{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_70702/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_70702","id":"gutenberg_70702","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70702","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Christmas -- Juvenile literature","Christmas stories"],"text":"Transcriber\u2019s Note\n  Italic text displayed as: _italic_\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n  NEW YORK \u00b7 BOSTON \u00b7 CHICAGO\n  SAN FRANCISCO\n\n  MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED\n  LONDON \u00b7 BOMBAY \u00b7 CALCUTTA\n  MELBOURNE\n\n  THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.\n  TORONTO\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF CHRISTMAS\n\n[Illustration: woman in bed]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  THE\n  CHILDREN\u2019S BOOK\n  OF CHRISTMAS\n\n  Compiled by\n  J. C. DIER\n\n  The MACMILLAN COMPANY\n\n  1911\n\n  All rights reserved\n]\n\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1911,\n  BY\n  THE MACMILLAN\n  COMPANY\n\n  Set up and electrotyped.\n  Published, October, 1911.\n\n\n  Norwood Press\n  J. S. Cushing Co.\u2014Berwick & Smith Co.\n  Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n_IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS?_\n\n[_This question addressed to_ The Sun, _New York, received this\nreply_.]\n\n\n_We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently\nthe communication below, expressing at the same time our great\ngratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends\nof_ The Sun:\u2014\n\n      _Dear Editor: I am 8 years old._\n    _Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.\n    Papa says, \u201cIf you see it in_ The Sun _it\u2019s so.\u201d\n    Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?_\n                                  _VIRGINIA O\u2019HANLON._\n\n\n_Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been afflicted by\nthe scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they\nsee. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by\ntheir little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men\u2019s or\nchildren\u2019s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere\ninsect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless\nworld about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping\nthe whole of truth and knowledge._\n\n_Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as\nlove and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound\nand give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary\nwould be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as\ndreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike\nfaith then, no poetry, no romance, to make tolerable this existence.\nWe should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal\nlight with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished._\n\n_Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in\nfairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the\nchimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did\nnot see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees\nSanta Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The\nmost real things in the world are those that neither children nor men\ncan see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not,\nbut that\u2019s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or\nimagine all the wonders that are unseen and unseeable in the world._\n\n_You may tear apart the baby\u2019s rattle and see what makes the noise\ninside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the\nstrongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest\nmen that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry,\nlove, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the\nsupernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in\nall this world there is nothing else real and abiding._\n\n_No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A\nthousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years\nfrom now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood._\n\n    _FRANK P. CHURCH._\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\n  IS THERE A SANTA CLAUS?                                            v\n\n  An Editorial by the late Frank P. Church in the New York _Sun_.\n\n  CHRISTMAS GREENS                                                   1\n\n  Adapted from _Some Curiosities of Popular Customs_ by William\n  S. Walsh.\n\n  I SAW THREE SHIPS COME SAILING IN                                  2\n\n  A Kentish Version of an old English Christmas Carol.\n\n  THE ANGELS AND THE SHEPHERDS                                       4\n\n  The Gospel Story as in the Children\u2019s Series of the Modern\n  Reader\u2019s Bible, edited by R. G. Moulton.\n\n  WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED                                            6\n\n  The famous Christmas hymn written in about 1700 and attributed\n  to Nahum Tate.\n\n  THE WISE MEN FROM THE EAST                                         7\n\n  The Gospel Story as in the Children\u2019s Series of the Modern\n  Reader\u2019s Bible, edited by R. G. Moulton.\n\n  STROOIAVOND IN HOLLAND                                             9\n\n  Adapted from _Holland_ by Beatrix Jungman in the Peeps at Many\n  Lands Series, with one paragraph simplified from _Servia and the\n  Servians_ by Chedo Mijatovich.\n\n  HOW ST. NICHOLAS CAME TO VOLENDAM                                 12\n\n  From the volume on _Holland_ by Beatrix Jungman in the Peeps at\n  Many Lands Series.\n\n  KEEPING CHRISTMAS IN THE OLD WAY                                  16\n\n  From an entertaining old pamphlet published in 1740 entitled\n  \u201cRound about Our Coal Fire, or Christmas Entertainments,\u201d quoted\n  in _Christmas: Its Origin and Associations_ by W. F. Dawson.\n\n  AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING                                           20\n\n  An Old English Christmas Carol known as The Cherry-tree Carol. In\n  many versions another stanza said to be of later origin is added.\n\n  THE \u201cJULE-NISSEN\u201d AND BLOWING IN THE YULE                         21\n\n  From _The Old Town_ by Jacob A. Riis, copyright by The\n  Macmillan Company, 1909.\n\n  CHRISTMAS EVE IN MERRY ENGLAND                                    23\n\n  From _Marmion_ by Sir Walter Scott.\n\n  WHEN CHRISTMAS WAS NOT MERRY                                      25\n\n  Compiled from _Christmas: Its Origin and Associations_ by W. F.\n  Dawson, and from general sources.\n\n  GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS                                          28\n\n  From _Old Christmas at Bracebridge Hall_ by Washington Irving.\n\n  GOD REST YOU MERRY, GENTLEMEN                                     31\n\n  An Old English Carol.\n\n  THE DATE OF RUSSIA\u2019S CHRISTMASTIDE                                33\n\n  Compiled from general sources, and in part from _Russia_ by L.\n  Edna Walter in the Peeps at Many Lands Series.\n\n  ST. BARBARA\u2019S GRAIN                                               37\n\n  Adapted from an unsigned article in _Macmillan\u2019s Magazine_ and\n  from creole folk-lore.\n\n  BEFORE THE PALING OF THE STARS                                    38\n\n  By Christina Rossetti.\n\n  A MIDNIGHT MASS IN FRANCE                                         39\n\n  Adapted from an article in _Macmillan\u2019s Magazine_ with added\n  details drawn from an article in _The Century_ by Mme. Th. Bentzon.\n\n  THE CHRISTCHILD AND THE PINE TREE                                 42\n\n  A weaving together of bits of folk-lore drawn chiefly from _The\n  Child and Childhood in Folk-thought_ by Alexander F. Chamberlain.\n\n  A BIRTHDAY GIFT                                                   44\n\n  Part of a hymn for children by Christina Rossetti.\n\n  THE CHRISTMAS FIRE IN SERVIA                                      45\n\n  Adapted from _Servia and the Servians_ by Chedo Mijatovich.\n\n  THE DAY OF THE LITTLE GOD                                         47\n\n  From _Servia and the Servians_ by Chedo Mijatovich.\n\n  NATURE FOLK-LORE OF CHRISTMASTIDE                                 50\n\n  Compiled from several sources, including _The Old Town_ by Jacob\n  A. Riis and magazine articles.\n\n  GOOD KING WENCESLAS                                               53\n\n  An Old English Carol in the version by John Mason Neale.\n\n  A MEXICAN \u201cMYSTERY\u201d SEEN BY BAYARD TAYLOR                         54\n\n  From _Eldorado_ by Bayard Taylor.\n\n  BREAKING THE PI\u00d1ATE                                               57\n\n  Collated from _Mexico, the Wonderland of the South_ by W. E.\n  Carson, copyright by The Macmillan Company, 1909.\n\n  CHRISTMAS UPON A GREENLAND ICEBERG                                59\n\n  Collated from _Christmas: Its Origin and Associations_ by W. F.\n  Dawson, and _The Great White North_ by Helen S. Wright.\n\n  LUTHER\u2019S CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR CHILDREN                             61\n\n  Translator unknown.\n\n  THE GOOD NIGHT IN SPAIN                                           63\n\n  Adapted from the account by Ferdinand Caballero, translated by\n  Katharine Lee Bates.\n\n  A CHRISTMAS TREE IN JAPAN                                         66\n\n  From _Letters from Japan_ by Mary Crawford Fraser, copyright by\n  The Macmillan Company, 1899.\n\n  FROM FAR AWAY                                                     72\n\n  A Christmas Carol by William Morris.\n\n  LORDINGS, LISTEN TO OUR LAY                                       73\n\n  A fragment of the earliest existing carol; sung in the thirteenth\n  century.\n\n  WHERE THE CHRISTMAS TOYS COME FROM                                74\n\n  Compiled from general sources, including _In Toyland_, an article\n  in _The Royal Magazine_, copyright by C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.\n\n  THE MAKING OF A CHRISTMAS DOLL                                    76\n\n  The material of this article also has been drawn from _The Royal\n  Magazine_ by permission of its publishers, C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.\n\n  IRINA\u2019S DAY ON THE ESTATES                                        79\n\n  Adapted from _Russia_ by L. Edna Walter in the Peeps at Many Lands\n  Series.\n\n  A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS                                         83\n\n  By Clement C. Moore.\n\n  THE CRATCHITS\u2019 CHRISTMAS DINNER                                   85\n\n  From _A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens.\n\n  AFTER THE CHRISTMAS DINNER                                        88\n\n  From _The Old Town_ by Jacob A. Riis, copyright by The\n  Macmillan Company, 1909.\n\n  HANG UP THE BABY\u2019S STOCKING                                       89\n\n  Author unknown.\n\n  A GERMAN CHRISTMAS                                                90\n\n  Collated from _Home Life in Germany_ by Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick,\n  _Music Study in Germany_ by Amy Fay, and _Elizabeth and Her\n  German Garden_.\n\n  CROWDED OUT                                                       95\n\n  By Rosalie M. Jonas.\n\n  AN ENGLISH \u201cADORATION\u201d                                            96\n\n  Adapted from _The Children\u2019s Book of Art_ by Miss A. E. Conway\n  and Sir Martin Conway.\n\n  THE CHILDREN\u2019S OWN SAINT                                          99\n\n  Based on legends chiefly drawn from _Curiosities of Popular\n  Customs_ by W. S. Walsh.\n\n  THE BEFANA FAIR IN ROME                                          102\n\n  From _Ave Roma Immortalis_ by F. Marion Crawford, copyright by\n  The Macmillan Company, 1898.\n\n  THE GOLDEN CAROL                                                 104\n\n  An Old English Epiphany Carol.\n\n  BABOUSCKA                                                        105\n\n  By Carolyn S. Bailey. Copyright by the Milton Bradley Company.\n  Reprinted by permission from _For the Children\u2019s Hour_.\n\n  THE THREE KINGS                                                  107\n\n  Adapted by permission from _The Memoirs of Mistral_, copyright by\n  the Baker and Taylor Company, 1907.\n\n  CHRISTMAS PEACE                                                  110\n\n  From _The Little City of Hope_ by F. Marion Crawford, copyright by\n  The Macmillan Company, 1907.\n\n\n\n\nPLATES IN COLORS\n\n\n  The Annunciation        _Dante Gabriel Rossetti_      _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\n  The Nativity                  _Botticelli_                _Facing_ 4\n\n  Shepherds and Shepherd Boy                                        20\n\n  In a Christmas Market on the Neva                                 36\n\n  The Yule Sheaf                                                    52\n\n  Nuremberg Where the Toys are Made                                 72\n\n  Roumanian Boys in a Religious Procession                          80\n\n  An English \u201cAdoration\u201d                                            96\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK AND WHITE\n\n  The Shepherds Adoring         _Ghirlandajo_                        8\n\n  The Adoration of the Magi     _Bernadino_                         12\n\n  The Adoration of the King     _Veronese_                          16\n\n  Holy Night                    _C. M\u00fcller_                         24\n\n  A Christmas Gift on the Way to Christmas Dinner                   28\n\n  The Holy Night                _Correggio_                         32\n\n  The Bells                     _Blashfield_                        40\n\n  The Triumph of the Innocents  _Hunt_                              44\n\n  Bethlehem                     _Hofmann_                           48\n\n  The Christmas Tree Market in New York                             56\n\n  Heads of the Christ Child from Raphael\u2019s Paintings                60\n\n  The Holy Family with the Shepherds        _Titian_                64\n\n  Making Glass and Tinsel Ornaments for Christmas Trees             68\n\n  Doll-making                                                       76\n\n  Wig-making                                                        78\n\n  A Christmas Tree at the Immigration Station, New York             84\n\n  \u201cWe joined hands and danced around the tree\u201d                      88\n\n  Dressing Dolls in Germany for American Christmas Trees            92\n\n  An American Christmas Tree                                       100\n\n  The Adoration of the Magi            _Memling_                   104\n\n  The Adoration of the Shepherds       _Bouguereau_                108\n\n\nCOMPILER\u2019S NOTE\n\nWherever it has been possible, the material used has been quoted in\nthe exact words of the writer. In some cases omissions have been made\nof sentences which would be unintelligible because that part of the\noriginal book to which they refer is not herein included. In a very\nfew cases where the books quoted were not written for children, the\nselections have been condensed and the language simplified. It is\nhoped that injustice has been done to none.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF CHRISTMAS\n\n\n\n\nChristmas Greens\n\n\nIt is hard for you who have never felt the lack of heat and light to\nknow what the long dark winter must have meant to the men of long ago\nwho first kept the midwinter feast. Many of them really believed that\nas the days grew shorter and shorter, and the nights long and cold,\nthere was danger that the sun might go out altogether and the whole\nworld die in the darkness. When, late in December, the days began to\nlengthen, and they saw that the sun was coming back to bring again\nthe flowers and the summer heat, they fancied that a new sun had been\nborn. So then for gladness they kept a feast which naturally in later\nyears was changed into a festival in honor of the birth of Christ,\n\u201cthe sun of righteousness.\u201d\n\nWith the feast itself some other of their old customs have been\nhanded down to us, and among them is that of bringing into the house\nin midwinter the boughs of Christmas green. For these far-away folk\nbelieved that wood-spirits\u2014you know them as brownies, fairies, and\nelves\u2014were living in the forests outside, and were so sorry to think\nof them shivering under the snow-laden trees and in damp icy caves,\nthat they used to place in the corners of their houses great branches\nof hemlock and balsam fir, that \u201cthe good little people\u201d might creep\ninto the sort of shelters they loved and be warm. And as the heat of\nthe fire brought out the sweet smell of the fir, it seemed to them\nlike a \u201cthank you\u201d from their friends of the summer woods. Thus they,\nfirst of all men, felt the wish to give which is the heart of the\nChristmas spirit. And soon they began to hang little gifts for their\nunseen guest upon the green boughs, and to make them bright with\nthe berries of holly and ash. After that it may be that some night\nhunter, crouching in the underbrush, looked up to the stars, and felt\nthat his tree was incomplete without twinkling lights. However that\nmay be, the custom of trimming the house with evergreens, holly, and\nlights at Christmas time is an old, old one.\n\n\n\n\nI saw Three Ships come sailing in\n\n\n    I saw three ships come sailing in,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    I saw three ships come sailing in,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    And what was in those ships all three,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day?\n    And what was in those ships all three,\n        On Christmas day in the morning?\n\n    The Virgin Mary and Christ were there,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    The Virgin Mary and Christ were there,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    Pray, whither sailed those ships all three,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day?\n    Pray, whither sailed those ships all three,\n        On Christmas day in the morning?\n\n    O they sailed into Bethlehem,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    O they sailed into Bethlehem,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    And all the bells on earth shall ring,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    And all the bells on earth shall ring,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    And all the souls on earth shall sing,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    And all the souls on earth shall sing,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n    Then let us all rejoice amain,\n        On Christmas day, on Christmas day;\n    Then let us all rejoice amain,\n        On Christmas day in the morning.\n\n\n\n\nThe Angels and the Shepherds\n\n\nNow in the days of Herod, King of Judea, the angel Gabriel was sent\nfrom God unto a city in Galilee named Nazareth, unto a virgin whose\nname was Mary, to whom he said: Hail, thou that art highly favored!\nthe Lord is with thee! blessed art thou among women! But she was\ngreatly troubled by his greeting and wondered what such words could\nmean. Fear not, Mary! for thou hast found favor with God, he said,\nand went on to tell her of the Son who should be hers, and whom she\nwas to call Jesus. He shall be great, she was told, and shall be\ncalled the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him\nthe throne of his father David; and he shall reign over the house of\nJacob forever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.\n\nNow it came to pass there went out a decree from C\u00e6sar Augustus, that\nall the world should be enrolled. And all went to enroll themselves,\nevery one to his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out\nof the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which\nis called Bethlehem, because he was of the house of the family of\nDavid; to enroll himself with Mary. And it came to pass, while they\nwere there she brought forth her firstborn son; and she wrapped him\nin swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no\nroom for them in the inn.\n\n[Illustration: manger]\n\nAnd there were shepherds in the same country abiding in the field,\nand keeping watch by night over their flock. And an angel of the\nLord stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about\nthem: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Be\nnot afraid; for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy which\nshall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the\ncity of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this is the\nsign unto you; ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, and\nlying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude\nof the heavenly host praising God, and saying:\n\n    Glory to God in the highest,\n    And on earth peace\n    Among men in whom he is well pleased.\n\nAnd it came to pass, when the angels went away from them into heaven,\nthe shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem,\nand see this thing that is come to pass, which the Lord hath made\nknown unto us. And they came with haste, and found both Mary and\nJoseph, and the babe lying in the manger. And when they saw it they\nmade known concerning the saying which was spoken to them about\nthis child. And all that heard it wondered at the things which were\nspoken unto them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these sayings,\npondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying\nand praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen,\neven as it was spoken unto them.\n\nAnd when eight days were fulfilled his name was called\n\n    JESUS.\n\n\n\n\nWhile Shepherds Watched\n\n\n    While shepherds watch\u2019d their flocks by night,\n        All seated on the ground,\n    The Angel of the Lord came down,\n        And glory shone around.\n\n    \u201cFear not,\u201d said he (for mighty dread\n        Had seized their troubled mind);\n    \u201cGlad tidings of great joy I bring\n        To you and all mankind.\n\n    \u201cTo you in David\u2019s town this day\n        Is born of David\u2019s line\n    The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord;\n        And this shall be the sign:\n\n    \u201cThe heavenly Babe you there shall find\n        To human view display\u2019d,\n    All meanly wrapt in swathing-bands;\n        And in a manger laid.\u201d\n\n    Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith\n        Appear\u2019d a shining throng\n    Of angels praising God, and thus\n        Address\u2019d their joyful song:\n\n    \u201cAll glory be to God on high,\n        And to the earth be peace;\n    Good-will henceforth from heaven to men\n        Begin, and never cease!