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needles, which made him so provoked that he thoughtlessly called our dear
Santa Claus a fraud.
Had there been many such mistakes the Demons would have
accomplished their evil purpose and made the children unhappy. But the
little friends of the absent Santa Claus labored faithfully and intelligently to
carry out their master’s ideas, and they made fewer errors than might be
expected under such unusual circumstances.
And, although they worked as swiftly as possible, day had begun to
break before the toys and other presents were all distributed; so for the first
time in many years the reindeer trotted into the Laughing Valley, on their
return, in broad daylight, with the brilliant sun peeping over the edge of the
forest to prove they were far behind their accustomed hour.
Having put the deer in the stable, the little folk began to wonder how
they might rescue their master; and they realized they must discover, first of
all, what had happened to him, and where he was.
So Wisk, the fairy, transported himself to the bower of the Fairy Queen,
which was located deep in the heart of the forest of Burzee; and once there,
it did not take him long to find out all about the naughty Demons and how
they had kidnapped the good Santa Claus to prevent his making children
happy. The Fairy Queen also promised her assistance, and then, fortified by
this powerful support, Wisk flew back to where Nuter and Peter and Kilter
awaited him, and the four counseled together and laid plans to rescue their
master from his enemies.
It is possible that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during the night
that succeeded his capture. For although he had faith in the judgment of his
little friends, he could not avoid a certain amount of worry, and an anxious
look would creep at times into his kind old eyes as he thought of the
disappointment that might await his dear little children. And the Demons,
who guarded him by turns, one after another, did not neglect to taunt him
with contemptuous words in his helpless condition.
When Christmas Day dawned the Demon of Malice was guarding the
prisoner, and his tongue was sharper than that of any of the others.
“The children are waking up, Santa!” he cried. “They are waking up to
find their stockings empty! Ho, ho! How they will quarrel, and wail, and
stamp their feet in anger! Our caves will be full to-day, old Santa! Our
caves are sure to be full!”
 But to this, as to other like taunts, Santa Claus answered nothing. He was
much grieved by his capture, it is true; but his courage did not forsake him.
And, finding that the prisoner would not reply to his jeers, the Demon of
Malice presently went away, and sent the Demon of Repentance to take his
place.
This last personage was not so disagreeable as the others. He had gentle
and refined features, and his voice was soft and pleasant in tone.
“My brother Demons do not trust me over-much,” said he, as he entered
the cavern; “but it is morning, now, and the mischief is done. You cannot
visit the children again for another year.”
“That is true,” answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully; “Christmas Eve
is past, and for the first time in centuries I have not visited my children.”
“The little ones will be greatly disappointed,” murmured the Demon of
Repentance, almost regretfully; “but that cannot be helped now. Their grief
is likely to make the children selfish and envious and hateful, and if they
come to the caves of the Demons to-day I shall get a chance to lead some of
them to my Cave of Repentance.”
“Do you never repent yourself?” asked Santa Claus, curiously.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” answered the Demon. “I am even now repenting that I
assisted in your capture. Of course it is too late to remedy the evil that has
been done; but repentance, you know, can come only after an evil thought
or deed, for in the beginning there is nothing to repent of.”
“So I understand,” said Santa Claus. “Those who avoid evil need never
visit your cave.”
“As a rule, that is true,” replied the Demon; “yet you, who have done no
evil, are about to visit my cave at once; for to prove that I sincerely regret
my share in your capture, I am going to permit you to escape.”
This speech greatly surprised the prisoner, until he reflected that it was
just what might be expected of the Demon of Repentance. The fellow at
once busied himself untying the knots that bound Santa Claus and
unlocking the chains that fastened him to the wall. Then he led the way
through a long tunnel until they both emerged in the Cave of Repentance.
“I hope you will forgive me,” said the Demon, pleadingly. “I am not
really a bad person, you know; and I believe I accomplish a great deal of
good in the world.”
 With this he opened a back door that let in a flood of sunshine, and Santa
Claus sniffed the fresh air gratefully.
“I bear no malice,” said he to the Demon in a gentle voice; “and I am
sure the world would be a dreary place without you. So, good morning, and
a Merry Christmas to you!”
With these words he stepped out to greet the bright morning, and a
moment later he was trudging along, whistling softly to himself, on his way
to his home in the Laughing Valley.
