How Deacon Tubman and Parson Whitney Kept New Year's And Other Stories — A Reader’s Guide

Sledding, Snow, and Clerical Rivalry

The deacon and the parson, despite their churchly titles, are not confined to pews. The story quickly moves outdoors, where the two men engage in a spirited sled race. The parson proves surprisingly adept at steering, and "it was found that the parson could steer a sled" becomes a minor revelation. Murray dwells on the physical details of the ride: the horse "Old Jack" is described as "a horse of a great deal of character," and the deacon urges him on with cries of "Go it, old boy!" The race is not merely a lark; it subtly underscores a contrast between the deacon's impulsive energy and the parson's composed skill. The setting—a snowy New England landscape—is rendered with specific touches like frosty window panes and the "colorless morning" creeping into sight. The humor is broad but affectionate, and the characters never become caricatures.

Music, Motion, and the Trapper's Jig

In "The Ball," the focus shifts to a festive gathering where a young fiddler, called simply "the Lad," unleashes a torrent of notes that "thrilled through the body and tingled along the nerves like successive electric shocks." The scene is a whirlwind of sound and motion: the music "jetted and effervesced its melody," the floor shakes, and an old Trapper—white-haired but spry—leads a jig with such abandon that he "forced the music by half a beat." Murray's description is kinetic and almost synesthetic, as the violin seems to "burst in musical explosions." The Trapper's exclamation—"Lord, who'd a thought that the blood in the veins of a man whose head is whitenin' could be sot leapin' as mine is doin' at this minit by the scrapin' of a fiddle!"—captures the story's theme of vitality persisting into age. The music stops "with a snap," leaving the room in applause.

Loyalty and Mystery in the Shorter Pieces

The collection's remaining stories, "The Old Beggar's Dog" and "Who Was He?," introduce darker or more enigmatic elements. In the former, a beggar and his dog are "constant companions," and the dog is shown learning a new trick—a detail that hints at the bond between the pair. When an officer harasses the beggar, the crowd "hooted the officer roundly," suggesting a communal defense of the outcast. "Who Was He?" opens with John Norton watching an approaching fire, then shifts to a river scene where a deer springs from the bank and a mysterious figure appears. The four characters who sit "in silence by the fire" at the story's end leave the stranger's identity unresolved. Murray thus moves from comic realism to folkloric ambiguity, using the same plainspoken narrative voice throughout.

Readers will find that Murray's strength lies in his ear for dialogue and his ability to render physical action—whether a sled race, a jig, or a dog's trick—with precise, energetic prose. The stories are best approached as period entertainments, rich in local color and unpretentious humor. Pay attention to the recurring motif of motion: characters are always bouncing, racing, dancing, or chasing, and the language itself keeps pace.

Murray’s sledding deacons and strange strangers always left me with the ache of warm firelight against cold window glass. That same quiet hush hangs over Around the Yule Log — A Closer Reading, like hearing the same hymn hummed in a different key. I keep both on the shelf, old friends for snowy evenings.