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nThe Wise Men from the East\n\n\nNow when Jesus was born, behold, Wise men from the east came to\nJerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for\nwe saw his star in the east, and are come to worship him. And when\nHerod the king heard it, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with\nhim. And gathering together all the chief priests and scribes of the\npeople, he inquired of them where the Christ should be born. And\nthey said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judea: for thus it is written\nby the prophet: _And thou Bethlehem, land of Judah, art in no wise\nleast among the princes of Judah: for out of thee shall come forth a\ngovernor, which shall be shepherd of my people Israel._ Then Herod\nprivily called the Wise men, and learned of them carefully what time\nthe star appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and\nsearch out carefully concerning the young child; and when ye have\nfound him, bring me word that I also may come and worship him. And\nthey, having heard the king, went their way; and lo, the star, which\nthey saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over\nwhere the young child was. And when they saw the star, they rejoiced\nwith exceeding great joy. And they came into the house and saw the\nyoung child with Mary his mother; and they fell down and worshipped\nhim; and opening their treasures they offered unto him gifts, gold\nand frankincense and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that\nthey should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country\nanother way.\n\nNow when they were departed, behold an angel of the Lord appeareth\nto Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise and take the young child and his\nmother and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I tell thee: for\nHerod will seek the young child to destroy him. And he arose and took\nthe young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt; and\nwas there until the death of Herod. Then Herod, when he saw that he\nwas mocked of the Wise men was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and\nslew all the male children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the\nborders thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time\nwhich he had carefully learned of the Wise men. Then was fulfilled\nthat which was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying: _A voice was\nheard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her\nchildren; and she would not be comforted, because they are not._\n\nBut when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a\ndream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, Arise and take the young child and\nhis mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead that\nsought the young child\u2019s life. And he arose and took the young child\nand his mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard\nthat Archelaus was reigning over Judea in the room of his father\nHerod, he was afraid to go thither; and being warned of God in a\ndream, he withdrew into the parts of Galilee, and came and dwelt in a\ncity called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by\nthe prophets, that he should be called a Nazarene.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Girlandajo_\n\nTHE SHEPHERDS ADORING]\n\n\n\n\nStrooiavond in Holland\n\n\nA Dutch boy does not have to wait until December 25 for the\ngreat gift-day of the year. He is one of those who look for the\ngift-bringing saint on the eve of his own day which falls on December\n6. For days beforehand the shops have been filled with toys and gaily\ntrimmed, and on the evening of December 5 St. Nicholas is supposed\nby the little ones to make choice of the special treasure intended\nfor little Dutch Jan or Martje. Indeed, it is one of the children\u2019s\ntreats to go out on that night to see the shops; and in the doorway\nof many of them stands a gorgeously clad likeness of the saint.\n\nAt home the children in turn are visited by the saint; in he walks\ncarrying a big sackful of candies, oranges, apples, and so forth,\nwhich he scatters on the floor. Indeed, the Eve of St. Nicholas is\ncalled in Holland _Strooiavond_, which means \u201cstrewing evening.\u201d This\nidea of a strewing evening crops up curiously often as one reads of\nthe various customs connected with the December holidays the world\nover. In southern France the Proven\u00e7al women strew wheat on the\nsurface of shallow dishes of water, planting St. Barbara\u2019s grain; in\nMexico the children try to break with a long stick a bag or jug swung\nhigh above their heads, scattering the contents at last all over the\nfloor.\n\nIn some parts of Servia there is found among the Christmas customs\none which is probably the remnant of an early rite from which all of\nthese \u201cstrewing evenings\u201d come. In that country, after the Christmas\nfire has been started with due ceremonies, the mother of the family\nbrings in a bundle of straw which has been made ready early in the\nday. All the young children arrange themselves behind her in a row.\nShe then starts walking slowly about the hall, and all the adjoining\nrooms, throwing on the floor handfuls of straw, and at the same time\nimitating the hens sounds, \u201cKock ... kock ... kock;\u201d while all the\nchildren, representing the hen\u2019s little chickens, merrily follow\nshouting, \u201cPeeyoo! ... peeyoo! ... peeyoo!\u201d The floor well strewn\nwith straw, and the little folk in breathless heaps upon it, the\noldest man of the family throws a few walnuts in every corner of\nthe hall. After this a large pot, or a small wooden box, is filled\nwith wheat and placed a little higher than a man\u2019s head in the east\ncorner of the hall. In the middle of the wheat is fixed a tall candle\nof yellow wax. The father of the family then reverently lights the\ncandle, and, folding his arms on his breast, he prays, while all who\nare present stand silently behind him, asking God to bless the family\nwith health and happiness, to bless the fields with good harvests,\nthe beehives with plenty of honey, the sheep with many lambs, the\ncows with rich creamy milk, and so on. When he finishes his prayer,\nhe bows deeply before the burning candle, and all those standing\nbehind him do the same. He then turns toward them and says, \u201cMay\nGod hear our prayer, and may He grant us all health!\u201d to which they\nanswer, \u201cGod grant it. Amen!\u201d\n\nIn Holland the very little children believe that while they are busy\ngathering up the saint\u2019s goodies, or else in the night, he hides\naway the presents meant for them all over the house. Before they go\nto bed they place their largest shoes\u2014wooden sabots, such as you\nsee in almost every picture of Dutch children\u2014in the chimney place,\nwhere in the morning they find them stuffed with fruit, nuts, and\nsweets. There are no lie-a-beds in Holland on St. Nicholas\u2019 morning.\nThere is a glorious game of \u201cseek-and-find\u201d going on in every house\nwhere there are children. Piet takes down one of the shining copper\nsaucepans hanging beside the chimney place and finds curled up\ninside it the many-petticoated doll which of course he hands over to\na delighted little sister, who has somewhere discovered his box of\ngaily painted leaden soldiers. There are plenty of hiding holes in\nan old Dutch house; thick oak beams support the walls and roofs and\nmake wide ledges upon which Rupert may find a packet containing two\nflat silver buttons which once belonged to his great-grandfather.\nHe is the oldest son, beginning to be particular about his striped\nwaistcoats and the tight fit of his blue or red coat. He will be\nimmensely proud to wear, as every other man in the old village does,\ntwo silver buttons at the waist of his baggy trousers. In the parts\nof Holland where the new fashions have not spoiled the old, silver\nbuttons are to the men what such coral necklaces as Rupert\u2019s sister\nwears are to the women. These buttons are always as big as the men\ncan afford, and sometimes are like saucers; the little boys, even the\ntiniest ones, are dressed exactly after the pattern of their fathers,\nbut their two flat buttons are smaller, about as large as fifty-cent\npieces, and stamped with some design, the favorite one being a ship.\n\nWhen all the gifts have been hunted out (down to a pair of skates\nwith long curved tips for a boy so little that you would think St.\nNicholas must have made a mistake if you did not know that Dutch\nchildren learn to skate almost as early as you learn to walk),\nthe children are ready for the season\u2019s other special treat, the\ngingerbread cakes. Delicately spiced gingerbread is made into many\nfantastic shapes, but every one, young or old, receives a gingerbread\ndoll. Figures of men are given to the women folk, and of women in\nruffles and straight skirts to the men. It is interesting to see\nhow exactly like these gingerbread figures are in outline to those\nin early Dutch paintings. The models from which they are patterned\nfrequently date from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.\n\n\n\n\nHow St. Nicholas Came to Volendam\n\n\nOne winter I was staying with my husband at the little fishing\nvillage of Volendam, and we wished that the little Volendamers, who\nare all very poor, should for once have a splendid St. Nicholas. A\nFrench artist, who was there at the same time, was of our opinion,\nand we were equally supported by our host Spaander and his wife and\ntheir family of blooming daughters. In the wooden hotel there is\na \u201ccoffee-room,\u201d long and low, of really vast proportions. In the\nsummer-time half of it forms the drawing-room. At the farther end\nof this apartment is a small stage, with wings. On this occasion\n(thanks to Spaander) the whole of it was covered in spotless white,\ntables were erected, and upon their surface were arranged about\na thousand toys and as many oranges and cakes. A white throne was\nplaced for St. Nicholas, whose part was taken by the Frenchman. He\nwore a long white woollen robe falling over a purple silk underdress,\na cape of costly old yellow brocade, and a gorgeous jewelled mitre,\nand he was made venerable by long white hair and beard. The dress\nof the black slave, whose part was taken by my husband, was equally\ncorrect and effective\u2014a long tight-fitting garment of green velvet,\nshowing a white robe underneath; an orange silk turban was wound\nround the black locks of a disguising wig and lit up his cork-black\nface. So much for the preparations, completed with considerable\ntrouble and a great deal of amusement.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Bernadino Luini_\n\nADORATION OF THE MAGI]\n\nMy husband painted a large poster, on which was set forth a notice\nto all the children of Volendam that at 6.30 a boat would land upon\nthe quay, bearing St. Nicholas and his faithful slave laden with\ngifts. One may easily imagine the joy and delight of these poor\nfisher-children, into whose uneventful lives what English children\ncall a treat hardly ever enters. They crowded about the announcement,\nand read that St. Nicholas would come laden with gifts. Who can say\nwhat wild, beautiful hopes filled their hearts? Before five o\u2019clock\nthe youngsters began to assemble. The quay was crowded with them, so\nwas the narrow road leading from the quay to the hotel. The parents\nalso were there, quite as excited and almost as credulous as their\nchildren. Indeed, all Volendam turned out to welcome the saint. Rain\nbegan to fall; but, although it soaked their poor clothes, it seemed\nto have no damping effect upon their spirits, all afire as they were\nwith expectation. Meanwhile, the saint and his slave rowed out to\ntheir boat. It was now almost dark, but in the faint light one could\nstill distinguish the fishing-boats which always crowd the harbor,\ntheir tall masts and sails dimly defined against the gray sky, and\ntheir narrow flags gently flapping in the rain. At one point there\nwas an opening between the boats, a glimmering waterway, where those\nwho were in the secret expected the boat to appear. The time passed\nslowly. It was seven o\u2019clock; and every one was very wet. Still, all\nVolendam was full of cheerful good humor.\n\nAt length a blaze of bright light far out on the water revealed\nthe saint\u2014a venerable figure standing in the boat, crosier in\nhand, evidently blessing the expectant crowd. In a few moments the\nboat reached the landing-place. With blare of trumpets, and by the\nlight of the torches, a procession was formed. How radiant were the\nfaces illumined by the flickering glow! Soon the warm, well-lighted\ncaf\u00e9 was reached. The saint sat on his throne, and his good slave\nrapidly distributed presents to the little ones, safely housed from\nthe inclement weather! Alas! they were very wet; but, as not one\nof the seven hundred coughed during the distribution, it may be\nconcluded that the young Volendamers do not easily take cold. Their\nsurroundings are so damp that they are almost amphibious.\n\nEvery face beamed with happiness. The genial St. Nicholas and his\nhard-worked slave; the Spaander family all helping vigorously; the\nthree fine, tall Volendamers, who, in their yellow scarves of office,\nkept order so gently and gaily; down to the very youngest child,\u2014all\nthe faces were sweet and patient, and aglow with the pleasure either\nof giving or receiving.\n\nThe crowd of children looked plump and healthy, and although many\ngarments were much patched, there were no rags; the poorest seemed to\nbe well cared for and comfortable.\n\nSeven hundred of them were made happy with toys and fruit; but there\nwas no scrambling or pushing, nothing but happy expectation, and then\nstill more happy satisfaction. All too soon it was over; the last\nchild clattered down the long room with its precious armful.\n\nAfterwards we heard from the schoolteachers and the children\u2019s\nparents that most of them believed firmly that it was the real saint\ndescended from heaven who had laid his hands on their heads in\nbenediction as they received their presents from the black slave.\n\n    \u2014BEATRIX JUNGMAN.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nKeeping Christmas in the Old Way\n\n\nThere is an amusing account of how Christmas used to be observed in\nEngland in the time of George II, in a little book called \u201cRound\nabout our Coal Fire, or Christmas Entertainments,\u201d published in 1740.\nThe author begins:\u2014\u2014\n\n\u201cFirst acknowledging the sacredness of the Holy Time of _Christmas_,\nI proceed to set forth the Rejoicings which are generally made at the\ngreat Festival.\n\n\u201cYou must understand, good People, that the manner of celebrating\nthis great Course of Holydays is vastly different now to what it\nwas in former days: There was once upon a time Hospitality in the\nland; an _English_ Gentleman at the opening of the great Day, had\nall his Tenants and Neighbours enter\u2019d his Hall by Day-break, the\nstrong Beer was broach\u2019d, and the Black Jacks went plentifully about\nwith Toast, Sugar, Nutmeg, and good Cheshire Cheese; the Rooms were\nembower\u2019d with Holly, Ivy, Cypress, Bays, Laurel, and Misselto, and\na bouncing _Christmas_ Log in the Chimney glowing like the cheeks of\na country Milk-maid; then was the pewter as bright as _Clarinda_,\nand every bit of Brass as polished as the most refined Gentleman;\nthe Servants were then running here and there, with merry Hearts\nand jolly Countenances; every one was busy welcoming of Guests, and\nlook\u2019d as smug as new licked Puppies; the Lasses as blithe and buxom\nas the maids in good Queen _Bess\u2019s_ Days, when they eat Sir-Loins of\nRoast Beef for Breakfast; _Peg_ would scuttle about to make Toast for\n_John_, while _Tom_ run _harum scarum_ to draw a Jug of Ale for\n_Margery_: Gaffer _Spriggins_ was bid thrice welcome by the \u2019Squire,\nand Gooddy _Goose_ did not fail of a smacking Buss from his Worship\nwhile his Son and Heir did the Honours of the House: in a word, the\nSpirit of Generosity ran thro\u2019 the whole House.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Paolo Veronese_\n\nTHE ADORATION OF THE KINGS]\n\n\u201cIn these Times all the Spits were sparkling, the _Hackin_ (a great\nsausage) must be boiled by Day-break, or else two young Men took the\nMaiden (the cook) by the Arms, and run her round the Market-place,\ntill she was ashamed of her Laziness. And what was worse than this,\nshe must not play with the Young Fellows that Day, but stand Neuter,\nlike a Girl doing penance in a Winding-sheet at a Church-door.\n\n\u201cBut now let us enquire a little farther, to arrive at the Sense of\nthe Thing; this great Festival was in former Times kept with so much\nFreedom and Openess of Heart, that every one in the Country where\na Gentleman resided, possessed at least a Day of Pleasure in the\n_Christmas_ Holydays; the Tables were all spread from the first to\nthe last, the Sir-loins of Beef, the Minc\u2019d Pies, the Plum-Porridge,\nthe Capons, Turkeys, Geese, and Plum-puddings, were all brought upon\nthe board; and all those who had sharp stomachs and sharp Knives eat\nheartily and were welcome, which gave rise to the Proverb\u2014\n\n  _Merry in the Hall, when Beards wag all._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cA merry Gentleman of my Acquaintance desires I will insert, that the\nold Folks in the Days of yore kept open House at _Christmas_ out of\nInterest; for then, says he, they receive the greatest part of their\nrent in Kind; such as Wheat, Barley or Malt, Oxen, Calves, Sheep,\nSwine, Turkeys, Capon, Geese, and such like; and they not having Room\nenough to preserve their Cattle or Poultry, nor Markets to sell off\nthe Overplus, they were obliged to use them in their own Houses; and\nby treating the People of the country, gained credit amongst them,\nand riveted the Minds and Goodwill of their Neighbours so firmly in\nthem that no one durst venture to oppose them. The \u2019Squire\u2019s Will was\ndone whatever came on it; for if he happened to ask a Neighbour what\nit was a Clock, they returned with a low Scrape, it was what your\nWorship pleases.\n\n\u201cThe Dancing and Singing of the Benchers in the great Inns of the\nCourt in _Christmas_, is in some sort founded upon Interest; for they\nhold, as I am informed, some Priviledge by Dancing about the Fire in\nthe middle of their Hall, and singing the Song of _Round about our\nCoal Fire_, &c.\n\n\u201cThis time of the year being cold and frosty, generally speaking, or\nwhen Jack-Frost commonly takes us by the Nose, the Diversions are\nwithin Doors, either in Exercise or by the Fire-side.\n\n\u201cCountry-Dancing is one of the chief Exercises....\n\n\u201cThen comes Mumming or Masquerading, when the \u2019Squire\u2019s Wardrobe\nis ransacked for Dresses of all Kinds, and the coal-hole searched\naround, or corks burnt to black the Faces of the Fair, or make\nDeputy-Mustaches, and every one in the Family except the \u2019Squire\nhimself must be transformed from what they were....\n\n\u201cOr else there is a match at _Blind-Man\u2019s-Buff_, and then it is\nlawful to set anything in the way for Folks to tumble over....\n\n\u201cAs for _Puss in the Corner_, that is a very harmless Sport, and one\nmay romp at it as much as one will....\n\n\u201cThe next game to this is _Questions and Commands_, when the\nCommander may oblige his Subject to answer any lawful Question, and\nmake the same obey him instantly, under the penalty of being smutted,\nor paying such Forfeit as may be laid on the Aggressor; but the\nForfeits being generally fixed at some certain Price, as a Shilling,\nHalf a Crown, &c., so every one knowing what to do if they should be\ntoo stubborn to submit, making themselves easy at discretion.\n\n\u201cAs for the game of _Hoop and Hide_, the Parties have the Liberty of\nhiding where they will, in any part of the House; and if they happen\nto be caught the Dispute ends in Kissing, &c.\n\n\u201cMost of the Diversions are Cards and Dice, but they are seldom set\non foot, unless a Lawyer is at hand, to breed some dispute for him to\ndecide, or at least to have some Party in.\n\n\u201cAnd now I come to another Entertainment frequently used, which is of\nthe Story-telling Order, _viz._ of Hobgoblins, Witches, Conjurors,\nGhosts, Fairies, and such like common Disturbers.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nAs Joseph was a-walking\n\n\n    As Joseph was a-walking,\n      He heard an angel sing,\n    \u201cThis shall be the birth-night\n      Of Christ our heavenly king.\n\n    \u201cHis birth-bed shall be neither\n      In housen nor in hall,\n    Nor in the place of paradise,\n      But in the oxen\u2019s stall.\n\n    \u201cHe neither shall be rock\u00e8d\n      In silver nor in gold,\n    But in the wooden manger\n      That lieth in the mould.\n\n    \u201cHe neither shall be washen\n      With white wine nor with red,\n    But with the fair spring water\n      That on you shall be shed.\n\n    \u201cHe neither shall be cloth\u00e8d\n      In purple nor in pall,\n    But in the fair white linen\n      That usen babies all.\u201d\n\n    As Joseph was a-walking,\n      Thus did the angels sing,\n    And Mary\u2019s son at midnight\n      Was born to be our King.\n\n[Illustration: two men]\n\n\n\n\nThe \u201cJule-Nissen\u201d and Blowing in the Yule\n\n\nI do not know how the forty years I have been away have dealt with\n\u201cJule-nissen,\u201d the Christmas elf of my childhood. He was pretty old\nthen, gray and bent, and there were signs that his time was nearly\nover. So it may be that they have laid him away. I shall find out\nwhen I go over there next time. When I was a boy we never sat down to\nour Christmas Eve dinner until a bowl of rice and milk had been taken\nup to the attic, where he lived with the marten and its young and\nkept an eye upon the house\u2014saw that everything ran smoothly. I never\nmet him myself, but I know the house-cat must have done so. No doubt\nthey were well acquainted; for when in the morning I went in for the\nbowl, there it was, quite dry and licked clean, and the cat purring\nin the corner. So, being there all night, he must have seen and\nlikely talked with him.... The Nisse was of the family, as you see,\nvery much of it, and certainly not to be classed with the cattle. Yet\nthey were his special concern; he kept them quiet and saw to it, when\nthe stableman forgot, that they were properly bedded and cleaned and\nfed. He was very well known to the hands about the farm, and they\nsaid that he looked just like a little old man, all in gray and with\na pointed red nightcap and long gray beard. He was always civilly\ntreated, as he surely deserved to be, but Christmas was his great\nholiday, when he became part of it, indeed, and was made much of. So,\nfor that matter, was everything that lived under the husbandman\u2019s\nroof, or within reach of it.\n\nBlowing in the Yule from the grim old tower that had stood eight\nhundred years against the blasts of the North Sea was one of the\ncustoms of the Old Town that abide, that I know. At sun-up, while\nyet the people were at breakfast, the town band climbed the many\nsteep ladders to the top of the tower, and up there, in fair weather\nor foul,\u2014and sometimes it blew great guns from the wintry sea,\u2014they\nplayed four old hymns, one to each corner of the compass, so that no\none was forgotten. They always began with Luther\u2019s sturdy challenge,\n\u201cA Mighty Fortress is Our God,\u201d while down below we listened\ndevoutly. There was something both weird and beautiful about those\nfar-away strains in the early morning light of the northern winter,\nsomething that was not of earth and that suggested to my child\u2019s\nimagination the angel\u2019s song on far Judean hills. Even now, after all\nthese years, the memory of it does that.