Marching over the snow toward the mountain was a vast army, made up
of the most curious creatures imaginable. There were numberless Knooks
from the forest, as rough and crooked in appearance as the gnarled branches
of the trees they ministered to. And there were dainty Ryls from the fields,
each one bearing the emblem of the flower or plant it guarded. Behind these
were many ranks of Pixies, Gnomes, and Nymphs, and in the rear a
thousand beautiful fairies floated along in gorgeous array.
This wonderful army was led by Wisk, Peter, Nuter, and Kilter, who had
assembled it to rescue Santa Claus from captivity and to punish the Demons
who had dared to take him away from his beloved children.
And, although they looked so bright and peaceful, the little immortals
were armed with powers that would be very terrible to those who had
incurred their anger. Woe to the Demons of the Caves if this army of
vengeance ever met them!
But lo! coming to meet his loyal friends appeared the imposing form of
Santa Claus, his white beard floating in the breeze and his bright eyes
sparkling with pleasure at this proof of the love and veneration he had
inspired in the hearts of the most powerful creatures in existence.
And while they clustered around him and danced with glee at his safe
return, he gave them earnest thanks for their support. But Wisk, and Nuter,
and Peter, and Kilter he embraced affectionately.
“It is useless to pursue the Demons,” said Santa Claus to the army.
“They have their place in the world, and can never be destroyed. But that is
a great pity, nevertheless,” he continued, musingly.
So the Fairies, and Knooks, and Pixies, and Ryls all escorted the good
man to his castle, and there left him to talk over the events of the night with
his little assistants.
 Wisk had already rendered himself invisible and flown through the big
world to see how the children were getting along on this bright Christmas
morning; and by the time he returned Peter had finished telling Santa Claus
of how they had distributed the toys.
“We really did very well,” cried the Fairy, in a pleased voice; “for I
found little unhappiness among the children this morning. Still you must
not get captured again, my dear master; for we might not be so fortunate
another time in carrying out your ideas.”
He then related the mistakes that had been made, and which he had not
discovered until his tour of inspection. And Santa Claus at once sent him
with rubber boots for Charlie Smith, and a doll for Mamie Brown; so that
even those two disappointed ones became happy.
As for the wicked Demons of the Caves, they were filled with anger and
chagrin when they found that their clever capture of Santa Claus had come
to naught. Indeed, no one on that Christmas Day appeared to be at all
selfish, or envious, or hateful. And, realizing that while the children’s saint
had so many powerful friends it was folly to oppose him, the Demons never
again attempted to interfere with his journeys on Christmas Eve.

CHRISTMASLAND

HEINRICH SEIDEL
(Translated by Emma A. Schaub)

I. Werner and Anna

In the last house of the village, just where the big forest begins, lived a
poor widow with her two children, Werner and Anna. The little that grew in
her garden and on her single acre of ground, the milk of the one goat she
owned, and the small sum of money she was able to earn, were just enough
to support the small family. Nor were the children allowed to be idle, but
were obliged to help in every way possible. This they were glad to do,
enjoying their work, which led them in all directions through the glorious
forest. In early spring they gathered the yellow cowslips and the blue
anemones to sell in the city, and later the fragrant lilies of the valley that
grew in the beech wood. Then came the strawberries glistening red under
the leaves, the blueberries and the coral-tinted bilberries growing in the
moor, and beautiful mosses and lichens—all these the children cheerily
gathered and sent to the city.
With the coming of the fall came new labor. Day after day the children
went to the woods, picking up dry wood thrown down by the wind. This
they carried home and stacked by the side of the hut. Nuts, too, were
gathered, put in a bag, and hung in the chimney against Christmas time. Ah,
Christmas! That was a magic word, and at its sound the eyes of the children
sparkled. And yet the great day brought them very little. A wee little tree
with a few candles, some apples and nuts, and two gingerbread men; under
the tree for each one a warm article of clothing for the winter, and if times
were very good, a cheap toy or a new slate—that was all. And yet from
those little candles and the golden star at the top of the tree there came a
glorious light that shed its rays throughout the year, a light that shone in the
eyes of the children whenever the word Christmas was spoken.
