And now Mason's gone, and the Revᵈ Cherrycoke, who came to town only to pay his Respects, has linger'd, thro' the first descent of cold, the first drawings-in to the Hearth-Side, the first Harvest-Season meals appearing upon the next-best Dishes.
* * * * * * * * * *
Line 24 Vulgarized:
But now Mason has died and Reverend Cherrycoke, who had only come to Philadelphia for the funeral, has stayed on with his sister's family, through the coming of winter, through the first seasonal re-igniting of the fireplace, through meals fresh from the new harvest served on good dishes (but not Christmas good dishes).
Subtext:
Mason's death was harder on Cherrycoke than he realized. He's lost momentum; he's been derailed. What about Mason's relationship to Cherrycoke could have caused this kind of sudden paralysis in the Reverend? Perhaps the culprit is not simply the loss of Mason (life is complicated, of course) and Cherrycoke has simply discovered the comfort of returning to family and home, to the ease of the knowable and the familiar. Life with Mason & Dixon was strange and exhausting, perhaps recklessly breathtaking at times. Cherrycoke's loss of Mason has now given him time to take a second, glance around, catch his breath, and rest. It's given him time to look back and remember the past fondly. The stories he now tells are full of the same kind of nostalgia kindled by his return to his family's home and hearth and meals.
In other words, returning home and to family has the same lure as reminiscing about fond memories because a return home is actually just a longing for the earlier memories of that home. Cherrycoke has literally trapped himself in nostalgia, in his sentimental longing for the past.
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