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nChristmas Eve in Merry England\n\n\n    On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;\n    On Christmas Eve the mass was sung;\n    That only night in all the year,\n    Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.\n    The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;\n    The hall was dressed with holly green;\n    Forth to the wood did merry-men go,\n    To gather in the mistletoe.\n    Then open\u2019d wide the baron\u2019s hall\n    To vassal, tenant, serf, and all;\n    Power laid his rod of rule aside\n    And Ceremony doff\u2019d his pride.\n    The heir, with roses in his shoes,\n    That night might village partner choose;\n    The Lord, underogating, share\n    The vulgar game of \u201cpost and pair.\u201d\n    All hail\u2019d, with uncontroll\u2019d delight,\n    And general voice, the happy night,\n    That to the cottage, as the crown,\n    Brought tidings of salvation down.\n    The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,\n    Went roaring up the chimney wide;\n    The huge hall table\u2019s oaken face,\n    Scrubb\u2019d till it shone, the day to grace,\n    Bore then upon its massive board\n    No mark to part the squire and lord;\n    Then was brought in the lusty brawn,\n    By old blue-coated serving man;\n    Then the grim boar\u2019s head frown\u2019d on high,\n    Crested with bays and rosemary.\n    Well can the green-garb\u2019d ranger tell,\n    How, when, and where, the monster fell;\n    What dogs before his death he tore,\n    And all the baiting of the boar.\n    The wassel round, in good brown bowls,\n    Garnish\u2019d with ribbons, blithely trowls;\n    There the huge sirloin reek\u2019d; hard by\n    Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;\n    Nor fail\u2019d old Scotland to produce,\n    At such high tide her savory goose.\n    Then came the merry maskers in,\n    And carols roar\u2019d with blithesome din;\n    If unmelodious was the song,\n    It was a hearty note, and strong.\n    Who lists may in their mumming see\n    Traces of ancient mystery;\n    White shirts supplied the masquerade,\n    And smutted cheeks the visors made;\n    But, O! what maskers, richly dight,\n    Can boast of bosoms half so light!\n    England was merry England, when\n    Old Christmas brought his sports again.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _C. M\u00fcller_\n\nTHE HOLY NIGHT]\n\n\n\n\nWhen Christmas was not Merry\n\n\nChristmas was not always \u201cMerry Christmas\u201d in old England, for at one\ntime a strong effort was made to do away with the holiday entirely,\nafter some of the older ways of celebrating the season had become\ntoo boisterous for decent God-fearing folk. \u201cAt this season,\u201d says\nold Dr. Stubbs, \u201call the wild-heads of the parish flocking together\nchoose them a grand captain of Mischief, whom they crown with great\nsolemnity and the title of Lord of Misrule, who chooseth as many\nas he will to guard his noble person. Then every one of these men\nhe dresseth in liveries of green, of yellow, or other light color;\nand as though they were not gaudy enough, they bedeck themselves\nwith scarves, ribbons, laces, and jewels. This done they tie about\neither leg twenty or forty bells, with rich handkerchiefs on their\nheads, and sometimes laid across their shoulders and necks.... Then\nmarch this heathenish company to the church, their pipes piping,\ntheir drums thundering, their bells jingling, their handkerchiefs\nfluttering about their heads like madmen, their hobby horses,\ndragoons, and other monsters skirmishing among the throng. And\nin this sort they go to church though minister be at prayer or\npreaching,\u2014dancing and singing with such a confused noise that no man\ncan hear his own voice.\u201d \u201cMy Lord of Misrule\u2019s badges\u201d were given to\nthose who contributed money to pay the expense of this wild fooling;\nthose who refused were sometimes ducked in the cow pond, he adds. It\nis admitted that these abuses were quite as bad as he described,\nand that they were among the chief reasons why, in the seventeenth\ncentury, Cromwell tried to put down the great old holiday. His\nPuritan government ordered that the shops were to be opened, that\nmarkets were to be held, that all the work of the world should go\non as if there had never been carols sung or chimes set ringing \u201con\nChristmas Day in the morning.\u201d Instead of merry chimes, people heard\na criers harsh-sounding bell and his monotonous voice telling every\none \u201cNo Christmas! No Christmas!\u201d\n\nIn Scotland about the same time bakers were ordered to stop baking\nYule cakes, women were ordered to spin in open sight on Yule day,\nfarm laborers were told to yoke their ploughs. In both countries the\nmasks, or Christmas plays, which had been so popular in the houses of\nrich nobles, were absolutely forbidden; and if one were given, those\nwho merely looked on might be fined and the actors whipped.\n\nBut the people would not have their holiday taken away. Shops might\nopen, but few would come to buy. In Canterbury on one Christmas\nDay the townspeople asked the tradesmen to close their shops. The\ntradesmen feared the law\u2019s penalties, so refused. In the riot that\nfollowed the mob broke the shop windows, scattered the goods, and\nroughly handled the shopkeepers.\n\nIn London even Christmas decorations were forbidden, but when the\nLord Mayor sent a man to take down some holiday greens from one of\nthe houses, the saucy London \u2019prentice-boys swarmed out with sticks\nand stones and sent him flying. Then came on horseback, fat and\nlordly, even the great Lord Mayor himself, who thought his dignity\nwould overawe the unruly boys. But they only laughed and shouted\nuntil his horse took fright and ran away\u2014and perhaps he was glad to\nbe let off so easily. Even where the people dared not openly fight\nthe new laws, they did not obey them more than they could help.\nSpinning-wheels were idle because there was no flax, and ploughs were\n\u201cgone to be mended\u201d on Christmas Day in many an English village until\nafter the death of Cromwell, when the holiday came to its own again\nin \u201cmerrie England.\u201d\n\nThe same dislike for the festival of Christmas, with its drinking,\ndancing, and stage plays, came over to the New World with the\nPuritans. Only a year after the landing at Plymouth Governor Bradford\ncalled his men out to work, \u201con ye day called Christmas Day,\u201d as on\nother days. But certain young men, who had just come over in the\nlittle ship _Fortune_, held back and said it went against their\nconsciences to work on that day. So the governor told them that he\nwould spare them till they were better informed. But when he and the\nrest came home at noon from their work, he found them in the street\nat play openly, some pitching the bar and some at ball and such like\nsports. So he went to them and took away their implements and told\nthem it was against _his_ conscience that they should play and others\nwork. If they made the keeping of it matter of devotion, he said, let\nthem keep their houses, but there should be no gaming or revelling in\nthe street. Later, in 1659, a law was made that anybody found to be\nkeeping \u201cby feasting, or not working, or in any other way, any such\nday as Christmas Day, shall pay for every offense five shillings.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGoing Home for Christmas.\n\n\nIn the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode for a long\ndistance in one of the public coaches, on the day preceding\nChristmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with\npassengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the\nmansions of relations or friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It\nwas loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of\ndelicacies; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the\ncoachman\u2019s box\u2014presents from distant friends for the impending feast.\nI had three fine rosy-cheeked schoolboys for my fellow-passengers\ninside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit which I have\nobserved in the children of this country. They were returning home\nfor the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world\nof enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of\npleasure of the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they\nwere to perform during their six weeks\u2019 emancipation from the\nabhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of\nanticipations of the meeting with the family and household, down to\nthe very cat and dog; and of the joy they were to give their little\nsisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed; but\nthe meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest\nimpatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and,\naccording to their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed\nsince the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot! how he could run!\nand then such leaps as he would take\u2014there was not a hedge in the\nwhole country that he could not clear.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nA CHRISTMAS GIFT ON THE WAY TO A CHRISTMAS DINNER]\n\nThey were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to\nwhom, whenever an opportunity presented, they addressed a host of\nquestions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the whole\nworld. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of\nbustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on\none side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens stuck in the\nbuttonhole of his coat. He is always a personage full of mighty care\nand business, but he is particularly so during this season, having so\nmany commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange\nof presents....\n\nPerhaps the impending holiday might have given a more than usual\nanimation to the country, for it seemed to me as if everybody was in\ngood looks and good spirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of\nthe table were in brisk circulation in the villages; the grocers\u2019,\nbutchers\u2019, and fruiterers\u2019 shops were thronged with customers. The\nhousewives were stirring briskly about, putting their dwellings\nin order; and the glossy branches of holly, with their bright red\nberries, began to appear at the windows. The scene brought to mind an\nold writer\u2019s account of Christmas preparations: \u201cNow capons and hens,\nbesides turkeys, geese, and ducks, with beef and mutton\u2014must all\ndie; for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a\nlittle. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies\nand broth. Now or never must music be in tune, for the youth must\ndance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire.\nThe country maid leaves half her market, and must be sent again, if\nshe forgets a pack of cards on Christmas Eve. Great is the contention\nof Holly and Ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice and\ncards benefit the butler; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will\nsweetly lick his fingers.\u201d\n\nI was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation by a shout from\nmy little travelling companions. They had been looking out of the\ncoach windows for the last few miles, recognizing every tree and\ncottage as they approached home, and now there was a general burst of\njoy\u2014\u201cThere\u2019s John! and there\u2019s old Carlo! and there\u2019s Bantam!\u201d cried\nthe happy little rogues, clapping their hands.\n\nAt the end of a lane there was an old sober-looking servant in livery\nwaiting for them; he was accompanied by a superannuated pointer, and\nby the redoubtable Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a shaggy\nmane and long rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside,\nlittle dreaming of the bustling times that awaited him.\n\nI was pleased to see the fondness with which the little fellows\nleaped about the steady old footman, and hugged the pointer, who\nwriggled his whole body for joy. But Bantam was the great object\nof interest; all wanted to mount at once; and it was with some\ndifficulty that John arranged that they should ride by turns, and the\neldest should ride first.\n\nOff they set at last; one on the pony, with the dog bounding and\nbarking before him, and the others holding John\u2019s hands; both talking\nat once, and overpowering him by questions about home, and with\nschool anecdotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which I do\nnot know whether pleasure or melancholy predominated; for I was\nreminded of those days when, like them, I had neither known care nor\nsorrow, and a holiday was the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped\na few moments afterwards to water the horses, and on resuming our\nroute, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat country-seat.\nI could just distinguish the forms of a lady and two young girls in\nthe portico, and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and\nold John, trooping along the carriage road. I leaned out of the coach\nwindow, in hopes of witnessing the happy meeting, but a grove of\ntrees shut it from my sight.\n\n\n\n\nGod Rest You Merry, Gentlemen\n\n\n    God rest you merry, gentlemen,\n      Let nothing you dismay,\n    For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,\n      Was born upon this day;\n    To save us all from Satan\u2019s power,\n      When we were gone astray.\n        _O tidings of comfort and joy,\n        For Jesus Christ our Saviour\n          Was born on Christmas Day._\n\n    In Bethlehem in Jewry\n      This blessed babe was born,\n    And laid within a manger\n      Upon this blessed morn;\n    The which His mother Mary\n      Nothing did take in scorn.\n\n    From God, our Heavenly Father,\n      A blessed Angel came,\n    And, unto certain shepherds,\n      Brought tidings of the same;\n    How, that in Bethlehem was born\n      The Son of God by name.\n\n    The Shepherds at those tidings,\n      Rejoiced much in mind,\n    And left their flocks a-feeding\n      In tempest, storm, and wind,\n    And went to Bethlehem straightway,\n      This blessed Babe to find.\n\n    But when to Bethlehem they came,\n      Where as this Infant lay,\n    They found him in a manger\n      Where oxen feed on hay,\n    His mother Mary kneeling\n      Unto the Lord did pray.\n\n    Now to the Lord sing praises\n      All you within this place,\n    And with true love and brotherhood\n      Each other now embrace,\n    This holy tide of Christmas\n      All others doth deface.\n        _O tidings of comfort and joy,\n        For Jesus Christ our Saviour\n          Was born on Christmas Day._\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Correggio_\n\nTHE HOLY NIGHT]\n\n\n\n\nThe Date of Russia\u2019s Christmastide\n\n\nReal winter in Russia is supposed to start on the feast of St.\nNicholas of which the date, written in Russian style, is December\n6/19. The first figure gives the date of the month as it is known in\nRussia and Greece, the second the date according to the calendar in\nuse in all other civilized countries.\n\nThe calendar which was brought into use by Julius C\u00e6sar, and was\ncarried all over the then known world by the Romans, aimed to measure\nthe year by the time it takes the earth to move once around the sun.\nHis Egyptian astronomer figured that this required 365\u00bc days, so the\npractice was begun of having three years of 365 days, followed by a\nleap year, to which an extra day is given. As a matter of fact, the\nlength of the average year is _not exactly_ 365\u00bc days. To be sure,\nthat is only 11\u00bc seconds or so out of the way, and this may seem a\nvery small matter out of a whole year; but what happens is that every\n128 years or so the calendar of Julius C\u00e6sar or the Julian Calendar,\nas it is called, gets a day behind. By the year 1582, when Gregory\nXIII was Pope, the calendar was ten days slow. So Pope Gregory issued\nan order that the year was to take a new start and that thereafter\nthree leap years out of every four centuries should be omitted, which\nkeeps the calendar very nearly correct. But though Pope Gregory might\ndecree, it did not follow that every one would obey at once; the\nignorant thought that by the change of date they were losing ten\ndays of time and, of course, of wages. After some confusion all the\nRoman Catholic countries obeyed. England, being a Protestant country,\nignored Pope Gregory\u2019s commands. But it could not so easily dismiss\nthe knowledge of its own astronomers that the Gregorian Calendar,\nas it is called, is nearer the truth than the Julian. In 1752,\ntherefore, the date of the day of the year was changed by an Act of\nParliament. The day after September 3 was to be called September\n14, which it would have been if the calendar had not been slow. And\nnaturally the change was also made in America, to which the new style\nhad been brought already by French and Spanish settlers from Catholic\ncountries.\n\nThere were always hot jealousies between the Eastern Church, ruled\nfrom Constantinople, and the Western, ruled from Rome. The Eastern\nor Greek churches refused to change their calendar on the order of a\nLatin Pope, and to this day retain the old style, the Julian dates.\nThis is why their Christmas follows our Twelfth Day, for by this time\ntheir calendar is thirteen days behind the Gregorian. But to avoid\nconfusion the double date is very generally in use.\n\nDuring the time between the Day of St. Nicholas and Christmas it\nseems as if half Russia streams out upon the ice of the river\nNeva in St. Petersburg. All through the summer the boats come and\ngo, bringing food, fuel, building materials, everything the city\nneeds, from the interior; but the river is frozen for six months\nof the year, and in those months it is used as if it were public\nland. St. Petersburg is a very gay capital in winter, when the\nwealthier Russian nobles have left their country estates, and come\ndown to exchange visits, to give balls, or go dashing about in gay\nsleighs to join the sleighing or skating contests for which a part\nof the frozen river is reserved. All around the cleared spaces on\nthe ice, merchants have set up temporary booths; here you may buy\ntea and nutcakes; there holy pictures, or ikons, pictures of all\nthe possible saints, some costing a few pennies, others with gold\nand silver backgrounds costing many roubles, a rouble being worth\nabout fifty cents. On another part of the river a great provision\nmarket is held a little before Christmas, and the booths stretch\nfor miles. Everything is frozen. Countless oxen, piles of sheep and\ngoats, pyramids of pigs, form a frozen range of hillocks to which\nthe butcher comes to make his choice. With hatchet or saw he divides\nthe animal, ox, or pig, or it may be a bear, into sections which\nhis customers store in the ice-cellars which have all been freshly\nfilled. Thousands of workmen are engaged during the winter in cutting\nand drawing the ice from yet another part of the Neva, and on a still\nfrosty morning the clink of their axes against iron ice-breakers can\nbe heard at a long distance from the river.\n\nA great ceremony of the Greek Church takes place each year at the\nend of their Christmas season\u2014the Benediction of the Waters\u2014in every\ntown and village in Russia and down along the coasts of Greece. In\nSt. Petersburg the ceremony is performed by the Czar outside the\nWinter Palace. A wooden temple is put up out on the ice, decorated\nwith gilt and paintings within, and surrounded by a hedge of fir\nboughs without. A hole is made in the ice, and to this a long\nprocession makes its way; troops with bright banners, gorgeously\nrobed bishops, and priests carrying lighted tapers and big ikons,\nare followed by more soldiers, the Czar and Czarina in magnificently\njewelled robes, and after them their Court brilliant in uniforms and\nbeautiful fur-trimmed dresses. They have all attended one service\nin the Imperial Chapel; they now have another on the ice. The water\nis blessed, evil spirits flee away, the soldiers fire a salute,\nand every one is sprinkled with the now holy water. The procession\nreturns to the city, carrying with it great vessels of the holy water\nto be used later in all the churches. Then the people who have been\nlooking on try to get to the hole; some draw up pailfuls of the cold\nliquid; others plunge bodily into the icy water, believing that so\nthey will be cleansed from sin or sickness; many have even plunged\ndelicate babies into it, content, if the child does not survive the\nshock, in the belief that its soul is forever saved. And over every\ndoor in the great city on that day rests the sign of the cross, lest\nthe evil spirit expelled from the water should enter any home.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n[Illustration: Men and women]\n\n\n\n\nSt. Barbara\u2019s Grain\n\n\nOnly in the south of France, they say, is to be found the custom of\nplanting St. Barbara\u2019s grain on the fourth of December. Earthenware\ndishes an inch or two in depth are half filled with water, on the\nsurface of which wheat is scattered, or the small, flattened seeds of\nthe lentil, a leafy-stemmed plant whose honey-laden blossoms will,\nlater in the year, draw swarms of golden bees to the fields where it\nis planted. The dish is then set in the warm ashes of the fireplace,\nor on the deep stone sill of a sunny window, and the grain is left\nto sprout and grow so that on the table of the Christmas Eve supper\nthere may be this tender promise of the harvest of the year to come\u2014a\npale, delicate young greenness in strong contrast with the darker\nevergreens. The bent old _gran\u2019m\u00e8re_ by the hearth will tell you,\nthat as the growth is thick and sturdy or scattered and thin, so will\nbe the later harvests of grain, or honey.\n\nThe yellow daffodil, or narcissus, is a plant which first grew in\nsouthern France, and along the Mediterranean, and it may be that it\nwas some early settler from Languedoc or Provence, who introduced\ninto Louisiana a custom common half a century ago, that had a dim\nresemblance to this planting of St. Barbara\u2019s grain. The daffodil\nbulbs were planted in shallow earthenware dishes on the eve of All\nSaints, and set for three weeks in the warm dark, and later in the\nsun. The older creoles foretold a fruitful year if the flower bud\nwere well formed by St. Barbara\u2019s day.\n\n\n\n\nBefore the Paling of the Stars\n\n\n    Before the paling of the stars,\n      Before the winter morn,\n    Before the earliest cockcrow,\n      Jesus Christ was born:\n    Born in a stable,\n      Cradled in a manger,\n    In the world His hands had made\n      Born a stranger.\n\n    Priest and King lay fast asleep\n      In Jerusalem,\n    Young and old lay fast asleep\n      In crowded Bethlehem:\n    Saint and Angel, ox and ass,\n      Kept a watch together\n    Before the Christmas daybreak\n      In the winter weather.