Winter had now come, and one evening as they sat cozily about the
stove, their mother told them a beautiful Christmas story. When she had
finished, Werner, who had been looking very thoughtful, suddenly asked:
“Mother, where does the Christmasman live?”
The mother answered, letting the fine thread slip through her fingers
while her spinning wheel hummed a merry tune: “The Christmasman?
Behind the forest in the mountains. But no one can find him. Who seeks
him wanders about in vain, and the little birds in the trees hop from branch
to branch and laugh at him. In the mountains the Christmasman has his
gardens, his shops, and his mines. There his busy workmen labor day and
night, making lovely Christmas things. In the gardens grow the silver and
gold apples and nuts, and the most delicious fruits of marzipan, and in the
shops are heaped up thousands and thousands of the most wonderful toys in
the world. There are halls filled with beautiful dolls, clad in calico, in wool,
in silk, and in velvet”—“Ah!” said little Anna, and her eyes shone—“and
others again are filled with drums and swords and guns, cannon and toy
soldiers”—“Oh!” cried little Werner, and his eyes sparkled.
This story impressed him greatly; he could not forget it, and he thought
how happy he would be could he but find the way to this wonderland. Once
he got as far as the mountains, and wandered about there a long time, but
could see nothing but valleys and hills and trees. The brooks that ran by him
murmured and babbled as brooks always do, but did not betray their secret;
the wood-peckers hammered and pecked just as they did elsewhere in the
woods and then flew away, and the squirrels that climbed nimbly up the
trees were just like other squirrels that he had seen.
He longed for a glimpse of the wonderful Christmasland—if some one
would only tell him how to find it, he would surely go. The people of whom
he inquired the way laughed at him, and when he told his mother she too
laughed, and bade him think no more about it; the story she had told him
had been only a fairy tale.
But little Werner could not forget the story, though he did not speak of it
again. Only to his little sister Anna did he at times confide his thoughts, and
together they dreamed dreams and saw visions of that wondrous country—
Christmasland.
II. The Little Bird
One morning shortly before Christmas, Werner, with his ax on his
shoulder, went alone into the forest, for the forester, who liked the well-
behaved boy, had this year again permitted him to cut down a little pine tree
for their Christmas Eve. The pretty, graceful little tree which the children
had already selected, stood in rather a lonely spot, far out in the woods,
sheltered by a kindly old beech. It was a beautiful mild winter day, and
when Werner at last reached the spot he sat down on a tree-stump to rest.
Round about him all was still as in a lonely church; only a brooklet
murmured softly, and from afar came the shrill cry of a jay. Again he
dreamed of the wonderful Christmasland, and the longing to see its glories
grew so strong that he cried aloud: “Oh, if only some one could show me
the way to Christmasland!”
Then from the waves of the brook came clear sounds like rippling
laughter, a wood mouse peeped from her house and laughed a wee little
laugh, and from the top of the old beech tree came a stirring and a waving,
as though she were shaking her head at such folly. But from the little pine
tree which stood directly before him he suddenly heard a sweet, clear
chirping; it was a blue titmouse, hopping gayly from branch to branch,
incessantly crying: “I know! I know!”
“What do you know?” asked Werner.
 The little bird threw herself backward from a branch, turning over in the
air in the drollest way, then alighting again, cried: “I know the way! I know
the way!”
“Then show me the way!” said Werner quickly.
Again the little bird began to chirp softly, but the boy understood
everything. “You were good to me!” said she. “You protected my little
children, my ten little children! I know the way! I’ll show you the way!
Quick! Quick!”
And the little thing flew to the nearest bush, then farther, and Werner
followed. At first he had comprehended but half of what the bird had said,
but at last he remembered that it was a titmouse whose frightened cries had
drawn him to the old beech tree last spring. There he saw a jay sitting
before the hollow of the tree where the little bird had built her nest, about to
seize the naked babies and devour them. The poor little mother was
hovering about, trying to defend them, crying piteously. He picked up a
stone and threw it so happily that the jay fell to the ground dead.
