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"The Hiltons’ Holiday" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a charming short story that captures the essence of family dynamics and the joys of rural life. Set against the backdrop of a small New England town, the narrative follows the Hilton family as they embark on a holiday adventure. Through rich characterizations and vivid descriptions, Jewett explores themes of tradition, community, and the simple pleasures found in nature and familial connections. The story reflects the author's signature style, combining warmth and humor while offering insights into the everyday lives of her characters.


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Submitted by davidb on February 12, 2025


								
he was delighted to see him so well and enjoying the fine weather. “Oh, yes,” said the old man, in a feeble, quavering voice, “I’m astonishin’ well for my age. I don’t complain, John, I don’t complain.” They talked long together of people whom they had known in the past, and Katy, being a little tired, was glad to rest, and sat still with her hands folded, looking about the front yard. There were some kinds of flowers that she never had seen before. “This is the one that looks like my mother,” her father said, and touched Katy’s shoulder to remind her to stand up and let herself be seen. “Judge Masterson saw the resemblance; we met him at his gate this morning.” “Yes, she certain does look like your mother, John,” said the old man, looking pleasantly at Katy, who found that she liked him better than at first. “She does, certain; the best of young folks is, they remind us of the old ones. ’Tis nateral to cling to life, folks say, but for me, I git impatient at times. Most everybody’s gone now, an’ I want to be goin’. ’Tis somethin’ before me, an’ I want to have it over with. I want to be there ’long o’ the rest o’ the folks. I expect to last quite a while though; I may see ye couple o’ times more, John.” John Hilton responded cheerfully, and the children were urged to pick some flowers. The old man awed them with his impatience to be gone. There was such a townful of people about him, and he seemed as lonely as if he were the last survivor of a former world. Until that moment they had felt as if everything were just beginning. “Now I want to buy somethin’ pretty for your mother,” said Mr. Hilton, as they went soberly away down the street, the children keeping fast hold of his hands. “By now the old horse will have eat his dinner and had a good rest, so pretty soon we can jog along home. I’m goin’ to take you round by the academy, and the old North Meetinghouse where Dr. Barstow used to preach. Can’t you think o’ somethin’ that your mother ’d want?” he asked suddenly, confronted by a man’s difficulty of choice. “She was talkin’ about wantin’ a new pepper-box, one day; the top o’ the old one won’t stay on,” suggested Susan Ellen, with delightful readiness. “Can’t we have some candy, father?” “Yes, ma’am,” said John Hilton, smiling and swinging her hand to and fro as they walked. “I feel as if some would be good myself. What’s all this?” They were passing a photographer’s doorway with its enticing array of portraits. “I do declare!” he exclaimed excitedly, “I’m goin’ to have our pictures taken; ’twill please your mother more ’n a little.” This was, perhaps, the greatest triumph of the day, except the delightful meeting with the judge; they sat in a row, with the father in the middle, and there was no doubt as to the excellence of the likeness. The best hats had to be taken off because they cast a shadow, but they were not missed, as their owners had feared. Both Susan Ellen and Katy looked their brightest and best; their eager young faces would forever shine there; the joy of the holiday was mirrored in the little picture. They did not know why their father was so pleased with it; they would not know until age had dowered them with the riches of association and remembrance. Just at nightfall the Hiltons reached home again, tired out and happy. Katy had climbed over into the front seat beside her father, because that was always her place when they went to church on Sundays. It was a cool evening, there was a fresh sea wind that brought a light mist with it, and the sky was fast growing cloudy. Somehow the children looked different; it seemed to their mother as if they had grown older and taller since they went away in the morning, and as if they belonged to the town now as much as to the country. The greatness of their day’s experience had left her far behind; the day had been silent and lonely without them, and she had had their supper ready, and been watching anxiously, ever since five o’clock. As for the children themselves they had little to say at first—they had eaten their luncheon early on the way to Topham. Susan Ellen was childishly cross, but Katy was pathetic and wan. They could hardly wait to show the picture, and their mother was as much pleased as everybody had expected. “There, what did make you wear your shawls?” she exclaimed a moment afterward, reproachfully. “You ain’t been an’ wore ’em all day long? I wanted folks to see how pretty your new dresses was, if I did make ’em. Well, well! I wish more ’n ever now I’d gone an’ seen to ye!” “An’ here’s the pepper-box!” said Katy, in a pleased, unconscious tone. “That really is what I call beautiful,” said Mrs. Hilton, after a long and doubtful look. “Our other one was only tin. I never did look so high as a chiny one with flowers, but I can get us another any time for every day. That’s a proper hat, as good as you could have got, John. Where’s your new hoe?” she asked as he came toward her from the barn, smiling with satisfaction. “I declare to Moses if I didn’t forget all about it,” meekly acknowledged the leader of the great excursion. “That an’ my yellow turnip seed, too; they went clean out o’ my head, there was so many other things to think of. But ’tain’t no sort o’ matter; I can get a hoe just as well to Ira Speed’s.” His wife could not help laughing. “You an’ the little girls have had a great time. They was full o’ wonder to me about everything, and I expect they’ll talk about it for a week. I guess we was right about havin’ ’em see somethin’ more o’ the world.” “Yes,” answered John Hilton, with humility, “yes, we did have a beautiful day. I didn’t expect so much. They looked as nice as anybody, and appeared so modest an’ pretty. The little girls will remember it perhaps by an’ by. I guess they won’t never forget this day they had ’long o’ father.” It was evening again, the frogs were piping in the lower meadows, and in the woods, higher up the great hill, a little owl began to hoot. The sea air, salt and heavy, was blowing in over the country at the end of the hot bright day. A lamp was lighted in the house, the happy children were talking together, and supper was waiting. The father and mother lingered for a moment outside and looked down over the shadowy fields; then they went in, without speaking. The great day was over, and they shut the door.
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Sarah Orne Jewett

Sarah Orne Jewett (1849-1909) was an American novelist and short story writer renowned for her depictions of rural life in New England. Her most notable work, "The Country of the Pointed Firs," exemplifies her keen observation of local culture and her ability to evoke the natural landscape. Jewett's writing often explores themes of community, gender, and the complexities of life in small towns, and she is celebrated for her richly drawn characters and lyrical prose. As a prominent figure in the regionalist literary movement, she influenced later writers and remains an important voice in American literature. more…

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    "The Hiltons’ Holiday Books." Literature.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2025. Web. 23 Feb. 2025. <https://www.literature.com/book/the_hiltons%E2%80%99_holiday_5009>.

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