\n\n    Jesus on His Mother\u2019s breast\n      In the stable cold,\n    Spotless Lamb of God was He,\n      Shepherd of the fold:\n    Let us kneel with Mary Maid,\n      With Joseph bent and hoary,\n    With Saint and Angel, ox and ass,\n      To hail the King of Glory.\n\n\n\n\nA Midnight Mass in France\n\n\nThe great time for making gifts in France is the _Jour de l\u2019An_, the\nday of the year, our New Year\u2019s Day, when there is a great exchange\nof cards, good wishes, visits, and presents. On Christmas Eve,\neverything else used to pale before the exciting adventure of going\nto the church at midnight. After church came the Grand Supper, a\nfamily gathering from which the children were sent to bed long before\nthey were ready to go, comforting themselves as they climbed the\nstair by asking each other, \u201cWhat do you think P\u2019tit No\u00ebl will put in\nyour shoe?\u201d But they were always too sleepy to lie awake long enough\nto see whose hand it was that dropped into each little shoe under\nthe mantelpiece a few goodies or bits of silver coin. Sometimes one\nwas guiltily afraid that a black record of naughtiness deserved the\ndisgracing gift of a few pebbles, but then,\u2014surely Petit Jesus was\nforgiving and next year one would be very good, yes, of a certainty,\n_most_ good.\n\nEarlier in the evening the children had been allowed to play any\ngame they liked, however noisy, quite up to eleven o\u2019clock, which\nwas unusual enough by itself. Then began a great bundling up in furs\nand mufflers before the plunge from the warm candle-lighted room\ninto the frosty night, where stars shone like gold nails driven\ninto blue-black velvet; the frost crunched under wooden shoes; the\nlanterns threw strange, wavering shadows; a dry branch fell with a\nsudden crackle; far away a horse whickered and stamped just as one\nwas coming toward the deepest blackness of all, where the great gray\nchurch and the tall buildings about it threw the Grande Place into\ndensest shadow. Nothing in that sound should frighten one, but every\nchild had heard the peasants tell of this enchanted hour when animals\nin their stables could talk like men; still, nothing could harm a\nchild on the way to mass, of course, so one plucked up courage and\nsang out extra loudly in the refrain of whatever carol was being rung\non the chimes in the ivy-covered tower.\n\nThe old church had always seemed large, very large for the few who\nworshipped in it, but now it was majestic, reaching up toward the\nskies as if to gather from the angelic choir the great waves of music\nthat rolled down the valley to be heard miles away. And how could one\nhelp gasping when a gust of wind swept him suddenly into the porch;\nthere through the open door he was caught and drawn forward, adoring,\nby the full splendor of the altar, studded with lights, dazzling\nagainst dark walls, green with pine and laurel.\n\nAt one side was the cr\u00eache, the miniature stable scene, where the\nmother ever watched in wondering love the Holy Child. Down the long\nnave, from the damp stone floor which had never known the luxury\nof matting, great pillars lost themselves in the blackness of the\narches. But each who entered brought his lantern and set it on the\nstones in front of him; one after another the little lights like\nstars came twinkling out all over the church. And each newcomer\njoined in the carols sung before the mass was begun\u2014old, old\ncarols with beloved refrains which one heard only at Christmas time.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Blashfield_\n\nTHE BELLS]\n\nThe old mysteries, quaint plays in which long ago the peasants of\nSouthern France acted the simple stories of the adoration of the Babe\nby the angels, the shepherds, and the Wise Men, are seen no more,\nbut it is said that until very recently, in some of the provinces,\nat a certain pause in the mass, a shepherd knocks loudly on the\ngreat church door, the hollow sound echoing in the solemn hush. From\nwithout is heard singing, the voices of shepherds asking to come in.\nSlowly the doors swing back, the people part and the shepherds enter,\npassing up the nave between a double row of worshippers. In front\nare two or three boys playing softly on simple musical instruments,\none has a flute, another a tambourine. Then begins a quaint musical\ndialogue between these peasants in their long, weather-stained\ncloaks, and those who stand on either side.\n\nFrom one hand comes the question, in high treble,\n\n  _Where hast thou been?_\n\nAnd it is echoed from the other,\n\n  _What hast thou seen?_\n\nAnd the deep musical voices of the shepherds answer:\u2014\n\n    \u201c_Deep in a manger, a little child,\n     On the dry straw, slumbered and smiled._\u201d\n\nSo they move slowly, carrying a little fruit, a measure of grain, a\npair of pigeons, to where the priest stands waiting to bless their\nsimple gifts and lay them at the foot of the altar.\n\n\n\n\nThe Christchild and the Pine Tree\n\n\nOn the Holy Night when the Christchild was born, the earth lay very\nnear to heaven; all the world was at peace, and there was no noise of\nwar to keep men on earth from hearing the angels sing.\n\nAnimals and birds and trees alike were glad because of the coming of\nthe Holy Babe, and like the shepherds and the Wise Men came to bring\nto Him their gifts. Most of all the little pine tree beside the road\nlonged to take something to the Christchild.\n\nThe cedars, instead of pointing their branches upward in pointed\nslender trees, spread their branches wide, as Cedars of Lebanon\ndo to this day, and bent low to shelter the Mother and Child. But\nthe little pine was too small to shelter anything, and though he\nstretched and stretched, he was not even tall enough to keep the sun\nout of the eyes of the Wonderful Babe. He was barely tall enough\nfor the wind to make a whispering sound in the tips of his little\nbranches.\n\nThe thorn, although it was midwinter, suddenly blossomed out and\nbrought its white flowers to make a coverlet for the Child\u2019s cradle.\nAnd the little pine tree tried so hard to blossom that pine-needles\ncame out in tufts all over him, but that was all; only the wind\nthrough his branches now sounded like a sigh.\n\nThe \u201cbird of God,\u201d which we call the wren, flew quickly and brought\nsoft moss and feathers to make His cradle warm. \u201cI will pull off\nall my needles to make a bed for Him,\u201d the pine tree said. But when\nhe began to do that, Mother Mary smiled and shook her head. \u201cYour\nneedles would only prick Him, little pine,\u201d she said. And the little\npine rocked in pain and the wind sighed through his branches.\n\nThe olive came and brought sweet-smelling oil, with which to rub the\nChristchild\u2019s little limbs; and the pine tree saw her and ached so\nfor something to give that the resin stood out in big drops along his\nstem. \u201cOh!\u201d he cried joyfully, \u201cI, too, have oil to give.\u201d And Mother\nMary\u2019s smile was very tender as she shook her head again and said\ngently, \u201cBut your drops are sticky, and they would hurt His tender\nskin, dear little pine.\u201d So the little pine was very unhappy because\nit had nothing to offer the Christchild. And year by year as he grew\ntaller, and remembered the Holy Night, the wind swept through his\nbranches with a sound that was almost a moan; and ever since you can\nhear that sound from pine trees all the world over.\n\nNow for hundreds of years after, on each Christmas Eve, the\nChristchild comes again, in the likeness of a poor child, gathering\nfallen sticks in the forest. Up and down the hills He goes, shivering\nin the icy cold, knocking at every door, whether it is of a cabin\nor a castle, until He finds some one who, remembering His lesson of\nlove, calls Him in to find warmth and shelter; and such a home He\nblesses. Some there are who, like the pine tree, long to serve Him,\nand these place a candle in the window, that if He pass along their\nway, He may see it and come in.\n\nBut one night there was no door open and as He walked wearily through\nthe pine wood the wind shrieked through the trees bending before Him.\nThen the Christchild turned aside and crept under the low branches of\na pine tree, which was large enough now to shelter Him; and the moss\nlifted itself from the snow to make a soft bed for the tired Child.\nAnd the pine tree, drawing its branches close above Him, was so happy\nthat tears of joy ran down his branches and freezing, hung in slender\nicicles. And as the first red rays of the sun on Christmas morning\nshone upon them they glittered like the candles on your Christmas\ntree, and the Christchild opened His eyes and smiled.\n\n\n\n\nA Birthday Gift\n\n\n    What can I give Him,\n    Poor as I am?\n    If I were a shepherd\n    I would bring a lamb,\n    If I were a Wise Man\n    I would do my part,\n    Yet what I can give Him,\u2014\n          Give my heart.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Hunt_\n\nTHE TRIUMPH OF THE INNOCENTS]\n\n\n\n\nThe Christmas Fire in Servia\n\n\nServia is one of the countries in which the old, old customs have\nlasted longest. They began in the times when men looked forward\nlongingly to \u201cthe days in which the sun, having gone far enough into\nthe snowy plains of the winter, turns back toward the green fields\nof summer.\u201d The celebration begins on the day before Christmas,\nwhich the older Servian songs call \u201cthe day of the old Badnyak.\u201d No\none seems to know who Badnyak was; but some have believed that the\nfast-day was first kept in honor of the old sun-god, who was thought\nof as grown weak and faint, and as giving place to a younger. For on\nthe next day was the feast of \u201cthe little God,\u201d the new sun who was\nto bring summer back again. Nowadays, the name is given to logs cut\nfor the Christmas fire.\n\nEvery Servian boy is up before daylight on the day before Christmas,\nfor he, of course, must be on hand when the strongest young men of\nthe family start out with a cart and a pair of oxen to cut a young\noak tree and bring it home. Upon the chosen tree they throw a handful\nof wheat with the greeting, \u201cHappy Badnyi Day to you!\u201d Then they\nbegin to cut it very carefully, timing the strokes of the axes and\nplacing them so that the tree shall fall directly toward the rising\nsun, and at the exact moment when its red ball begins to show at the\nedge of the world. If by any mischance, or a stroke of the axe in\nthe wrong place, the tree falls toward the west, there will be great\ndistress, for this is thought to mean that very bad luck will follow\nthe family through all the coming year. If the tree should fall in\nthe right direction but catch in the branches of another, the good\nfortune of the family will only be delayed for a while. The small\nboy\u2019s part is to watch very closely where the first chip falls, for\nit is most important to carry home that first oak chip. The trunk of\nthe tree is trimmed and cut into two or three logs, of which one is\na foot or more longer than the others. They are then dragged to the\nhouse, but are not taken inside until sunset; in the meantime they\nstand in the courtyard on either side the door. The house mother\nleaves her work as they are brought home to break a flat cake of\npurest wheat flour upon the longest log, while the little girls sing\nspecial songs. But soon she goes back to her work, for there is a\ndeal to be done before sunset; the women are making Christmas cakes\nin the shape of lambs and chickens, and most often of little pigs\nwith blunt-pointed noses and curly tails. For the pig belongs to a\nServian Christmas as much as turkey does to an American Thanksgiving.\nLong ago the pagan Servians used to sacrifice a pig to the sun-god\non the day of the old Badnyak; and to this day you will not find\none Servian house in which \u201croast pig\u201d is not the chief dish of the\nChristmas dinner. While the women bake, the men prepare the pig for\nthe next day\u2019s roasting. The boy who so carefully brought home that\nfirst oak chip put it at once into a wooden bowl, and his little\nsister and he cover the chip, and fill the bowl with wheat.\n\nJust at sunset the whole family gathers in the big kitchen. The\nmother of the family gives a pair of woollen gloves to one of the\nmen\u2014most often to the father, sometimes to the strongest of her\nsons, who goes outside to bring in the Badnyak. Tall wax candles\nare set on either side the open door, and in front of it the mother\nstands with the wooden bowl in her hands. As the log is brought in\nshe throws a handful of wheat at the bearer, who says, \u201cGood evening,\nand may you have a happy Badnyi Day.\u201d He is answered by a chorus of\ngreetings from all in the room. In some parts of the country each\nman present brings in a log and at each is thrown a little wheat\nin sign of the wish that, in the year to come, food may be plenty\nenough to throw away. A glass of red wine is then sprinkled on the\nlog, and the oldest and the strongest of the family together place\nit on the burning fire in such a way that the thick end of the log\nsticks out above the hearth for about a foot. And sometimes you may\nsee a prudent father smear the end of it with honey and place on it\na bowl of wheat, an orange, and the ploughshare, that they may be so\nwarmed by the Christmas fire that the cattle shall be fed, the bees\nindustrious, and the trees and fields be fruitful, through all the\nyear.\n\n\n\n\nThe Day of the Little God\n\n\nThere is so little sleep for the Servian peasant on a Christmas\nmorning that very few except the old and the babies go to bed at all\non the night before \u201cthe day of the little God,\u201d as it is called. For\none thing, the new Badnyak, the great log on the Christmas fire, must\nbe kept burning all the time, and brightly. Then the all-important\npig must be set to roast early. When it is ready and laid before the\nfire, some one goes outside and fires off a gun or pistol; and when\nthe roasted pig is taken from the fire, the shooting is repeated.\nFrom four to eight o\u2019clock on a Christmas morning every Servian\nvillage re\u00ebchoes as if it were celebrating the Fourth of July with\ncannon crackers.\n\nJust before sunrise some young girl of the family goes to the\nfountain, or the brook from which they usually get their drinking\nwater. Before she fills her pots or jars she greets the water,\nwishing it a happy Christmas, and throws into it a handful of wheat.\nThe first cupfuls of water drawn are put into a special jar and\nare used to make the \u201cChesnitza,\u201d the Christmas cake, which is to\nbe divided into a piece for each member of the family, present or\nabsent. A small silver coin baked into it is supposed to fall to the\nlot of that member of the family who is to meet with special good\nfortune during the coming year.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _H. Hofmann_\n\nBETHLEHEM]\n\nNo other visitor is allowed to enter the house before the \u201cPolaznik,\u201d\nthe Christmas guest, has come. The part is usually taken by some boy\nfrom a neighbor\u2019s family, who comes very early and brings with him a\nwoollen glove full of wheat. When at his knock the door is opened,\nhe showers the wheat over those around the brightly burning fire and\ninto all corners of the room with the greeting, \u201cChrist is born.\u201d The\nmother of the family throws a handful of wheat at him and all the\nothers shout, \u201cIn truth, He is born!\u201d The guest then walks straight\nto the fire, and with the heavy shovel strikes the burning log with\nall his force repeatedly, so that thousands of sparks rise high in\nthe chimney, while he says, \u201cMay you have this year so many oxen,\nso many horses, so many sheep, so many pigs, so many beehives of\nhoney, so much good luck, so much success and happiness.\u201d After this\ngood wish he kisses his host, drops to his knees before the Christmas\nlog on the fire, kisses one end of it, which sticks out of the\nfireplace into the room, and places a coin upon it as his gift. As he\nrises, a woman offers him a low wooden chair, but just as he seats\nhimself draws it away so that he sits down hard upon the ground, and\nis thus supposed to fix to it firmly every good wish he has spoken.\nFinally he is wrapped in a thick blanket, and with it around him sits\nquietly for a few minutes while the young folks who are to tend the\nflocks and herds in the coming year come to the hearth and kiss each\nother solemnly across the Christmas log. The wearing of the blanket\nis said to insure thick cream in the next year, and the shepherds\u2019\nkisses will make for peace and plenty among the cattle.\n\nBefore the chief meal of the day, all the members of the family\ngather about its head, each with a lighted candle in hand, while he\nprays briefly. Then they turn and kiss each other with such greetings\nas: \u201cPeace of God be with us!\u201d \u201cChristos is born!\u201d \u201cIn truth, He is\nborn!\u201d \u201cTherefore let us bow before Christos and His birth.\u201d And\ntoward the end of the meal all stand to drink \u201cto the glory of God\nand of the birth of Christ,\u201d which marks the end of the Christmas\ncelebration.\n\n\n\n\nNature Folk-lore of Christmastide\n\n\nAmong all the older peoples of Europe there are many bits of folk\nstories which tell of the wonderful peace which fell upon the world\non the night of the Holy Eve. A Bosnian legend says that at the\ntime of the birth of Christ \u201cthe sun in the east bowed down, the\nstars stood still, the mountains and the forests shook and touched\nthe earth with their summits, and the green pine tree bent, ...\nthe grass was beflowered with opening blossoms, incense sweet as\nmyrrh pervaded upland and forest, birds sang on the mountain top,\nand all gave thanks to the great God.\u201d This belief in the holy and\ngracious kinship of all nature at this season finds expression in\nmany countries in an added tenderness for all living things during\nYuletide. The very sparrows, whose nests the boys are free to raid at\nany other time, have a sheaf of rye set up for their Christmas feast,\nsays Mr. Riis, who tells that once, stranded in a Michigan town, he\nwas wandering about the streets and came upon such a sheaf raised\nupon a pole in a dooryard. \u201cI knew at once,\u201d he says, \u201cthat one of my\npeople lived in that house and kept Yule in the old way. So I felt as\nif I were not quite a stranger.\u201d\n\nIn England, robins are the birds of Christmas time; an old legend has\nit that on the day of Christ\u2019s suffering the robin fluttered beside\nHim, and in trying to pluck thorns from His crown stained its breast\ncrimson.\n\n    So ever when the snow comes round\n      To crown the wintry year,\n    Perched high upon the holly bough\n      Red Robin warbles clear.\n\n    No other songster on the spray\n      At Christmas time is heard,\n    But when the Saviour\u2019s birth we keep,\n      We hear the Saviour\u2019s bird.\n\nThe Spanish show special kindness at this time to any ass or cow,\nbelieving that on Holy Night they breathed upon the Christchild to\nkeep Him warm. Many other quaint old beliefs used to be common about\nhow the animals act at Christmas time. From northern Canada comes\nthe Indian saying that on the Holy Night the deer all kneel and look\nup to the Great Spirit, but that whoever spies upon them will have\nstiffness in his knees for all the year to come. In the German Alps\nit was believed that animals have the gift of speech on Christmas\nEve, but that he who listens will surely hear them foretell some evil\nfor the listener. Of a like belief Mr. Riis says that, when he was a\nboy:\u2014\n\n\u201cAll the animals knew perfectly well that the holiday had come, and\nkept it in their way. The watch-dog was unchained. In the midnight\nhour on the Holy Eve the cattle stood up in their stalls and bowed\nout of respect and reverence for Him who was laid in a manger when\nthere was no room in the inn, and in that hour speech was given them,\nand they talked together. Claus, our neighbor\u2019s man, had seen and\nheard it, and every Christmas Eve I meant fully to go and be there\nwhen it happened; but always long before that I had been led away\nto bed, a very sleepy boy, with all my toys hugged tight, and when I\nwoke up the daylight shone through the frosted window-panes, and they\nwere blowing good morning from the church tower; it would be a whole\nyear before another Christmas. So I vowed, with a sigh at having\nneglected a really sacred observance, that I would be there sure on\nthe next Christmas Eve. But it was always so, every year, and perhaps\nit was just as well, for Claus said that it might go ill with the one\nwho listened, if the cows found him out.\u201d\n\nIn the older parts of Montenegro, the head of the family and his\nshepherd boy still follow the quaint old custom of lighting the\nanimals to their stalls on Christmas Eve. Each takes a lighted wax\ncandle and they go together into every stall in turn, holding the\ncandles for a moment in each of its corners. Then, at the stable\ndoor they take stand, one at each side of it, and hold their candles\nhigh while the little shepherdess drives the animals in. One by one,\nsheep, goats, and oxen, they pass between the flickering lights.\nAfter that, the shepherd boy and the little shepherdess kiss each\nother \u201cthat the cattle may live in peace and love,\u201d they say.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n[Illustration: Deer]\n\n\n\n\nGood King Wenceslas\n\n\n    Good King Wenceslas looked out\n      On the Feast of Stephen,\n    When the snow lay round about,\n      Deep, and crisp, and even.\n\n    Brightly shone the moon that night,\n      Though the frost was cruel,\n    When a poor man came in sight,\n      Gath\u2019ring winter fuel.\n\n    \u201cHither, page, and stand by me,\n      If thou know\u2019st it telling,\n    Yonder peasant, who is he?\n      Where and what his dwelling?\u201d\n\n    \u201cSire, he lives a good league hence,\n      Underneath the mountain;\n    Right against the forest fence,\n      By St. Agnes\u2019 fountain.\u201d\n\n    \u201cBring me flesh, and bring me wine,\n      Bring me pine logs hither;\n    Thou and I will see him dine,\n      When we bear them thither.\u201d\n\n    Page and monarch forth they went,\n      Forth they went together;\n    Through the rude wind\u2019s wild lament,\n      And the bitter weather.\n\n    \u201cSire, the night is darker now,\n      And the wind blows stronger;\n    Fails my heart, I know not how,\n      I can go no longer.\u201d\n\n    \u201cMark my footsteps, good my page!\n      Tread thou in them boldly;\n    Thou shalt find the winter\u2019s rage\n      Freeze thy blood less coldly.\u201d\n\n    In his master\u2019s steps he trod,\n      Where the snow lay dinted;\n    Heat was in the very sod\n      Which the saint had printed.\n\n    Therefore, Christian men, be sure,\n      Wealth or rank possessing,\n    Ye who now will bless the poor,\n      Shall yourselves find blessing.