So now the little titmouse wished to show her gratitude. She kept flying
before him from bush to bush toward the source of the brook, which came
from the mountains. Soon the ground began to rise, and the brook at
Werner’s feet babbled louder; then he came to an ascending valley which
grew narrower and narrower, while the walls on both sides grew steeper,
and at last, when the brook suddenly disappeared behind a projecting rock,
Werner saw before him a smooth wall of stone, towering high and crowned
with mighty pine trees. The little bird suddenly vanished, but away up in the
distance her voice could be faintly heard, crying: “Soon! Soon!”
Werner sat down on a rock and examined the stone wall. It was smooth,
had no crevices, and was covered with mosses and gay lichens; he could see
nothing more. So he sat and waited. At last he heard a gentle fluttering
above him and a hazel nut fell at his feet. “Take! Take!” cried the little bird.
“Crack! Crack!”
Werner took the nut and looked at it. He could discover nothing peculiar
about it, but when he shook it, it rattled as though something hard were
inside. He cracked it and found a dainty golden key. In the meantime the
little bird had flown to the stone wall. Clinging to it with both delicate little
feet, she began pecking away so busily among the lichens, that the pieces
fairly flew. At last she cried: “Here! Here!”
 Werner came near, and noticed a small, silver-bound keyhole. The
golden key fitted exactly into it, and when Werner turned it, a strange, fine,
ringing sound came from the stone wall, and a heavy door, that fitted as
exactly into its frame as though it had been cut into the rock, swung slowly
open. A warm bluish air came from the opening, and an odor of burning
pine needles and of wax candles just blown out, was wafted toward him.
“Oh, how this smells of Christmas!” said little Werner.
But the little bird cried: “Go in! Go in! Quick! Quick!”
Scarcely had Werner, who was just a little frightened, taken a few steps
into the gloomy passage, when he felt a draft behind him, and suddenly it
grew quite dark, for the door had again silently closed. Now indeed he
began to lose courage, for to return was impossible, yet he saw that a faint
heart would avail him little—so on he went, groping his way resolutely
along the black passage.
III. Christmasland
Soon his path grew brighter and he stepped out into the strangest country
he had ever seen. The air was warm, but not with the warmth of summer,
but as it is in heated rooms, and fragrant with many sweet odors. No sun
shone in the sky, yet everywhere was an even, tempered brightness. Of the
country itself he saw but little, for behind him was the huge wall of rock
through which he had entered, and round about him tall bushes bearing the
queerest fruits obstructed the view. As he walked along, lost in wonder, he
came to a broad avenue that led to a distant building. Bordering this avenue
on both sides were great apple trees, on which grew golden and silver
apples. Old men who looked like gnomes, with their long gray beards, and
pretty little children were busily engaged picking these apples and heaping
them up in large baskets, many of which stood already filled to the brim
with their glittering load. No one paid any attention to little Werner, who,
with growing astonishment, directed his steps toward the building in the
background, which proved to be a large castle, with towering steeples and
gilded domes and roofs. On either side of the avenue lay large fields on
which grew low plants. Here, too, every one was busy gathering and
harvesting, and in the different fields, distinguished by different colors
according to the plants they bore, he could see gay, dainty figures diligently
loading little two-wheeled carts, drawn by gold-colored, shaggy ponies.
 As Werner approached the castle he noticed a fragrant odor of honey
cake, growing stronger and stronger, and on looking more closely, he
perceived that the entire castle was made of this delectable stuff. The
foundation consisted of large blocks, the walls of smooth cakes ornamented
in the most enticing way with citron and almonds. Everywhere were
exquisite reliefs of marzipan, the balustrades and galleries and balconies of
sugar, the beautiful statues of chocolate standing in gilded niches, and the
glittering, gay windows made of transparent bon-bons—indeed, here was a
castle good enough to eat! At the artistic entrance the handle of the doorbell
was of transparent sugar. Werner took heart, and pulled with all his might.
No bell rang, however, but a voice from within cried, “Kikeriki!” so loud
and shrill that the frightened boy stepped hastily back. The cry was repeated
again and again, like an echo growing fainter and fainter, losing itself in the
interior of the building. Then there was silence. The door now opened softly
and before him stood so strange a creature that had it not lived and moved,
Werner would undoubtedly have taken it for a large jumping-jack.
“By leaf gold and honey cake!” said this merry person. “A visitor? Why,
that is a most remarkable event!” And then, whether from pleasure or
astonishment, he threw his limbs repeatedly up over his head, so that it was
almost dreadful to see. Swinging his arms and legs back and forth, he
asked: “Well, my boy, and what do you want?”
