Danbury Times

The Old and New Years.
The past, and, thus far, present weeks, have been marked by greetings and festivities, as joyous and hearty as those usually connected with an exchange of tokens of remembrance, no less time-honored than agreeable. If an occasional "thought of care or woe" intruded, to mingle its bitter with the sweet, the good angel, Hope, and the warm hand of Benevolence, have driven the unasked visitor away
We have been among the children—mixed up with them—(Ugh! what a barren world of drifts and icicles ours would be without them,) —and the inspiration of their bright eyes and lighter hearts still adheres, (If school teachers are not more genial than other peoples they will have a load of unimproved blessings to answer for.)
On Thursday night the Sunday School connected with the Baptist Church received their immediate friends and invited guests in their lecture room, which was profusely and tastefully decorated for the occasion. The original programme for awarding prizes to scholars who had in various ways best improved their opportunities the past year—the articles presented advertising a well selected Committee—was improved upon by the donees becoming in turn the donors. Among their victims the Superintendent of the School came in for a silver cup, and a little three or four year old lugged a box up to the platform bearing a name that no one in the room could or would answer to. From the repeated calls without a response, the suspense was verging into embarrassment, when the pastor of the Church came forward and took the box, remarking that it probably belonged to the "infant class!" (The impression was left that the box was on its way to its rightful owner.) The "rations" came last, in the shape of immense cornucopias,—such as would make even our boys of the Seventeenth spread their eyes, Amid the general hilarity and good cheer we took leave, thinking what blessed institutions Christmas and children were.
Services were held on the St. James and Universalist Churches, which were handsomely decorated.
On Monday evening the festival of the Sunday School of the St. James Church was held at the Rooms of the Young Mens Christian Association. The next prominent feature to the raft of children present was the handsome women. There was really an unusual concentration of the material, or our good Star kept us in the midst of the best of it. We studiously avoid personalities in these notes or would mention names. The Christmas Tree was a gem of Nature's productions, and ornamented in the highest style of art—at least the children thought so, with an especial leaning towards the fruit. The gathering of the fruit was followed by an onslaught on a Christmas Bag by a blind-folded boy. After several desperate passes through the air, a lucky hit brought down the treasured sweets, and down with it went the congregation of juveniles, floundering on the floor like a school of pollywogs,—should have gone in, too; had we not been on our dignity. This was rare sport. Our attention was next directed towards huge fortifications of iced cake, flanked on either side by "sharp-shooters." Charged across the Rappahannock under a warm fire, stormed the breast works, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the defenses tumbling down. (We await the report of the doctor—who was there—for a list of the injured.)—The Association Rooms has been the scene of a good many pleasant gatherings—and this was one of them.
A correspondent thus describes the decorations of St. James' Church:
St. James' Church.
A brief description of the Christmas decorations of this Church, as presented on the evening of Thursday last, may not be uninteresting to the readers of the Times. There are indeed few, if any, among the usages of the season more commendable, than that of ornamenting with evergreens our places of worship; a custom which bids fair to become universal at no distant date. To the ladies of the parish no small degree of credit would appear to be due for the chasteness of design and design and neatness of execution manifested throughout.
On entering the Church, the eye is first attracted by two elegantly constructed chandeliers, from the verdant branches of which beam forth, in pleasing contrast, the light of many candles. Huge festoons of graceful proportion span the sides of the building;—while from the galleries, and amid a profusion of wreaths, long rows of luminaries extend on either side. The windows too, are neatly decorated with garlands, and from the top of the Chancel, between a double row of festoons, falls a beautiful basket containing flowers. The pulpit, lectern, and altar would also seem to have received a fair proportion of tasty embellishments.
Passing over several less prominent objects, we come to the prettiest arrangement of all, the font, which must be seen to be duly appreciated. From a groundwork of evergreens there rises a large and symmetrical vase full of choicest everlastings, and surmounting this is an unique and gracefully festooned arch. Last in order though not in merit—the arcade above the organ. This neat and somewhat original contrivance is formed of canvas stretched upon a frame, and edged with rows of box, inside of which is painted the opening sentence of the Te Deum.
Bidding adieu to the old year—gone with its varied and thrilling events to be entered on the record-book of Eternity, we greet the in-coming year, not as deeply freighted with hope to us as a nation as we could wish,—with as cheerful a smile as possible. May it be the era of the opening of a brighter day, while we strive to make amends for the sins and follies of the past.