\n\n\n\n\nA Mexican \u201cMystery\u201d seen by Bayard Taylor\n\n\nAgainst the wing-wall of the Hacienda del Mayo, which occupied one\nend of the plaza, was raised a platform, on which stood a table\ncovered with a scarlet cloth. A rude bower of cane leaves on one end\nof the platform represented the manger of Bethlehem, while a cord\nstretched from its top across the plaza to a hole in the front of the\nchurch bore a large tinsel star, suspended by a hole in its centre.\nThere was quite a crowd in the plaza, and very soon a procession\nappeared, coming up from the lower part of the village. The three\nkings took the lead; the Virgin, mounted on an ass that gloried in\na gilded saddle and rose-besprinkled mane and tail, followed them,\nled by the angel; and several women, with curious masks of paper,\nbrought up the rear. Two characters, of the harlequin sort\u2014one with a\ndog\u2019s head on his shoulders, and the other a bald-headed friar, with\na huge hat hanging on his back\u2014played all sorts of antics for the\ndiversion of the crowd. After making the circuit of the plaza, the\nVirgin was taken to the platform, and entered the manger. King Herod\ntook his seat at the scarlet table, with an attendant in blue coat\nand red sash, whom I took to be his Prime Minister. The three kings\nremained on their horses in front of the church; between them and the\nplatform, under the string on which the star was to slide, walked\ntwo men in long white robes and blue hoods, with parchment folios\nin their hands. These were the Wise Men of the East, as one might\nreadily know from their solemn air, and the mysterious glances which\nthey cast toward all quarters of the heavens.\n\nIn a little while, a company of women on the platform, concealed\nbehind a curtain, sang an angelic chorus to the tune of \u201cOpescator\ndell\u2019 onda.\u201d At the proper moment, the Magi turned toward the\nplatform, following the star, to which a string was conveniently\nattached that it might be slid along the line. The three kings\nfollowed the star till it reached the manger, when they dismounted,\nand inquired for the sovereign, whom it had led them to visit.\nThey were invited upon the platform and introduced to Herod, as\nthe only king; this did not seem to satisfy them, and, after some\nconversation, they retired. By this time the star had receded to the\nother end of the line and commenced moving again, they following.\nThe angel called them into the manger, where, upon their knees, they\nwere shown a small wooden box, supposed to contain the sacred infant:\nthey then retired, and the star brought them back no more. After\nthis departure, King Herod declared himself greatly confused by what\nhe had witnessed, and was very much afraid this newly found king\nwould weaken his power. Upon consultation with his Prime Minister,\nthe Massacre of the Innocents was decided upon, as the only means of\nsecurity.\n\nThe angel, on hearing this, gave warning to the Virgin, who quickly\ngot down from the platform, mounted her bespangled donkey, and\nhurried off. Herod\u2019s Prime Minister directed all the children to be\nhanded up for execution. A boy, in ragged sarape, was caught and\nthrust forward; the Minister took him by the heels in spite of his\nkicking, and held his head on the table. The little brother and\nsister of the boy, thinking he was really to be decapitated, yelled\nat the top of their voices, in an agony of terror, which threw the\ncrowd into a roar of laughter. King Herod brought down his sword with\na whack on the table, and the Prime Minister, dipping his brush into\na pot of white paint which stood before him, made a flaring cross on\nthe boy\u2019s face. Several other boys were caught and served likewise;\nand finally, the two harlequins, whose kicks and struggles nearly\nshook down the platform. The procession then went off up the hill,\nfollowed by the whole population of the village.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nTHE CHRISTMAS TREE MARKET IN NEW YORK]\n\n\n\n\nBreaking the Pi\u00f1ate\n\n\nIf you were in Mexico the week before Christmas you would not find\none Christmas tree, unless it were in some town where Americans\nhave been living for a good while. But everywhere children would\nbe talking about breaking a pi\u00f1ate (pronounced pin-yah-tay) as you\ntalk of having a tree. In the small stalls set up in the plazas\nfor the sale of Christmas gifts there are hundreds of different\ngayly colored pi\u00f1ates. Some are bowl-shaped or oval jars made out\nof the coarse red earthenware of Puebla, painted with dashes of\nyellow and black in patterns that have been copied from old Indian\npottery. Others are made of paper in gay stripes of red and yellow,\nin shape like tissue-paper balloons, and are decorated with tinsel\nornaments and streamers of bright-colored paper, such as are hung\non Christmas trees. Others still are made in the shape of grotesque\nfigures, clowns with baggy trousers, dancing girls in wide-spread\nskirts, monks in long cloaks, and animals. All of them, jars or\npaper figures, are easily breakable; they are stuffed with sweets,\ncrackers, rattles, whistles, or any other toys which are small and\nlight, and parents hang them\u2014usually on Christmas Eve\u2014from the\nceiling of a room or from a branch of a tree in the courtyard. Each\nchild of the family in turn after being blindfolded, given a long\nstick, and led some distance away from the hanging pi\u00f1ate, is allowed\nto grope toward where he thinks it is and to strike out at it three\ntimes in the effort to break it. If he fails, another is given the\nchance. Mexican families are large and often a father and all his\nsons live together in square, flat-roofed buildings of sun-dried\nbrick around a common courtyard. So there is a deal of laughter and\nexcitement as one child after another makes his trial. At last one\nmanages to hit the pi\u00f1ate so that it breaks open and toys, sweets,\nand ornaments come down in a shower. This is the moment for which\nthe children crowding around have been waiting, and they swoop down\nupon the dainties in a joyous scramble. The successful child usually\nreceives a special prize; for, blindfolded as he is, he stands small\nchance of getting anything else.\n\nBreaking the pi\u00f1ate usually follows a curious ceremony in which all\nthose present walk together around the house several times chanting a\nlitany. The procession is in memory of the night when Joseph and Mary\njourneyed to Bethlehem and found no room in the inn. Often even the\ndonkey belonging to the family is brought into the ceremony. After\nthe litany some go within the house while others outside sing a plea\nfor admittance, which is at first roughly refused. Finally they are\nadmitted, and another hymn is followed by feasting and merry-making,\nof which breaking the pi\u00f1ate is the children\u2019s part.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nChristmas upon a Greenland Iceberg\n\n\nOne hot June day in 1869 there was a great stir in the new harbor\nof Bremerhaven in Germany; at its entrance lay two stout ships,\nthe _Germania_ and the _Hansa_, fully fitted out for Arctic\nexploration. Visitors and messengers were going back and forth. The\nKing of Prussia himself, with many of his nobles, the Grand Duke of\nMecklenburg, Schwerin, Count Bismarck, and General von Moltke among\nthem, had come from Berlin to say Godspeed to the commander and the\nscientific gentlemen who were braving unknown dangers, and certain\nprivations and hardships \u201cfor the honor of the German navy and of\nGerman science,\u201d as his Majesty expressed it.\n\nThe last of the cases of stores hoisted on board the _Hansa_ were\nstowed away with a peculiar laughing tenderness. They were stout\nchests cased in lead in which friends of these explorers had placed\nsuch friendly little trifles as are inseparable from the celebration\nof Christmas wherever the Germans may be.\n\nThere is no place in this book for the story of their adventures\nin the slow voyage up beyond the ice line. In July, by some\nmisunderstanding of signals, the two ships separated, never to\nmeet again. In September the _Hansa_ was caught in a great field\nof floating ice and was carried for two hundred days thereafter in\nthe drift of the floe. An October storm so racked the ship that her\ncaptain and crew were forced to abandon her and carry everything\nout upon the ice. The great coal-bin of the ship was taken out and\nturned into a store hut. All the supplies were taken there, the\nship\u2019s three boats were carefully secured, everything was taken from\nthe _Hansa_ which could be used for fuel, and at last the ship was\ncut away from the ice lest in sinking she destroy them.\n\nThen began a frightful period of drifting. Storm after storm put them\nin danger of a sudden death which may have seemed more desirable\nthan waiting for the winds and currents to carry them slowly into a\nwarmer sea and toward the natural breaking up of the ice-floe. Hope\nof rescue in those lonely waters was faint.\n\nBut they lived bravely and worked steadily, constructing around\nthe main hut, from the timbers saved from the _Hansa_, small black\nshelters in which, all but buried in the snow, the men lived. And\nthat they kept Christmas in true German fashion the log of the vessel\ntells:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe tree was erected in the afternoon, while the greater part of the\ncrew took a walk; and the lonely hut shone with wonderful brightness\namid the snow. Christmas upon a Greenland iceberg! The tree was\nartistically put together of firwood and ravelled matweed [hemp?],\nand Dr. Laube had saved a twist of wax taper for the illumination.\nChains of colored paper and newly baked cakes were not wanting, and\nthe men had made a knapsack and a revolver case as a present for\nthe captain. We opened the leaden chests of presents from Professor\nHochstetter and the Geological Society, and were much amused by their\ncontents. Each man had a glass of port wine; and we then turned\nover the old newspapers which we found in the chests, and drew lots\nfor the presents, which consisted of small musical instruments, such\nas fifes, jews\u2019-harps, trumpets, etc., with draughts and other games,\npuppets, crackers, etc. In the evening we feasted on chocolate and\ngingerbread.\u201d\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _From paintings by Raphael_\n\nHEADS OF THE CHRIST CHILD]\n\n\u201cWe observed the day very quietly,\u201d wrote Dr. Laube in his diary. \u201cIf\nthis Christmas be the last we are to see, it was at least a cheerful\none; but should a happy return home be decreed for us, the next will,\nwe trust, be a far brighter. May God so grant!\u201d\n\nAnd He did. But that is not a Christmas story, and you will have to\nlook elsewhere for it.\n\n\n\n\nLuther\u2019s Christmas Carol for Children\n\n\n    Good news from Heaven the angels bring,\n    Glad tidings to the earth they sing:\n    To us this day a child is given,\n    To crown us with the joy of heaven.\n\n    This is the Christ, our Lord and God,\n    Who in all need shall aid afford:\n    He will Himself our Saviour be,\n    From sin and sorrow set us free.\n\n    To us that blessedness He brings,\n    Which from the Father\u2019s bounty springs:\n    That in the heavenly realm we may\n    With Him enjoy eternal day.\n\n    All hail, Thou noble Guest, this morn,\n    Whose love did not the sinner scorn!\n    In my distress Thou cam\u2019st to me:\n    What thanks shall I return to Thee?\n\n    Were earth a thousand times as fair,\n    Beset with gold and jewels rare,\n    She yet were far too poor to be\n    A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.\n\n    Ah, dearest Jesus, Holy Child!\n    Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,\n    Within my heart, that it may be\n    A quiet chamber kept for Thee.\n\n    Praise God upon His heavenly throne,\n    Who gave to us His only Son:\n    For this His hosts, on joyful wing,\n    A blest New Year of mercy sing.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Good Night in Spain\n\n\nIf you were a child in Spain, you would not be talking of Christmas\ntrees in the late December days, but of _navidades_, or \u201cnativities.\u201d\nThese are tiny models of a scene supposed to be Bethlehem. Some of\nthem are very simple, made of cardboard, colored paper, bits of stone\nand sand. On one side is a hill, built up of paper or plaster, and\nin the side of it is the cave to which the gentle cattle were used\nto come for food and shelter. By its crude match-wood manger stand\nor sit little figures of the Holy Family. Often these are modelled\nfrom beautiful designs, the work of famous artists who put their\nhighest skill into creating the tiny images of the mother and the\nHoly Child. Outside the cave stand the patient oxen, and perhaps the\ndonkey upon which the Infant Christ is to be carried out of the reach\nof Herod. Overhead sparkles a shining star. Some of these simple\n\u201cnativities\u201d can be bought for a few cents. Others made of better\nmaterials, or with greater care, and with many figures, are more\ncostly. These have, besides the Holy Family, perhaps, a fire of ruddy\ntinfoil around which shepherds gather, looking, in their straight\nbrown cloaks, as if they might have stepped from your Noah\u2019s ark, and\nback of them, on a hillside of green cloth, little white wool lambs\nfeed quietly. In still another you may even see a smuggler with a\nslouch hat pulled down over his eyes, hiding with a load of tobacco\nbehind a paper rock to leave the road free for the Three Kings who in\nall their tinsel go journeying to worship the Holy Child. The roads\nare rough with bits of cork, the river is a strip of glass, and the\nbridge over which the camels of the Wise Men pass is clearly of paper\nstone; the rabbit hiding in the evergreens is quite as large as the\ndonkey saddled for the flight into Egypt; but in the magic of \u201cthe\nHoly Night\u201d all seem to be real, to live and feel, so natural and\ntender is the children\u2019s faith in these simple \u201cnativities,\u201d which\nare repeated on a larger scale in all the churches.\n\nOn Christmas Eve, or the Good Night, as the Spanish children say,\nevery one must go to the church for the midnight mass, and of course\nno one goes to bed before that. Early in the dusk the toy dealers\nbring their booths and flaming naphtha torches to the village plaza,\nand the children swarm around them like flies to sweets. All the week\nbefore groups of these children have been going from door to door at\nnight singing to familiar tunes ballads which tell the story of the\nNativity, and he is a poor Spaniard who cannot find some small coins\nfor the band of singers. On Holy Night, too, after they have made\nthe small round of the toy-dealers\u2019 stands, they go to each other\u2019s\nhouses to look at the different nativities and sing one carol after\nanother in which a single voice carries a verse, remembered or made\nup at the time, and the others join in the refrain while two of them\ndance. At the end of each verse the two whose turn it has been to\ndance go up to the nativity with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, open\nwide their little arms and fall on their knees, with the exclamation\n\u201cFor Thee.\u201d In some places the children will instead carry a nativity\ninto the plaza, singing carols in which every one joins.\n\n[Illustration: Woman with baby]\n\nOne such carol is this lullaby:\u2014\n\n    \u201cThe Baby Child of Mary,\n      Now cradle He has none;\n    His father is a carpenter\n      And he shall make Him one.\n        _His father is a carpenter\n        And he shall make Him one._\n\n    \u201cThe Lady, good St. Anna,\n      The Lord, St. Joachim,\n    They rock the Baby\u2019s cradle\n      That sleep may come to Him.\n        _They rock the Baby\u2019s cradle\n        That sleep may come to Him._\n\n    \u201cThen sleep thou, too, my baby,\n      My little heart so dear;\n    The Virgin is beside thee,\n      The Son of God is near.\n        _The Virgin is beside thee,\n        The Son of God is near._\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nA Christmas Tree in Japan\n\n\nIt was a huge Christmas tree, the first that had ever grown in\nour compound,[1] for the children of our servants and writers and\nemployees, who make up the number of our Legation population to close\non two hundred. I could not have the tree on Christmas Day, owing to\nvarious engagements; so it was fixed for January 3, and was quite the\nmost successful entertainment I ever gave!\n\nWhen I undertook it, I confess that I had no idea how many little\nones belonged to the compound. I sent our good Ogita round to invite\nthem all solemnly to come to Ichiban (Number One) on the 3d at\nfive o\u2019clock. Ogita threw himself into the business with delighted\ngood-will, having five little people of his own to include in the\ninvitation; but all the servants were eager to help as soon as they\nknew we were preparing a treat for the children. That is work which\nwould always appeal to Japanese of any age or class. No trouble is\ntoo great, if it brings pleasure to the \u201ctreasure flowers,\u201d as the\nbabies are called. Some of them were not little, and these were more\ndifficult to buy presents for; but after many cold hours passed in\nthe different bazaars, it seemed to me that there must be something\nfor everybody, although we had really spent very little money.\n\nThe wares were so quaint and pretty that it was a pleasure to sort\nand handle them. There were work-boxes in beautiful polished woods,\nwith drawers fitting so perfectly that when you closed one the\ncompressed air at once shot out another. There were mirrors enclosed\nin charming embroidered cases; for where mirrors are mostly made of\nmetal, people learn not to let them get scratched. There were dollies\nof every size, and dolls\u2019 houses and furniture, kitchens, farmyards,\nrice-pounding machines\u2014all made in the tiniest proportions, such\nas it seemed no human fingers could really have handled. For the\nelder boys we bought books, school-boxes with every school requisite\ncontained in a square the size of one\u2019s hand, and penknives and\nscissors, which are greatly prized as being of foreign manufacture.\nFor decorations we had an abundant choice of materials. I got forests\nof willow branches decorated with artificial fruits; pink and white\nballs made of rice paste, which are threaded on the twigs; surprise\nshells of the same paste, two lightly stuck together in the form of\na double scallop shell, and full of miniature toys; _kanzashi_, or\nornamental hairpins for the girls, made flowers of gold and silver\namong my dark pine branches; and I wasted precious minutes in opening\nand shutting these dainty roses\u2014buds until you press a spring, when\nthey open suddenly into a full-blown rose. But the most beautiful\nthings on my tree were the icicles, which hung in scores from its\nsombre foliage, catching rosy gleams of light from our lamps as\nwe worked late into the night. These were\u2014chopsticks, long glass\nchopsticks, which I discovered in the bazaar; and I am sure Santa\nKlaus himself could not have told them from icicles. Of course every\npresent must be labelled with a child\u2019s name, and here my troubles\nbegan. Ogita was told to make out a correct list of names and ages,\nwith some reference to the calling of the parents; for even here\nrank and precedence must be observed, or terrible heart-burnings\nmight follow. The list came at last, and if it were not so long,\nI would send it to you complete, for it is a curiosity. Imagine\nsuch complicated titles as these: \u201cMinister\u2019s second cook\u2019s girl,\nUme, age 2;\u201d \u201cMinister\u2019s servant\u2019s cousin\u2019s boy, age 11;\u201d \u201cStudent\u2019s\ninterpreter\u2019s teacher\u2019s girl;\u201d \u201cVice-Consul\u2019s jinrikisha-man\u2019s boy.\u201d\nAnd so it went on, till there were fifty-eight of them of all ages,\nfrom one up to nineteen. Some of them, indeed, were less than a year\nold; and I was amused on the evening of the 2d at having the list\nbrought back to me with this note (Ogita\u2019s English is still highly\nindividual!) \u201cMarked X is declined to the invitation.\u201d On looking\ndown the column, I found that ominous looking cross only against\none name, that of Yasu, daughter of Ito Kanejiro, Mr. G\u2014\u2014\u2019s cook.\nThis recalcitrant little person turned out to be six weeks old\u2014an\nearly age for parties even nowadays. Miss Yasu, having been born in\nNovember, was put down in the following January as two years old,\nafter the puzzling Japanese fashion. Then I found that they would\nwrite boys as girls, girls as boys, grown-ups as babies, and so\non. Even at the last moment a doll had to be turned into a sword,\na toy tea-set into a work-box, a history of Europe into a rattle;\nbut people who grow Christmas trees are prepared for such small\ncontingencies, and no one knew anything about it when on Friday\nafternoon the great tree slowly glowed into a pyramid of light,\nand a long procession of little Japs was marshalled in, with great\nsolemnity and many bows, till they stood, a delighted, wide-eyed\ncrowd, round the beautiful shining thing, the first Christmas\ntree any of them had ever seen. It was worth all the trouble to see\nthe gasp of surprise and delight, the evident fear that the whole\nthing might be unreal and suddenly fade away. One little man of two\nfell flat on his back with amazement, tried to rise and have another\nlook, and in so doing rolled over on his nose, where he lay quite\nsilent till his relatives rescued him. Behind the children stood the\nmothers, quite as pleased as they, and with them one very old lady\nwith a little child on her back.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright, 1908, by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nMAKING GLASS AND TINSEL ORNAMENTS FOR CHRISTMAS TREES]\n\nThe children stood, the little ones in front and the taller ones\nbehind, in a semicircle, and the many lights showed their bright\nfaces and gorgeous costumes, for no one would be outdone by another\nin smartness\u2014I fancy the poorer women had borrowed from richer\nneighbors\u2014and the result was picturesque in the extreme. The older\ngirls had their heads beautifully dressed, with flowers and pins and\nrolls of scarlet crape knotted in between the coils; their dresses\nwere pale green or blue, with bright linings and stiff silk obis; but\nthe little ones were a blaze of scarlet, green, geranium pink, and\norange, their long sleeves sweeping the ground, and the huge flower\npatterns on their garments making them look like live flowers as they\nmoved about on the dark velvet carpet. When they had gazed their\nfill, they were called up to me one by one, Ogita addressing them all\nas \u201cSan\u201d (Miss or Mr.), even if they could only toddle, and I gave\nthem their serious presents with their names, written in Japanese\nand English, tied on with red ribbon\u2014an attention which, as I was\nafterwards told, they appreciated greatly. It seemed to me that\nthey never would end; their size varied from a wee mite who could\nnot carry its own toys to a tall, handsome student of sixteen, or a\ngorgeous young lady in green and mauve crape, and a head that must\nhave taken the best part of the day to dress.