“Does the Christmasman live here?” asked little Werner.
“Certainly,” said the jumping-jack, “and his Honor is at home, but very
busy, very busy.”
Then he asked the little fellow to follow him, moving along in a queer,
sidelong manner, swinging his arms and legs incessantly. He led the way
through an entrance hall whose walls were made of marzipan and whose
ceiling was supported by pillars of polished chocolate, to a door, before
which two gigantic nutcrackers in full uniform stood guard; told him to wait
here, and disappeared. In the meantime the nutcrackers stared at Werner
with their big eyes, then grinned at each other with an indescribable wooden
grin, at which there was a funny sound as though they were laughing with
their stomachs. Presently the jumping-jack returned, made a most beautiful
sidelong bow, and said: “My gracious master begs you to enter.” Then the
nutcrackers, drawing close together, suddenly presented their swords and
with their teeth beat a roll that was most extraordinary.
 When little Werner stepped into the room he was greatly astonished, for
the Christmasman did not look at all as he had imagined him, nor did he
resemble the pictures he had seen of him. True, he had a beautiful long
white beard, as was proper, but on his head was a blue, gold-embroidered
skullcap, and he wore a dressing gown of yellow silk, and sat before a large
book and wrote. But this dressing gown was covered with such wonderful
embroidery that it was like a picture book. On it you could see soldiers and
dolls and clowns, and all the animals of Noah’s ark, drums and fifes,
violins, trumpets, swords and guns, flowers and cakes, and sun and moon
and stars.
The Christmasman laid down his pen and said: “How did you get here,
my boy?”
Werner answered: “The little bird showed me the way.”
“ ’T is a hundred years since any one has been here,” replied the
Christmasman, “and now this little fellow succeeds in coming. Well, your
reward shall be that you may see everything. I myself am too busy just now,
but my daughter shall be your guide. Come, little Goldflame,” he cried, “we
have a guest!”
Then in the next room there was a fluttering and a rustling, and in ran a
beautiful little girl. She wore a dress of leaf-gold and she glittered and
sparkled all over. On her head was a little crown of gold, and on its topmost
tip was a gleaming flamelet.
“Why, how nice!” she said, and took little Werner by the hand, crying,
“Come along, strange boy!” and ran with him from the room.
IV. The Christmas Warehouse
They came to a large corridor where long rows of wooden horses stood
tied—there were gray horses and brown horses, chestnut horses and black
horses.
“You may choose one,” said little Goldflame.
Werner selected a beautiful, shiny, dapple-gray and Goldflame mounted
a coal-black steed. “Hoy!” she cried, and with a whir away rolled the little
horses so fast that Werner’s hair flew, and the flame on the girl’s crown was
wafted like a streamer in the air. When they came to the door at the end of
the corridor, she cried, “Holla!” It opened and they rushed through into a
big hall in the middle of which they halted. They dismounted and little
Goldflame said: “This is the hall of lead.” Lining the walls to the ceiling
were open cupboards filled with shelves on which stood, packed in boxes,
countless armies of soldiers, hunters, shepherds, sleighing parties,
menageries, and everything possible that could be made of lead. Little
black-bearded dwarfs climbed busily up and down ladders, placing the
boxes into carts which they rolled outside, where larger wagons waited to
be loaded with the toys. As soon as the dwarfs saw Werner and Goldflame
they brought them two gold-brocaded easy-chairs, and Goldflame said:
“The big parade is coming very soon.”
They sat down, and had barely waited half a minute when from under
one of the cupboards came a strange ringing music and the Prussian guard
marched out, and filed by with martial strains. Here indeed were toy
soldiers that delighted one’s heart! How the little fellows strutted and the
dapper lieutenants saluted with their swords! Then came the white
cuirassiers with their glittering armor, the red hussars of Potsdam, the
lancers with their gleaming flags, the blue dragoons, and last of all the
cannon. When these had passed, “Trari, trara!” sounded from under the
cupboard, and deer, rabbits, and foxes burst forth, the yelping pack behind,
and the hunters on horseback with huzza, crack of whip, and sounding of
horns.