\n\nIn one thing they were all alike; their manners were perfect. There\nwas no pushing or grasping, no glances of envy at what other children\nreceived, no false shyness in their sweet, happy way of expressing\ntheir thanks. I was puzzled by one thing about the children: although\nwe kept giving them sweets and oranges off the tree, every time I\nlooked around the big circle all were empty-handed again, and it\nreally seemed as if they must have swallowed the gifts, gold paper\nand ribbon and all. But at last I noticed that their square, hanging\nsleeves began to have a strange, lumpy appearance, like a conjurers\nwaistcoat just before he produces twenty-four bowls of live goldfish\nfrom his internal economy; and then I understood that the plunder was\nat once dropped into these great sleeves, so as to leave hands free\nfor anything else that Okusama might think good to bestow. One little\nlady, O\u2019Haru San, aged three, got so overloaded with goodies and\ntoys that they kept rolling out of her sleeves, to the great delight\nof the Brown Ambassador dachshund, Tip, who pounced on them like\nlightning, and was also convicted of nibbling at cakes on the lower\nbranches of the tree.\n\nThe bigger children would not take second editions of presents, and\nanswered, \u201cHonorable thanks, I have!\u201d if offered more than they\nthought their share; but babies are babies all the world over! When\nthe distribution was finished at last, I got a Japanese gentleman\nto tell them the story of Christmas, the children\u2019s feast; and then\nthey came up one by one to say \u201c_Sayonara_\u201d (\u201cSince it must be,\u201d\nthe Japanese farewell), and \u201c_Arigato gozaimasu_\u201d (\u201cThe honorable\nthanks\u201d).\n\n\u201cCome back next year,\u201d I said; and then the last presents were given\nout\u2014beautiful lanterns, red, lighted, and hung on what Ogita calls\nbumboos, to light the guests home with. One tiny maiden refused to\ngo, and flung herself on the floor in a passion of weeping, saying\nthat Okusama\u2019s house was too beautiful to leave, and she would stay\nwith me always\u2014yes, she would! Only the sight of the lighted lantern,\nbobbing on a stick twice as long as herself, persuaded her to return\nto her own home in the servants\u2019 quarters. I stood on the step, the\nsame step where I had set the fireflies free one warm night last\nsummer, and watched the little people scatter over the lawns, and\ndisappear into the dark shrubberies, their round, red lights dancing\nand shifting as they went, just as if my fireflies had come back, on\nred wings this time, to light my little friends to bed.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The British Legation compound is the enclosure in which the\nofficial representatives of the English government in any Japanese\ncity live with their assistants, families, and servants.\n\n\n\n\nFrom Far Away\n\n\n    From far away we come to you.\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    To tell of great tidings, strange and true.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.\n        From far away we come to you,\n          To tell of great tidings, strange and true._\n\n    For as we wandered far and wide,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    What hap do you deem there should us betide?\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    Under a bent when the night was deep,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    There lay three shepherds, tending their sheep.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    \u201cO ye shepherds, what have ye seen,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    To stay your sorrow and heal your teen?\u201d\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    \u201cIn an ox stall this night we saw,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    A Babe and a maid without a flaw.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    \u201cThere was an old man there beside;\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n\n[Illustration: village and river]\n\n    His hair was white, and his hood was wide.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    \u201cAnd as we gazed this thing upon,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    Those twain knelt down to the little one.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    \u201cAnd a marvellous song we straight did hear,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    That slew our sorrow and healed our care.\u201d\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor._\n\n    News of a fair and a marvellous thing,\n      _The snow in the street, and the wind on the door_,\n    Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, we sing.\n      _Minstrels and maids, stand forth on the floor.\n        From far away we come to you,\n          To tell of great tidings, strange and true._\n\n\n\n\nLordings, listen to our Lay\n\n\n    Lordings, listen to our lay\u2014\n    We have come from far away\n        To seek Christmas;\n    In this mansion we are told\n    He his yearly feast doth hold:\n        \u2019Tis to-day!\n    May joy come from God above,\n    To all those who Christmas love.\n\n\n\n\nWhere the Christmas Toys Come From\n\n\nAlmost all the wooden toys come from Germany, where peasants in\nthe mountains of the Tyrol and Bavaria still make them by hand. A\nherd-boy on the hillside will see that his cattle are safely feeding\nin a narrow valley which they cannot leave without passing him, and\nthen he will sit on the grass or on a rock and whittle and whistle\nor jodel as the soft wood shapes itself in his fingers, through a\nlong summer day. And during the winter, while the snow lies deep on\nthe mountain paths, entire families give their time to making Noah\u2019s\narks, toy villages with stiff little green trees, toy furniture,\ncarved figures of all kinds. Anything which a man\u2019s knife can make\nfrom poplar or plane wood is carved during the long weeks when\noutdoor work is impossible. At one time whole German villages used to\nwork in their own homes on cheap wooden toys of all kinds. Nowadays,\nsince the invention of the machines by which the simpler forms are\nmade, most of the toy trades have been swept into the factories of\nGerman cities.\n\nToy reins, such as you see with tinkling sleigh-bells on them, may\nbe woven elsewhere in New England, but it is fairly certain that the\nbells at least were made in Connecticut, where the industry is a very\nold one, and where most of the sleigh-bells in the country have been\nmade, as well as cow-bells and the tiny tinkler on the tea-table.\nAnd, naturally, the state in which are so many clock factories\nproduces those toys which are made to go by a winding key.\n\nHundreds of thousands of tin trumpets, and other toy musical\ninstruments which used to be made in France and Germany, are now\nmade in this country, mainly in Pennsylvania and New York. It is\nfascinating to watch the making of them by machinery. Pull a handle\nhere! Click! down comes a frame and a long sheet of metal is cut\ninto pieces of the exact shape wanted. See! the frame on which the\nmetal rested is a moving belt bringing a fresh sheet of metal under\nthe stamps and at the same time carrying the cut pieces forward over\na row of steel cones where a set of clamps like steel jaws catches\neach separate bit. The clamps close once, nip! open, and each cone\npushes forward with a jerk into another which with one motion adds\na mouthpiece. What passes on now is a bent tube which needs only\na touch of solder to keep it closed, a few rings of paint to make\nit gay, and perhaps a curved handle, to be a very presentable toy\ntrumpet.\n\nDrums are almost all made in Massachusetts; marbles, the best of\nthem, come from Saxony; the old-fashioned kinds of music-boxes, some\nof them very elaborate and beautiful, still come from Switzerland.\nGlass ornaments for Christmas trees are made in Germany; many of the\ntinsel and cut-paper ornaments also come from N\u00fcremburg and other\nGerman cities which are the great toy markets of the world. In one\nFrench village near Paris almost all the bone dominoes have been made\nfor years; another section of France turns out nearly all the bone\nchessmen\u2014such figures as Alice found in the Looking-Glass country;\nand a quantity of the furry rabbits, silky-haired dogs, and woolly\nlambs on green-painted bellows which bleat _ba-a-a_, have been made\nby one Parisian family for many years. The old proprietor, his sons\nand daughters and even grandchildren, have lived and worked together\nat the very top of an old house in one of the side streets of the\ncity, from a time beyond the memory of all but few.\n\nAs for dolls\u2014the making of a Christmas doll\u2014that is another story.\n\n\n\n\nThe Making of a Christmas Doll\n\n\nDoes it seem to you that it would be a delightful business to make\nhundreds of thousands of dolls every year? H\u2019m! Does this huge kettle\nof bad-smelling mush make you think of the dainty, smiling dolls in\nthe toy-shop window? Dolly is made, though you would never guess it,\nof chopped up bits of old kid gloves and pieces of cardboard boiled\nto a pulp in a gum made from the horns of goats. And here is a man\nshovelling sawdust into a kettle half full of boiling water. Now he\nis turning the mass into a big mixing trough, adding one shovelful\nafter another of the gluey mush. The machinery creaks and turns and\ncuts and slaps as this mixture is kneaded into a composition pulp.\nNow he is carrying some of it in a hod, for all the world like sticky\nmortar, to a weighing table! Sweep! it is spread out in an even\nthickness. Clip! down come the knives which part it into the right\nquantities, and it is swiftly pressed and moulded to the shape\nof a body, an arm, or a leg. In one factory alone the parts of as\nmany as forty thousand dolls are thus made in one day, and the ugly,\ngreenish shapes set aside to harden. Another day they pass quickly\nunder the brushes in the painters\u2019 hands after which they have the\nmore familiar rosy pink color, and dolly can now be put together\nexcept for the head.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright, 1908, by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nDOLL-MAKING]\n\nOf these dolls the heads are to be of porcelain. Once for all, long\nago, some artist made the model of which many duplicate moulds stand\nready. Into these moulds liquid porcelain clay is poured; before it\nhardens the openings for the eyes are cut and tiny holes made by\nwhich it can be joined to a body. After the moulds are opened, as the\nrows and rows of little heads stand in metal trays, a painter comes\nby, covers them with a glaze-wash, tints the cheeks and outlines the\nbrows and lashes. Now into the oven goes the tray for hours of slow\nbaking. But even with the head sewed on we have but a sad-looking\ndolly, both blind and bald.\n\nIf all goes well, the eyes and the wig come next. The eyes are not\nmade in this factory at all. They come from Germany, and it would\nprobably give you a queer, scared feeling to see the making of them.\nLook into this long, dark room, and when your eyes are a little\nused to the strange shadowiness, you will see that down its sides\nthere are rows of tables, before each of which sits a woman with a\nblue-flame gas lamp in front of her. At little distances are retorts\nof glowing molten glass, and each woman dips her short glass tube\ninto the melted glass, and, keeping it soft by the help of that\nweird blue flame of the blowpipe jet, blows a little oblong globe\nwhich she colors white for the eyeball, and then upon it paints a\npupil of blue, brown, or black, as the doll-makers may have ordered.\nThe musical click which you hear all the time is the sharp stroke\nwhich breaks the finished and cooled eye from the glass rod, letting\nit drop into a box lined with cotton by her side. This boy coming\nout has been collecting them, and it makes us shiver to see those\nhundreds of eyes rolling uncannily at us from the bottom of his\nbasket. Come away!\n\nA wig for an inexpensive doll is an easy matter; the chosen strands\nof hair are laid along a double thread, which passes below one\nstrand and above the next. This thread makes the \u201cpart,\u201d and under\nit is stuck a bit of pasteboard by which the wig is fastened on. A\nquick-fingered French woman can turn out over a hundred dozen such\nwigs in a day. And with the wig dolly is made at last.\n\nHer clothes, of course, are a separate matter, just as yours are;\nthere are dolls\u2019 shoemakers, and dolls\u2019 dressmakers, and the\nelaborate completeness of dolly\u2019s outfit depends only upon the price\none is willing to pay.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nWIG-MAKING]\n\n\n\n\nIrina\u2019s Day on the Estates\n\n\nIrina is a Russian who answers promptly if you ask her what Christmas\nshe remembers best, \u201cThe one we spent on the estates.\u201d But that\nmay be because it was so unusual to be there at all in the winter.\nChristmas Eve is the great time in Russia, but Santa Claus does not\ncome until evening and the day before Christmas being a fast-day is\nusually somewhat depressing.\n\nOld Mashinka, who comes in to open the heavy, outer shutters, usually\nhas some lively gossip to tell while she lets in the light. Perhaps\nwolves slipped into the courtyard in the night and were fighting with\nthe watch-dogs; perhaps the snow has fallen again and is so deep that\nIvan and the stablemen have been out since daybreak cutting new paths\nto the kitchens, stables, and farm buildings, and breaking out the\nroads. Or perhaps Dmitri, who moved yesterday into a new house, took\nwith him a cock and hen, and this morning the cock refused to crow at\ndawn so that all the family are sure that evil fortune will enter the\nhouse with the new year. But on this morning she has no news to tell;\nshe moves silently and slowly, for it is a fast-day.\n\nEven Irina, who is always ready to run and jump, feels oppressed\nby the still, silent house. The dining room is desolate with its\nbreakfastless table, usually so cosy with its steaming samovar. As\na rule they are at this time in St. Petersburg where, though Irina\nstays quietly all day in an upper room, except when attending church\nservices, she can at least look out upon all the coming and going on\nthe river and the Nevski Prospect. But this year Andrei the steward\nis raising questions about the plans and locations for new stables\nand barns, so they are here where everything is depressingly still\nand silent, and upstairs her father and mother are praying in their\nrooms. So she puts on fur-lined boots, a long fur coat with deep\ncollar, and a fur cap which comes well down over the forehead, and\nonce outside the house finds herself in the thick forest. Further on\nshe comes to a frozen river, and fast-days and solemn services are\nall forgotten, for there are her two fur-wrapped brothers busy with\na little sledge. The red scarves of the boys are taken for guiding\nreins, and far along the ice for two hours or more she drives her\nteam. They have passed beyond the forest and out upon the steppes,\nwhere for miles ahead no trees are to be seen except where willows\nmark the curve of the river, or a few stunted saplings show black\nagainst the snow. On one side is a long, low sheepfold belonging to\nIrina\u2019s father, and out comes the shepherd with a clamor of dogs.\nHe has no chairs, so he throws down three heaps of clean straw for\nthe children to sit on; and he, too, forgets that it is a fast-day\nas he reaches cakes of dark brown bread from a shelf below the tiny\nsquare window, and pours for them cups of goats\u2019 milk. Black crust\nand all\u2014it goes quickly, and then they rest and stroke the half-tamed\nsheep that come to nibble the straw while the shepherd tells the\nchildren stories. He cannot read, to be sure, but when he was a\nboy his old grandmother told them to him. Perhaps, because it is the\nChristmas season, he tells them of the old woman whom the Russians\ncall Babouscka and the Italians Befana. Irina\u2019s favorite is one that\nwould remind you of Cinderella, although the fairy godmother is much\nmore like an old witch; and as the children start off for home they\nwonder a little fearfully if this forest is not very like the one in\nthe shepherd\u2019s story.\n\n[Illustration: three boys]\n\nOn arriving home they confess their sins\u2014only the little matter of\nthe rye bread is really forgotten. Everybody is busy; the cook is\ngetting the supper, and father in the drawing-room has the door\nlocked. Some one has said there will be no Christmas tree, for\nthere are no shops here; but why was mother away for four days, and\nwhy did that pedler who came by a few days ago stay so long? Irina\nfinds a book, curls up on a rug, and tries to read, but she does\nnot understand Kryloff\u2019s \u201cFables\u201d very well; the day out-doors has\nmade her drowsy and she does not quite know what becomes of the time\nuntil her brothers shake her a little, the clock rings out \u201cCuckoo\u201d\nsix times, and then open comes the door. There _is_ a Christmas\ntree after all, a tall one with a shining star at the top. Hundreds\nof burning candles light it up, and tiny wax figures dance among\nhanging oranges. At the foot of the tree lie four or five heaps of\nparcels,\u2014ah, then, mother _was_ shopping; no one is forgotten and\nevery one is merry. Then comes Pavel to say that supper is ready.\nBut the white cloth looks very different from usual; it is not laid\nsmoothly at all. Underneath it has been spread a layer of hay, and\neach one as he sits down pulls out a straw. Irina gives a cry of joy:\nher piece is quite complete, with its yellow, dried flower\u2014which\nshows that she will be lucky all the next year.\n\nThere is no meat at this Christmas Eve supper, only fish dishes and\nthe special _Kostya_, or puddings which belong to the season very\nmuch as do mince pie and plum pudding in England. Of these puddings\nthere are two kinds,\u2014the white _Kostya_, made of rice, almonds, and\nraisins, and the black _Kostya_, made of honey, barley, and walnuts.\n\nDuring supper the children from the village school which Irina\u2019s\nmother has started come and sing carols outside the window until\nPavel with a handful of coins tells them to be off. Other young\nvillagers follow to acknowledge their gifts with more singing. Lastly\ncomes the church choir, who are invited in to supper after Irina and\nher brothers have returned to the tree and their new toys. For each\nthere is a gift and from each a torrent of good wishes.\n\nThis practice of carol singing is probably in its origin akin to\nthe religious processions which one may see on any holy day in\nall the villages of Greece, the Balkan provinces, and up through\nRussia,\u2014wherever, in fact, the Greek church has diverted into the\nservice of religion the old customs of the people. For centuries back\nand probably long before the Christian era, it was the practice of\nthe young people here and elsewhere to gather into bands and go about\nthe country roads at this time of year singing hymns which were\nat first, no doubt, songs of rejoicing that the shortest days were\nover and the sun returning to the world again. Nowadays the songs\nare chants or carols, and the village boys are proud to carry in\nreligious processions pictures of the saints and the banners of the\nchurch.\n\n\n\n\nA Visit from St. Nicholas\n\n\n    \u2019Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house\n    Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;\n    The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,\n    In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;\n    The children were nestled all snug in their beds,\n    While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;\n    And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,\n    Had just settled our brains for a long winter\u2019s nap\u2014\n    When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,\n    I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.\n    Away to the window I flew like a flash,\n    Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.\n    The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow\n    Gave a lustre of midday to objects below;\n    When what to my wondering eyes should appear,\n    But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,\n    With a little old driver so lively and quick\n    I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!\n    More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,\n    And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name:\n    \u201cNow, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!\n    On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!\n    To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!\n    Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!\u201d\n    As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,\n    When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,\n    So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,\n    With the sleigh full of toys\u2014and St. Nicholas, too.\n    And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof,\n    The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.\n    As I drew in my head, and turning around,\n    Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.\n    He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,\n    And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;\n    A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,\n    And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.\n    His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!\n    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;\n    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,\n    And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.\n    The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,\n    And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.\n    He had a broad face and a little round belly\n    That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.\n    He was chubby and plump\u2014a right jolly old elf;\n    And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.\n    A wink of his eye and a twist of his head\n    Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nA CHRISTMAS TREE AT THE IMMIGRANT STATION, NEW YORK]\n\n    He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,\n    And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,\n    And laying his finger aside of his nose,\n    And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.\n    He sprang in his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,\n    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;\n    But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight:\n    \u201cHappy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nThe Cratchits\u2019 Christmas Dinner\n\n\nYou might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered\nphenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course; and in\ntruth, it was something like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made\nthe gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot;\nMaster Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda\nsweetened up the apple sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took\nTiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young\nCratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and\nmounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths,\nlest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be\nhelped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was\nsucceeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly\nall along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;\nbut when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued\nforth, one murmur of delight arose all around the board, and even\nTiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with\nthe handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!