Then all at once something glistened in the air and fine snow began to
fall. When the ground was white a sleighing party with merry bells ringing
came out and rushed by. The fronts of the sleighs were in the form of
swans, lions, tigers, and dragons, and in the sleighs sat ladies and gentlemen
in beautiful furs. In passing, they threw snowballs at Werner and at little
Goldflame. But if you looked closely at one of these snowballs, you found a
tiny bonbon wrapped in tissue paper.
The snow disappeared, and now with sweet bells ringing came shepherds
and shepherdesses with their flocks, then pretty peasants with fruits and
flowers, then gypsies, musicians, tinkers, rope walkers, horseback riders,
and such vagrant folk. Last came Mr. Hagenbeck of Hamburg with his
African menagerie of giraffes, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses,
zebras, and antelopes. The lions and panthers followed in cages on little
wagons, and roared mightily, as though insulted at the indignities put upon
them.
 At the close of this jolly parade both children again mounted their horses
and rode on. What marvels were unfolded before little Werner’s eyes! The
large hall filled with dolls, for which he did not particularly care and which
he only wished Anna might see, the theater magazine where at Goldflame’s
request a thousand theaters opened at the same time with a thousand
different plays, making a terrible din, the tool-chest warehouse, the
storeroom for the musical instruments, the wooden-animal magazine, the
picture department, the paint-box warehouse, the hall of the wax candles,
and so on, until he was quite tired out when at last they reached the great
candy department.
“Now let us eat,” said little Goldflame. Immediately six little
confectioner’s apprentices brought a table, set it, and served them with the
most delicious dishes. Werner had never tasted such good things! There
were Leipzig larks of marzipan filled with nut cream, sausages of quinces,
ham made of rosy creamy sugar, pastry filled with strawberry jam, and all
sorts of candied fruits. They had pineapple lemonade with vanilla cream to
drink, and behind them stood the six little waiters, eager to serve, running to
fill every order. For dessert they were to have, as Goldflame remarked,
something quite superlatively fine—dry black bread and cheese. Such
ordinary dishes were so rare in this country, and so difficult to obtain, that
they were considered the greatest delicacies. When they had finished eating,
the wooden horses were again brought out, and Goldflame said, “Now we
will visit the mines.” So mounting their excellent steeds, away they rode.
V. The Mines
They rode over fields on which grew the most exquisite fruits and
vegetables, all of sugar or chocolate filled with cream; they galloped along
stately avenues bordered with fruit trees, toward the mountains which lay
before them. Some of these gleamed white as chalk; others looked dull and
dark, almost black. But the tops of even the black mountains were as white
as though snow-capped.
“Perhaps you think you see snow,” said little Goldflame. “But when it
snows here, it only snows powdered sugar.”
Werner now saw before him a high, shining white rock on which
hundreds of men were working. They rode quite close and dismounted.
“This is the great sugar quarry,” said Goldflame. “This entire rock consists
of the finest white colonial sugar.”
 Quite near them they observed an entrance to a cave, and as they
approached it several miners hurried toward them with torches and led the
way. They penetrated deep into the mountain, whose walls shimmered and
shone in the reflected torchlight. Presently they stepped into a magnificent
chamber whose walls, covered with huge crystals of transparent rock candy,
glittered and sparkled in the light of the torches.
“This is the large rock-candy cavern,” said little Goldflame. They went
on and came to a place where the miners were knocking and hammering,
and working new passages into the mountains.
“These men are looking for melted sugar, and when they find it, they
scoop it out with huge spoons,” she said.
Suddenly, as they proceeded, they beheld mountains, no longer white
and shining, but dull, dark brown, and smelling of vanilla. “We are now
approaching the chocolate mines,” explained little Goldflame.
Here many people were at work tunneling into the mountains, for it was
only in the interior that the best vanilla chocolate was found. They passed
through great chambers supported here and there by single pillars left
standing. When at last they again stepped into the open air, Werner noticed
a roaring brook that came from a ravine in the mountains and rushed toward
the valley, where it turned the mills that sawed the chocolate blocks into
cakes.
“Would you like to have a drink?” said little Goldflame. “It tastes good;
it is pure liqueur.” Little Werner was so very thirsty after all the sweets he
had eaten and seen, and from the brook came so fresh and enticing an odor,
that he seized the cup eagerly which an obliging miner handed him, and
emptied it at a single draft. But scarcely had he finished when the world
began to turn about him in the queerest way—he saw two Goldflames, four
Goldflames, a hundred Goldflames, glittering and gleaming before him,
then flowing together into a shining sea of light, carrying away his senses—
and he knew nothing more.
VI. Conclusion
The first sound that Werner heard on awakening was the chirping of a
titmouse. He was astonished to find himself sitting on a stump under the old
beech tree with the little pine tree in front of him. The titmouse hopped
from branch to branch and chirped, but Werner no longer understood what
she said. It suddenly occurred to him that it must be very late, that his
mother had surely been anxiously waiting for him. But looking up at the
sun he was astonished to find that scarcely a quarter of an hour had passed
since he had left this spot. He could not account for this mystery, but eager
to relate his wonderful experiences to his mother and little Anna, he cut
down the pine tree and hurried home with his burden as fast as he could.
When with shining eyes and breathless haste he had told them his story, his
mother grew quite angry and told him not to dare fall asleep again in the
woods in winter—had the weather been colder it might have been his death.
But afterwards she shook her head, saying to herself, “Where does the boy
get all his strange fancies?”
Little Werner wept because his mother did not believe him, and went
away, but Anna followed, eager to hear more. She never tired of hearing
about Goldflame and the hall of dolls, and in the days that followed he had
to tell her about them over and over again, until he was quite comforted.
One day they went to the woods together to look for the entrance to that
wonderful country. But though they followed the brooklet they never found
a place resembling in the least the description Werner had given, and he was
so ashamed and embarrassed, he knew not what to say.
And so Christmas drew near. A heavy snow had been falling for two
whole days, and the world was beautiful, wrapped in its glistening, white
Christmas robe. Night was falling, and the children sat in their dark
chamber, eagerly waiting, whispering together and listening to their mother
who was walking back and forth in the brightly lighted Christmas room,
arranging their poor little gifts. Suddenly from afar they heard the jingling
of sleighbells coming nearer and nearer, and a whip cracked merrily. Now
the sleigh was quite close, now it stopped before the house; they could hear
the horses stamping and the bells jingling softly when the animals turned
their heads.
“The Christmasman! The Christmasman!” cried Werner. They heard
doors opening and a man’s voice speaking—then their mother called to
them, “Come in, children; your uncle is here.”
Wemer and Anna ran into the room and there stood a man in a great fur
coat who held out his hands to them, saying, “Come to me, my dear
children.” He kissed each one and said, “You shall come with me to the city
and live with me in my large house. I will be a father to you and I will care
for you.” In the meantime a gigantic coachman with a fur cap, a long white
beard, and a cloak with seven collars was bringing many large packages
into the room. When these were afterwards opened they contained so many
beautiful gifts that the people in that little house had a Christmas such as
they had never had before! Later, when Werner and Anna went to bed, he
whispered to her very mysteriously, “Do you know who the coachman was
with the fur cap, the long white beard, and the big cloak? That was the
Christmasman. Indeed, I recognized him, and he looked at me and winked.”
But what had happened to the rich old uncle who lived alone, an
unsociable miser, and who had never given his poor sister and her children
a thought—what had happened to him to change him so? In the night
following the day on which Werner had visited the Christmasman, the uncle
had had a strange dream. A man with a blue velvet cap and a long white
beard, wrapped in a golden robe, suddenly stood before him, looked at him
with great, blue, penetrating eyes, then spoke slowly and impressively:
“Konrad Borodin, have you a sister?” Thereupon fear overcame him so that
he could not answer. Then the apparition gradually vanished, the eyes only
gazing threateningly upon him. Three successive nights he had the same
dream. In the meantime a restlessness beyond description drove him from
room to room of his dreary, empty house, and ever in his ear there sounded
that deep, reproachful voice of his dream, saying, “Have you a sister?” On
the morning after the third night he could endure it no longer, but hurried to
the city, where to the astonishment of all the people who had known him as
a miser, he bought the loveliest things, ordered a sleigh, filled it with his
purchases, and drove directly to his poor sister.
Little Werner received a good education, and grew to be a famous and
highly respected man. He himself told me this story.