\n\nThere never was such a goose. Bob said he didn\u2019t believe there\never was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and\ncheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by the\napple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for\nthe whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight\n(surveying one small atom of a bone on the dish), they hadn\u2019t ate it\nall at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits\nin particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But\nnow, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the\nroom alone\u2014too nervous to bear witnesses\u2014to take the pudding up and\nbring it in.\n\nSuppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in\nturning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the\nback yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose; a\nsupposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts\nof horrors were supposed.\n\nHallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper.\nA smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an\neating-house and a pastry cook\u2019s next door to each other, with a\nlaundress next door to that! That was the pudding. In half a minute\nMrs. Cratchit entered, flushed, but smiling proudly, with the pudding\nlike a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of\nhalf-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly\nstuck into the top.\n\nOh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly, too, that he\nregarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since\ntheir marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her\nmind she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of\nflour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or\nthought it was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would\nhave been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to\nhint at such a thing. At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was\ncleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the\njug being tasted and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put\nupon the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all\nthe Cratchit family drew round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called\na circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit\u2019s elbow stood the\nfamily display of glass\u2014two tumblers and a custard-cup without a\nhandle.\n\nThese held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden\ngoblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks,\nwhile the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then\nBob proposed:\n\n\u201cA merry Christmas to all, my dears. God bless us!\u201d\n\nWhich all the family re\u00ebchoed.\n\n\u201cGod bless us every one!\u201d said Tiny Tim the last of all.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nAfter the Christmas Dinner\n\n\nWhen dinner had had time to settle and all the kitchen work was done,\nFather took his seat at the end of the long table, with all the\nhousehold gathered about, the servants included and the baby without\nfail, and read the story of The Child: \u201cAnd it came to pass in those\ndays,\u201d while Mother hushed the baby. Then we sang together \u201cA Child\nis Born in Bethlehem,\u201d which was the simplest of our hymns, and also\nthe one we children loved best, for it told of how in heaven we were\nto walk to church\n\n  \u201cOn sky-blue carpets, star-bedeckt,\u201d\n\nwhich was a great comfort. Children love beautiful things, and we had\nfew of them. The great and precious treasure in our house was the\nrag carpet in the spare room, which we were allowed to enter only on\nfestive occasions such as Christmas. It had an orange streak in it\nwhich I can see to this day. Whenever I come across one that even\nremotely suggests it, it gives me yet a kind of solemn feeling. We\nhad no piano,\u2014that was a luxury in those days,\u2014and Father was not\na singer, but he led on bravely with his tremulous bass and we all\njoined in, Ane the cook and Maria the housemaid furtively wiping\ntheir eyes with their aprons, for they were good and pious folk and\nthis was their Christmas service. So we sang the ten verses to end,\nwith their refrain \u201cHallelujah! hallelujah!\u201d that always seemed to me\nto open the very gates of Yule.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cWE JOINED HANDS AND DANCED AROUND THE TREE\u201d]\n\nAnd it did, literally; for when the last hallelujah died away, the\ndoor of the spare room was flung wide and there stood the Christmas\ntree, all shining lights, and the baby was borne in, wide-eyed, to\nbe the first, as was proper; for was not this The Child\u2019s holiday?\nUnconsciously we all gave way to those who were nearest Him, who had\nmost recently come from His presence, and were therefore in closest\ntouch with the spirit of the holiday. So, when we joined hands and\ndanced around the tree, Father held the baby, and we laughed and were\nhappy as the little one crowed his joy and stretched the tiny arms\ntoward the light.\n\n\n\n\nHang up the Baby\u2019s Stocking\n\n\n    Hang up the baby\u2019s stocking:\n      Be sure you don\u2019t forget;\n    The dear little dimpled darling!\n      She ne\u2019er saw Christmas yet;\n    But I\u2019ve told her all about it,\n      And she opened her big blue eyes;\n    And I\u2019m sure she understood it\u2014\n      She looked so funny and wise.\n\n    Dear! what a tiny stocking!\n      It doesn\u2019t take much to hold\n    Such little pink toes as baby\u2019s\n      Away from the frost and cold;\n    But then for the baby\u2019s Christmas\n      It will never do at all;\n    Why, Santa wouldn\u2019t be looking\n      For anything half so small.\n\n    I know what will do for the baby.\n      I\u2019ve thought of the very best plan:\n    I\u2019ll borrow a stocking of grandma,\n      The longest that ever I can;\n    And you\u2019ll hang it by mine, dear mother,\n      Right here in the corner, so!\n    And write a letter to Santa,\n      And fasten it on the toe.\n\n    Write, \u201cThis is the baby\u2019s stocking\n      That hangs in the corner here;\n    You never have seen her, Santa,\n      For she only came this year;\n    But she\u2019s just the blessedest baby!\n      And now before you go,\n    Just cram her stocking with goodies,\n      From the top clean down to the toe.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nA German Christmas\n\n\nIn Germany a little girl begins to think about Christmas almost as\nsoon as she gets back from a summer holiday, for it is still very\nmuch the custom there to make something yourself for those you love\nbest, and German girls learn while they are still little to embroider\nbeautifully all kinds of articles for household use,\u2014a monogram\non a fine handkerchief, or spray of flowers on a bit of linen\nto wear at the neck. An older girl makes such things as a canvas\ntraveller\u2019s-case, or a set of shoe-bags, embroiders a sofa-cushion\nor knits a silk necktie. Mothers and aunts are more likely to make\nsoberly useful gifts of stockings, underclothing, dresses; nothing is\nthought out-of-place. But every one must give to every one else. That\nis _law_. And every one aims to keep as a secret what she is making;\nit must be hidden at least from the one for whom it is intended,\nso there is quite an air of \u201cI know something nice, but I cannot\ntell it,\u201d about a German household through all the weeks before the\nholiday.\n\nAbout a fortnight before Christmas the fair begins which Mrs.\nSidgwick tells us is to be seen \u201cin any one of the old German cities\nin the hill country, when the streets and the open places are covered\nwith crisp clean snow, and the mountains are white with it, and the\nmoon shines on the ancient houses, and the tinkle of sledge bells\nreaches you when you escape from the din of the market, and look down\nat the bustle of it from some silent place, a high window, perhaps,\nor the high empty steps leading into the cathedral. The air is cold\nand still, and heavy with the scent of the Christmas trees brought\nfrom the forest for the pleasure of the children. Day by day you\nsee the rows of them growing thinner, and if you go to the market\non Christmas Eve itself you will find only a few trees left out in\nthe cold. The market is empty, the peasants are harnessing their\nhorses or their oxen, the women are packing up their unsold goods.\nIn every home in the city one of the trees that scented the open air\nabout a week ago is shining now with lights and little gilded nuts\nand apples, and is helping to make that Christmas smell, all compact\nof the pine forest, wax candles, cakes, and painted toys, you must\nassociate so long as you live with Christmas in Germany.\u201d\n\nWe have Christmas trees in plenty, but to the German mind we have\nthem all wrong. In the first place, their trees are small, and every\none, from the Emperor down to the poorest laborer, has a tree.\nBut he has it at home, on Christmas Eve if he can, less often on\nChristmas Day, and only sometimes on the day after, which they call\nthe Second Christmas Day. A German family never invites a _party_ to\nits Christmas tree, only relatives or intimate friends. As a rule,\nthere is one tree, fixed on a small stand in the centre of a large\nsquare table covered with a snow-white cloth, and around the tree\nthe presents are arranged, those for each person in a separate pile.\nThe tree is lighted for beauty, and is decorated with ornaments of\nglass and tinsel, sweetmeats, apples, gilded nuts, and a few very\nsmall toys. Some of the sweetmeats made for German trees are very\nelaborate. There are _Kringeln_, transparent sugar candies twisted\nin figure eights or circles, so that they easily hang on. There are\nsugar candy animals of every shape and color; and here and there a\nfascinating scene in colored sugar on a white background, a sportsman\nin a red coat, perhaps, pointing his gun at an enormous rabbit that\nsits up almost touching the end of the gun-barrel. The celebrated\n_L\u00fcbecker Marzipan_ (a kind of almond paste which you have tasted,\nmaybe, on bride-cake) imitates all kinds of fruit and vegetables so\nwell that they can easily be mistaken for real.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nDRESSING DOLLS IN GERMANY FOR AMERICAN CHRISTMAS TREES]\n\nThe trees are set in the front rooms and the curtains are drawn up to\ngive any passer-by a glimpse of their beauty. The family gathers in\nthe room behind, sometimes a carol or hymn is sung, and at its end\nsuddenly the parlor doors fly back, showing the little green tree all\nalight and the piles of presents for every one. Then comes a scramble\nand search for one\u2019s own pile,\u2014a long silence while parcels are\nopened breathlessly. Such a handshaking and embracing and thanking as\nfollows!\n\nIn some families where there are several children and plenty of\nmoney, each person may have a tree of his own, and at any rate will\nhave his own table covered with presents and things to eat. Of such a\nfamily the mother writes:\u2014\n\nEvery time the three babies go into the garden they expect to meet\nthe Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They firmly believe\nthat it is thus their presents are brought, and it is such a charming\nidea that Christmas would be worth celebrating for its sake alone.\n\nThe library is uninhabitable for several days before and after, as\nit is there that we have the trees and presents. All down one side\nare the trees, and the other three sides are lined with tables, a\nseparate one for each person in the house. When trees are lighted,\nand stand in their radiance shining down on the happy faces, I forget\nall the trouble it has been, and the number of times I have had to\nrun up and down stairs, and the various aches in head and feet, and\nenjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby is ushered in,\nthen the others and ourselves according to age, then the servants,\nthen come the head inspector and his family, and other inspectors\nfrom the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and\nsecretaries, and then all the children, troops and troops of them\u2014the\nbig ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying the babies\nin their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. As many as can\nget in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or three carols;\nthen they are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, making\nroom for the next batch. My three babies sung lustily, too, whether\nthey happened to know what was being sung or not....\n\nWhen they came to say good night they were all very pale and subdued.\nThe April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her,\nwhich she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but\nshe was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me\nabsently, and went away, only the April baby glancing at the trees as\nshe passed and making them a courtesy.\n\n\u201cGood-by, trees,\u201d I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese\ndoll bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blase fashion.\n\u201cYou\u2019ll never see such trees again,\u201d she told him, giving him a\nvindictive shake, \u201cfor you\u2019ll be brokened long before next time.\u201d\n\nShe went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something.\n\n\u201cThank the Christkind so much, Mummy, won\u2019t you, for all the lovely\nthings He brought us. I suppose you\u2019re writing to Him now, isn\u2019t\nyou?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCrowded Out\n\n\n    Nobody ain\u2019t Christmas shoppin\u2019\n        Fur his stockin\u2019,\n    Nobody ain\u2019t cotch no turkey,\n    Nobody ain\u2019t bake no pie.\n    Nobody\u2019s laid nuthin\u2019 by;\n    Santa Claus don\u2019t cut no figger\n    Fur his mammy\u2019s little nigger.\n\n    Seems lak everybody\u2019s rushin\u2019\n        An\u2019 er crushin\u2019;\n    Crowdin\u2019 shops an\u2019 jammin\u2019 trolleys,\n    Buyin\u2019 shoes an\u2019 shirts an\u2019 toys\n    Fur de white folks\u2019 girls an\u2019 boys;\n    But no hobby-horse ain\u2019t rockin\u2019\n    Fur his little wore-out stockin\u2019.\n\n    He ain\u2019t quar\u2019lin\u2019, recollec\u2019,\n        He don\u2019t spec\n    Nuthin\u2019\u2014it\u2019s his not expectin\u2019\n    Makes his mammy wish\u2014O Laws!\u2014\n    Fur er nigger Santy Claus,\n    Totin\u2019 jus\u2019 er toy balloon\n    Fur his mammy\u2019s little coon.\n\n\n\n\nAn English \u201cAdoration\u201d\n\n\nArt in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was far more closely\nconnected with the church than it is to-day. The most beautiful\nbuildings were those of the church, and the art of painting was soon\ncalled upon for their decoration. Books at that time were rare and\ncostly, and the stories of the saints whose \u201cholydays\u201d were times\nof festivity for the people, were mostly handed down by word of\nmouth, and often with a good deal of confusion of times and people.\nAnd naturally, when the rich men of 1300 called in a workman to\ndecorate a church or to paint a panel which could be moved from one\nbuilding to another, they liked to see on their walls pictures of\ntheir favorite saints and heroes, pictures which reminded them of the\nstories they could not read. It made no difference to them if saint\nand hero and king lived hundreds of years apart.\n\nThere is one such picture, one of the oldest in England, so old that\nno one knows who painted it, which is interesting because it is so\neasy to see that the king who ordered it painted was thinking of the\nold Christmas story of the Adoration of the Magi, who were always\nthought of in the Middle Ages as being kings. The picture is painted\non two wooden panels, joined with hinges so that it can be closed,\nand is in bright colors against a background of gold.\n\n[Illustration: two pictures]\n\nThe English king who probably ordered it to celebrate his coronation\nwas Richard II. of England, son of the famous Black Prince. One\nlikes to think that although he thought of himself as one of a long\nline of kings ruling by divine right, whom it was natural to see\nsurrounded by persons royal and divine, yet he wished to be painted\nnot in the act of receiving but of giving homage. After all, in spite\nof the king\u2019s crown and the robe of state, too big for a child\u2019s\nfigure, he was only a boy barely eleven, and whatever he became\nlater here he is shown offering his kingdom to the Holy Child in His\nMother\u2019s arms.\n\nThere was a special reason for Richard\u2019s having his picture resemble\npictures of the Adoration of the Magi for the Day of the Kings,\nJanuary 6, was not only his own birthday, but also the day upon which\nhe was crowned. And an account of his coronation tells us that after\nthe ceremony he made an offering at the Shrine of Our Lady at Pewe,\nnearby, of \u201celeven angels,\u201d one for each year of his young life.\nExactly what these eleven angels were no one now knows; they may have\nbeen gold coins with an angel stamped upon them, or they may have\nbeen small images. But perhaps he remembered his eleven years and\nthis offering when he told the painter to surround Mother Mary with\nthe eleven angels in sapphire blue whom you see in the picture. One\nsees at least that they are _his_ angels, for each wears his special\nbadge, the Jewel of the White Hart, and the Collar of Broom-pods.\nAlmost all the Magi pictures represent one of the kings as kneeling,\nwith the two others standing behind him, and one can imagine Richard\nboyishly choosing the other two kings. He was crowned in Westminster\nAbbey, so it is natural enough that one of them should be Edward\nthe Confessor who founded the Abbey; the other, holding an arrow, is\nSt. Edmund, an early king of England who is said to have been shot\nto death with arrows by the Danes, because he refused to abandon\nChristianity. Joseph, too, is a customary figure in paintings of the\nAdoration, but cannot you hear the boy king saying, \u201cNo, I do not\nwant St. Joseph; my father died in midsummer so I really became king\nabout the time of St. John\u2019s Day, if I _am_ crowned at Epiphany;\nso I will have St. John with a lamb and Edward the Confessor; and\nEdward shall hold a ring?\u201d There is a pretty story that St. John the\nEvangelist, wandering in the disguise of a beggar, asked alms of King\nEdward the Confessor; and, that the king, rather than refuse a poor\nman, gave him a ring from his finger, because he had no money with\nhim. And it would be so like a boy not to care that the two St. Johns\nwere not at all the same. That which mattered is that one of the\nangels was holding toward the Holy Child\u2019s reaching hands the banner\nof England as the gift of the kneeling boy.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Children\u2019s Own Saint\n\n\nWhat a most convenient thing it is that good St. Nicholas does not\nhave to keep the Christmas holiday in all the world at once! He has\nbeen the children\u2019s own saint, you know, ever since he ceased to be\na bishop in far-away Asia Minor. The oldest story we hear of him is\nthat once three little boys on their way to school at Athens stopped\nover night at an inn, of which the innkeeper was also a butcher, and\na robber besides. This wicked man killed the boys in the night and\nthrew their bodies into his salting tub. But the very next morning\nthe saint walked in and asked for them, for though he was only\nBishop Nicholas then, he knew all about it in some wonderful way.\nThe trembling butcher took him out to the pork barrel; the saint\nstruck the edge of it sharply with his staff and called the boys by\nname. Out jumped the three little pickles all alive, and of course\nthe wicked butcher was punished and Nicholas became the school-boys\u2019\nsaint.\n\nThere is also a story that one night Bishop Nicholas wished to\ncarry a purse of gold to a worthy nobleman who was so proud and so\nunwilling to have his poverty noticed that it was a difficult matter\nto make the gift without hurting his feelings. When the house was\nreached the old noble was to be seen through the window fast asleep\nby the fire, and without disturbing him good St. Nicholas climbed\nto the top of the wide chimney and dropped the purse, intending it\nto fall on the hearth. But as the old man\u2019s daughter had hung her\nfather\u2019s stockings by the fire to dry, it chanced to fall into one of\nthem. There it was found the next day and most opportunely provided\na marriage portion for the oldest daughter. The story goes on to say\nthat after that whenever one of the noble\u2019s daughters was of marrying\nage he hung up a stocking,\u2014and St. Nicholas\u2019s gift was never lacking.\n\nThey say that all this happened early in December, and in some\ncountries December 6 is the great day for the children. In Holland,\non St. Nicholas Eve, December 5, the children go out with their\nparents to see the brilliantly decorated shops, and in the doorways\nof many of them stands the saint, gorgeously dressed and handing to\nevery child who passes a tiny toy or a sweet. No wonder the good\nsaint must needs go to the seashore for a day before his next heavy\njob of being Santa Claus to all America on the twenty-fifth,\u2014to say\nnothing of merry England!\n\nAt any rate, we find that in a certain seaport of southern Italy it\nis the sailors\u2019 custom on December 6 to take the image of the saint\nfrom the beautiful church of St. Nicholas and, with a long procession\nof boats, carry it far out to sea. Toward nightfall they return and\nin the glory of the gold and crimson sunset are met on landing by\nall the townspeople. Hundreds of quaintly dressed pilgrims from the\ncountry round join the crowd that welcomes the home-coming saint with\nsongs, bonfires, and torches, and brings him back to his own place.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, New York_\n\nAN AMERICAN CHRISTMAS TREE]\n\nHis next appearance is in those countries where the Greek Church is\nthe national religion. Their Day of St. Nicholas, which is December 6\nelsewhere, comes upon what we should call December 19, and the saint\nis supposed to bring the winter with him. On the frozen river by\nPeter\u2019s city it is celebrated with a skating and sleighing carnival.\nLines of track are laid down on the ice like small-sized street-car\nlines. Tiny cars run here and there along them, back and forth from\nthe smooth ice-fields roped off for sleigh races or skating contests.\nPerhaps it was in that cold country he found the high cap, the furs,\nand the coat he wears for his hard work of chimney scrambling and\nrunning the reindeer express on the Christmas Eve we know.\n\nOnce more after his strenuous American holiday week is over the\nhard-worked saint appears again. From the little whitewashed villages\nof Greece north to ice-bound Archangel and east even to Vladivostok\nthe saint swings wearily on thousands of wax-lighted Christmas trees\n(their Christmas Eve comes, you must remember, thirteen days after\nours). But he is a sadly wasted saint by this time\u2014a mere waxen image\na few inches long\u2014able only to dance a little at the tip of a branch\nof a Christmas tree, and that is all he is asked to do. But in some\nhouses you would find him with a queer cotton tassel in the top of\nhis cap, and what happens then is this: some boy or girl comes by,\ntouches his cotton tassel into flame from a lighted taper, and he\nburns and melts and grows shorter as if he were just an ordinary wax\ncandle until he is all gone.\n\nBut in spite of that, in the next December, when the little children\nin Holland beg their mothers to take them out to see the lighted\nshops, there he is again with his bag of sweets. And if you want to\nknow what happens to him after that you will only have to read this\nstory over again.\n\n\n\n\nThe Befana Fair in Rome\n\n\nIn Rome the season of making gifts corresponding to our Christmas\ncomes twelve days later, and the gift-bringer would not be called\nSanta Claus or Saint Nicholas, but Befana, a gruff little old woman.\nPerhaps she is in some way connected with the old woman of whom the\nlegend is told that she was sweeping out her house when the Three\nKings rode by with gifts for the infant Christ. \u201cCome,\u201d they said,\n\u201cand see the _Bambin Ges\u00f9_.\u201d She said she would when she had finished\nher sweeping. But though she took her gifts and started, she was too\nlate then, of course, so she gave the presents to good children and\nbits of charcoal to those who had been naughty. The name is really a\nshort form of Epifania, the Feast of Epiphany, and it is given both\nto the gift-bringer and to one of the most extraordinary popular\nfestivals ever invented to amuse children and to turn grown people\ninto children. It is a night fair opened every Eve of Epiphany in the\ngreat square called Piazza Navona, where long, long ago one of the\nRoman emperors, Domitian, once had his race-course. In the days just\nafter Christmas workmen begin to bring out from queer underground\nstorerooms all the lumber and other material needed for setting up\nbooths and decorating the square for the Befana. From year to year it\nlies somewhere, ready for use at a moment\u2019s notice, and when needed\nit is suddenly produced without confusion, marked and numbered, all\nready to be put together and regilded, or repainted, or hung with\nacres of bright-colored draperies. The Romans are masters of the\nart of managing public displays and change the empty, windy square\nas if by magic suddenly into a great oval street of booths enclosing\nthe whole circus-shaped space. At dark on the Eve of the Epiphany\nthe Befana begins. The hundreds of booths are choked with toys, and\ngleam with thousands of little lights. In the open spaces the moving\ncrowd of children, parents, and grandparents grows closer and closer\nbetween sunset and midnight, and every one is splitting the air with\nsome sort of whistle, horn, or trumpet. Noise is the chief need of\na successful Befana, and the first thing every one buys who comes\nmust be a tin horn or one of the grotesque little figures made of\npainted clay, always with a whistle in some part of it. Their very\nugliness is attractive, and they are daubed with a kind of bright\nand harmless paint of which every Roman child remembers the taste\nso long as he lives. Round and round the crowd moves in a stream of\nyoung, old, and middle-aged, all blowing horns and whistles with a\nridiculously solemn persistency, bent on making all the noise it is\npossible to get out of one small toy. Now and then they stop to buy\nat some booth, or to greet a friend; one group attacks another with a\nspecially strong burst of noise almost too much to stand when shrill\nwhistles are brought close to ears, and there are shouts of laughter\nwhen the party which can make the most hideous noise drives off the\nother half deaf from the din.\n\nIn one long-remembered year, in the old English Protestant church\nabout a mile away, the organ was rebuilt and the organist, a\npractical Anglo-Saxon, had the useless old pipes sold at the night\nfair for the benefit of the church. The braying of the high cracked\nreeds was frightful and never to be forgotten.\n\nThousands upon thousands of people throng the square; even under the\nclear winter sky it is not cold; the flaring, smoking, wind-blown\ntorches throw strange shadows down upon the old women who behind\nthe booths sit warming their skinny hands over earthen pots of\nglowing coals. They look on without a smile on their wrinkled faces\nwhile their sons and daughters sell little old women of clay, the\nvery images of their mothers, to passing customers. And there is no\nconfusion, no accident, no trouble, there are no drunken men and no\npickpockets. But Romans are not like other people.\n\n\n\n\nThe Golden Carol\n\n  (Of Melchior, Balthazar, and Gaspar, the Three Kings.)\n\n\n    We saw the light shine out a-far,\n        On Christmas in the morning,\n    And straight we knew Christ\u2019s Star it was,\n    Bright beaming in the morning.\n    Then did we fall on bended knee,\n    On Christmas in the morning,\n    And prais\u2019d the Lord, who\u2019d let us see\n    His glory at its dawning.\n\n    Oh! ever thought be of His Name,\n        On Christmas in the morning,\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Memling_\n\nTHE ADORATION OF THE MAGI]\n\n    Who bore for us both grief and shame,\n        Afflictions sharpest scorning.\n    And may we die (when death shall come),\n        On Christmas in the morning,\n    And see in heav\u2019n, our glorious home,\n        The Star of Christmas morning.\n\n\n\n\nBabouscka\n\n\nIt was the night the dear Christ Child came to Bethlehem. In a\ncountry far away from Him, an old, old woman named Babouscka sat\nin her snug little house by her warm fire. The wind was drifting\nthe snow outside and howling down the chimney, but it only made\nBabouscka\u2019s fire burn more brightly.\n\n\u201cHow glad I am that I may stay indoors!\u201d said Babouscka, holding her\nhands out to the bright blaze.\n\nBut suddenly she heard a loud rap at her door. She opened it, and her\ncandle shone on three old men standing outside in the snow. Their\nbeards were as white as the snow, and so long that they reached the\nground. Their eyes shone kindly in the light of Babouscka\u2019s candle,\nand their arms were full of precious things\u2014boxes of jewels, and\nsweet-smelling oils, and ointments.\n\n\u201cWe have travelled far, Babouscka,\u201d they said, \u201cand we stop to tell\nyou of the Baby Prince born this night in Bethlehem. He comes to\nrule the world and teach all men to be loving and true. We carry Him\ngifts. Come with us, Babouscka!\u201d\n\nBut Babouscka looked at the driving snow, and then inside at her cozy\nroom and the crackling fire. \u201cIt is too late for me to go with you,\ngood sirs,\u201d she said, \u201cthe weather is too cold.\u201d She went inside\nagain and shut the door, and the old men journeyed on to Bethlehem\nwithout her. But as Babouscka sat by her fire, rocking, she began to\nthink about the little Christ Child, for she loved all babies.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow I will go to find Him,\u201d she said; \u201cto-morrow, when it is\nlight, and I will carry Him some toys.\u201d\n\nSo when it was morning Babouscka put on her long cloak, and took her\nstaff, and filled her basket with the pretty things a baby would\nlike, gold balls, and wooden toys, and strings of silver cobwebs\u2014and\nshe set out to find the Christ Child.\n\nBut, oh! Babouscka had forgotten to ask the three old men the road to\nBethlehem, and they had travelled so far through the night that she\ncould not overtake them. Up and down the roads she hurried, through\nwoods and fields and towns, saying to whomsoever she met: \u201cI go to\nfind the Christ Child. Where does He lie? I bring some pretty toys\nfor His sake.\u201d\n\nBut no one could tell her the way to go, and they all said, \u201cFarther\non, Babouscka, farther on.\u201d So she travelled on, and on, and on for\nyears and years\u2014but she never found the little Christ Child.\n\nThey say that old Babouscka is travelling still, looking for Him.\nWhen it comes Christmas Eve, and the children are lying fast asleep,\nBabouscka comes softly through the snowy fields and towns, wrapped in\nher long cloak and carrying her basket on her arm. With her staff\nshe raps gently at the doors and goes inside and holds her candle\nclose to the little children\u2019s faces.\n\n\u201cIs He here?\u201d she asks. \u201cIs the little Christ Child here?\u201d And then\nshe turns sorrowfully away again, crying, \u201cFarther on, farther on.\u201d\nBut before she leaves she takes a toy from her basket and lays it\nbeside the pillow for a Christmas gift. \u201cFor His sake,\u201d she says\nsoftly and then hurries on through the years and forever in search of\nthe little Christ Child.\n\n\n\n\nThe Three Kings\n\n\nIf you had been a child in Provence when Mistral was a boy, you\nmight perhaps have joined the excited party of curly-headed boys and\nfair-haired girls in hoods and clacking wooden shoes who went with\nhim to meet the Three Kings, the Wise Men from the East, coming to\nworship the Holy Child on the night before Epiphany. Mistral told of\nit long afterwards in this way:\u2014\n\nWith hearts beating and eyes bright we started forth on the road to\nArles, bearing our gifts of welcome, cakes for the Kings, figs for\nthe boy pages, sweet hay for the tired camels. The wind blew cold,\nthe robin and wren hopped shivering in the branches of the leafless\ntrees. The fields were empty except for perhaps an old woman picking\nup sticks, or a ragged snail-gatherer under the hedge.\n\n\u201cWhere are you going so late, my little ones?\u201d some one would ask.\n\n\u201cWe go to meet the Kings,\u201d we said, singing and laughing, sliding and\nrunning along the white, wind-swept road. But the daylight faded, the\nblack, pointed cypress trees hid the bell-tower of Maillane, and the\nlong, white road stretched away empty.... Then we met a shepherd, his\nlong, brown cloak held tight around him.\n\n\u201cHave you seen the Kings? Are they still a long way off?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! the Kings! You should see them soon. They are not so far away.\u201d\n\nThen we set off running again, with our gifts for the Kings and\nthe pages, and handfuls of hay for the camels. The bravest of us\nflagged a little as a great cloud over the mountain hid the sun, when\nsuddenly a flash of golden splendor and a glory of yellow and crimson\nshone just where the white road curved from behind the mountain.\n\n\u201cThe Kings! The Kings! See their mantles! See the banners! They are\ncoming.\u201d\n\nAnd so we stood amazed; but instead of growing brighter as if the\nKings were coming nearer, the glory faded with the sunset and we\nfound ourselves alone in the dark highway.\n\n\u201cWhich way did the Kings go?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have gone behind the mountain.\u201d\n\n[Illustration:\n\n  _Bouguereau_\n\nADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS]\n\nThe white owls hooted, the wind was chill, and night-shadows\nfrightened us; so close together with backward glances we hurried\ntoward the village again. The hay we threw away, but the cakes we\nhad brought to give the Kings and the figs for the boy pages\u2014they\nwere comforting. And at home our mothers asked us: \u201cWell, did you see\nthem?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly a long way off. They went behind the mountain.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what road did you take?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe road to Arles.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, my poor lambs\u2014but the Kings never come by that road. They come\nfrom the East\u2014you should have taken the Roman road. Ah, the beautiful\nsight when they entered Maillane! the banners and trumpets! the pages\nleading the camels! But what a show! Now they are gone to the church\nto offer their adoration. After supper you shall go and see them.\u201d\n\nSuppers were swallowed quickly, mine at my grandmother\u2019s, and then\nwe all ran to the church. Sure enough, high above the manger hung\nthe glittering star, and on bended knees before the Holy Child were\nthe Three Kings\u2014Gaspar, in a crimson cloak, with gifts of gold;\nMelchior, in yellow, offering incense; and Balthasar, in a mantle\nblue, presenting a vase of myrrh. How reverently we admired the gayly\ndressed pages who carried the Kings\u2019 long trains, and the great\ncamels whose heads and humps rose high above St. Joseph\u2019s ass and the\noxen!...\n\nMany a time since those days I have been on the Arles road at this\nseason when the robin and wren haunt the hawthorne hedges. The\nsnail-gatherer still searches under the hedge and the owls hoot in\nthe winter evening. But I see no more in the glory of the sunset\nclouds the banners of the Kings.\n\n\u201cWhich way did they go, the Kings?\u201d\n\n\u201cBehind the mountain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nChristmas Peace\n\n\nThat sweetly prophetic evening silence, before the great feast of\nGood-Will, does not come over everything each year, even in a lonely\ncottage on an abandoned farm in Connecticut, than which you cannot\npossibly imagine anything more silent or more remote from the noise\nof the world. Sometimes it rains in torrents just on that night,\nsometimes it blows a raging gale that twists the leafless birches and\nelms and hickory trees like dry grass and bends the dark firs and\nspruces as if they were feathers, and you can hardly be heard unless\nyou shout, for the howling and screaming and whistling of the blast.\n\nBut now and then, once in four or five years perhaps, the feathery\nsnow lies a foot deep, fresh-fallen, on the still country side and\nin the woods; and the waxing moon sheds her large light on all,\nand Nature holds her breath to wait for the happy day and tries to\nsleep, but cannot from sheer happiness and peace. Indoors, the fire\nis glowing on the wide hearth, a great bed of coals that will last\nall night and be enough, because it is not bitter weather, but only\ncold and clear and still, as it should be; or if there is only a poor\nstove, the iron door is open and a comfortable, cheery red light\nshines out from within upon the battered iron plate and the wooden\nfloor beyond; and the older people sit around it, not saying much,\nand thinking with their hearts rather than with their heads; but\nsmall boys and girls know that interesting things have been happening\nin the kitchen all the afternoon, and are rather glad that the\nsupper was not very good, because there will be more room for good\nthings to-morrow; and the grown-ups and the children have made up any\nlittle differences of opinion they may have had before supper time,\nbecause Good-Will must reign, and reign alone, like Alexander; so\nthat there is nothing at all to regret, and nothing hurts anybody any\nmore, and they are all happy in just waiting for King Christmas to\nopen the door softly and make them all great people in his kingdom.\nBut if it is the right sort of house, he is already looking in\nthrough the window, to be sure that every one is all ready for him,\nand that nothing has been forgotten.\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\nThe following pages contain advertisements of a few of the Macmillan\nbooks for children\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILDREN\u2019S PLEASURE BOOK SERIES\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF ART\n\nBy MISS A. E. CONWAY and SIR MARTIN CONWAY.\n\n  With 16 full-page illustrations in color from public and private\n  galleries.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  An entertaining and attractive volume. The paintings reproduced\n  have been chosen because of their undoubted appeal to young minds.\n\n\nCHILD\u2019S WORLD IN PICTURES\n\nBy CLOTILDE VON WYSS.\n\n  With 32 full-page illustrations in color and 30 in black and white.\n\nDec. boards, 12mo, $.75 net; by mail $.85.\n\n  Story-like descriptions, illustrated by pictures of life in\n  far-away and unknown lands, certain to appeal to a child\u2019s vivid\n  imagination.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF STARS\n\nBy G. E. MITTON.\n\n  With 11 full-page illustrations in color and other illustrations.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A capital introduction to astronomy written in a most pleasing\n  manner for children\u2019s comprehension and interest and well\n  illustrated.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF GARDENING\n\nMRS. ALFRED SIDGWICK and MRS. PAYNTER.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Mrs. Cayley-Robinson.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  Tells the juvenile reader how to make his garden grow. It is\n  written from a child\u2019s point of view and supplies the information a\n  child can use.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF CELTIC STORIES\n\nBy ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A collection of stories, some of them strange and weird, but quite\n  as fascinating as any of the better known fairy tales. They are\n  retold in words as near the original as possible.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S TALES FROM SCOTTISH BALLADS\n\nBy ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  Seventeen of the most famous Scottish ballads retold in simple\n  English for children.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S TALES OF ENGLISH MINSTERS\n\nBy ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by various artists.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail, $2.15. Also separately:\nCanterbury, Durham, Ely, Lincoln, St. Albans, St. Paul\u2019s, York. Each\nwith a colored illustration, 50 cents net; by mail 55 cents.\n\n  Stories of saints, monarchs, statesmen and warriors connected with\n  the founding of ten of the best known English cathedrals.\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF LONDON\n\nBy G. E. MITTON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by John Williamson.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  \u201cA book as thoroughly charming as it is variously instructive ...\n  fitted to kindle in the imagination of a child a lively sense\n  of what great London is, as also of what it has been.\u201d\u2014_Chicago\n  Tribune._\n\n\nCHILDREN\u2019S BOOK OF EDINBURGH\n\nBy ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  In simple language Miss Grierson writes about the modern interests\n  of the city.\n\n\nTHE BOOK OF THE RAILWAY\n\nBy G. E. MITTON.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00; by mail $2.15.\n\n  There is nothing technical in it; it is written so clearly that a\n  young child can understand it and yet grown up children will find a\n  great deal that is entirely new to them.\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF PUNCH\n\nBy ASCOTT R. HOPE.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Stephen Baghot De La\n  Bere.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A book full of thrilling experiences and illustrated with lively\n  color pictures. It will hold the attention of boy or girl from the\n  first to the last word.\n\n\nTHE PILGRIM\u2019S PROGRESS\n\nBy JOHN BUNYAN.\n\n  With 8 full-page illustrations in color by Gertrude D. Hammond.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  This great allegory illustrated with pictures which are remarkable\n  for the manner in which they portray the spirit of Bunyan\u2019s famous\n  text.\n\n\nWILLIAM TELL TOLD AGAIN\n\nBy P. G. WODEHOUSE.\n\n  With 16 full-page illustrations in color by Philip Dadd.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  Accompanying the prose story and supplementing the pictures are\n  delightfully humorous verses revealing a lighter side to the story.\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF DON QUIXOTE\n\nBy MIGUEL DE CERVANTES.\n\n  Translated and abridged by Dominick Daly.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Stephen Baghot De La\n  Bere.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A selection of the more interesting and amusing parts of Cervantes\u2019\n  great composition.\n\n\nTHE KING WHO NEVER DIED\n\nBy DOROTHY SENIOR.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $1.50.\n\n\nBEASTS AND BIRDS\n\nBy CLOTILDE VON WYSS.\n\n  With 55 illustrations, of which 31 are in color.\n\nDec. boards, 8vo, 75 cents net.\n\n  A nature book for boys and girls.\n\n\nRED CAP ADVENTURES\n\nBy S. R. CROCKETT.\n\n  With 16 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $1.75.\n\n  A collection of nineteen stories founded upon Sir Walter Scott\u2019s\n  \u201cIvanhoe,\u201d \u201cFortunes of Nigel,\u201d \u201cQuentin Durward,\u201d and \u201cThe Pirate.\u201d\n\n\nRED CAP TALES\n\nBy S. R. CROCKETT.\n\n  With 16 full-page illustrations in color by Allan Stewart.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.20.\n\n  Here Mr. Crockett adapts \u201cWaverley,\u201d \u201cRob Roy,\u201d \u201cGuy Mannering,\u201d\n  and \u201cThe Antiquary\u201d for the benefit of young readers.\n\n\nADVENTURES IN MANY LANDS NORTH AMERICA\n\nBy ASCOTT R. HOPE.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by Henry Sandham.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $1.75\n\n  A collection of personal narratives of adventure, remarkable not\n  only for their own interest, but because they represent notable\n  phases of American life.\n\n\nTHE BULL OF THE KRAAL\n\nBy DUDLEY KIDD.\n\n  With 12 full-page illustrations in color by A. M. Goodall.\n\nDec. cloth, 12mo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A story of the exciting adventures of a delightful little Kafir\n  Prince and a number of his small, black friends.\n\n\nGOD\u2019S LANTERN BEARERS\n\nBy REV. R. C. GILLIE.\n\n  With 32 full-page illustrations in black and white by John Sargent\n  and others.\n\nDec. cloth, 8vo, $2.00 net; by mail $2.15.\n\n  A retelling of certain Bible stories in the language of children,\n  each illustrated by photogravures of ideal portraits. The lantern\n  bearers are holy men who, in each age, passed on the light of\n  heavenly truth to those beyond them.\n\n\nTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n  Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\n  pg 58 Changed: a deal of laughter and excitment\n             to: a deal of laughter and excitement\n\n  pg 109 Changed: were the Three Kings\u2014Gaspard\n              to: were the Three Kings\u2014Gaspar","title":"The children's book of Christmas","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":30982}