 A CHRISTMAS LEGEND
(A Florentine Legend of the Nativity)
VERNON LEE

Beyond Bethlehem, which is a big village, walled and moated, lies a

hilly country, exceeding wild and covered with dense woods of firs, pines,
larches, beeches, and similar trees. At times the people of Bethlehem, going
in bands, cut down these trees and burn them to charcoal which they pack
on mules and sell in the valley. Sometimes they tie together whole tree
trunks such as would serve for beams, rafters, and masts, and float them
down the rivers, which are many and very rapid.
On these mountains in the thickest part of the forests a certain
woodcutter bethought him to build a house wherein to live with his family,
store the timber, and care for his beasts. For this purpose he employed
certain pillars and pieces of masonry that stood in the forest, being remains
of a temple of the heathen, which had long ceased to exist. He cleared the
wood round about, leaving only tree stumps and bushes. Close by in a
ravine between high fir trees ran a river of greenish waters, exceedingly
cold and rapid. It was always full to the brim even in mid-summer, owing to
the melting snows; and around up hill and down dale stretched the woods of
firs, larches, pines, and other noble and useful trees, emitting a very
pleasant and virtuous fragrance.
The man thought to enjoy his house and came with his family and
servants. Also he brought his horses and mules and oxen which he had
employed to carry down the timber and charcoal. But scarcely were they
settled when an earthquake rent the place, tearing wall from wall, and pillar
from pillar; and a voice was heard in the air crying, “Ecce domus domini
dei,”[16] whereupon they fled, astonished and in terror, and returned to the
town.
And no one of that man’s family ventured henceforth to return to that
house or to that wood save one called Hilarion, a poor lad and a servant, but
of upright heart and faith. He offered to go back and take up his abode there
and cut down the trees and burn the charcoal for his master. So he went. He
was but a poor lad clothed in leathern tunic and coarse serge hood.
 And Hilarion took with him an ox and an ass to load with charcoal and
drive down to Bethlehem to his master.
The first night on which Hilarion slept in that house, which had fallen to
ruin, he heard voices, as of children—both boys and maidens—singing in
the air. But he closed his eyes, repeated a Paternoster, turned over, and slept.
Another night he heard voices which made him tremble, but being clean of
heart he said two Aves and went to sleep. And once more did he hear the
voices, and they were passing sweet. And with them came a fragrance as of
crushed herbs and many kinds of flowers, frankincense, and orris root.
Hilarion feared the voices were those of heathen gods, but he said his
prayers and slept.
But at length one night as Hilarion heard these songs he opened his eyes,
and behold, the place was light, and a great staircase of light like golden
cobwebs stretched up to heaven and hosts of angels appeared, coming and
going, with locks like honeycomb and robes of rose and green, azure and
white, thickly embroidered with purest pearls. They had wings as of
butterflies and peacock’s tails and a golden glory shone about their heads.
They went to and fro carrying garlands and strewing flowers, so that,
although midwinter, it was like a garden in June, sweet with roses and lilies
and gilliflowers. And the angels sang and, when they had finished their
work they said, “It is well,” and they departed, holding hands as they flew
into the sky above the fir trees. And Hilarion was astonished and prayed
fervently.
And the next day when he was cutting a fir tree in the wood he met
among the rocks a man old and venerable with a long gray beard and a
solemn air. He was clad in crimson, and under his arm he carried written
books and a scourge. And Hilarion said, “Who art thou? The forest is
haunted by spirits, and I would know whether thou be of them or of men.”
And the old man made answer, “I am a wise man and a king. I have
spent all my days learning the secrets of things. I know how the trees grow,
how the waters run, and where treasures be. I can teach thee what the stars
sing, and in what manner the ruby and emerald gather their light in the heart
of the earth. I can chain the wind and stop the sun, for I am wise above all
men. But I seek one wiser than myself, and I go through the woods in
search of him, my master.”
 And Hilarion said, “Tarry thou here, and thou shalt see, if I mistake not,
him whom thou seekest.”
So the old man tarried in the forest and built himself a hut of stones.
And the day after that as Hilarion went forth to catch fish in the river he
met on the bank a lady, beautiful beyond compare. And Hilarion asked,
“Who art thou? The forest is haunted by spirits; art thou one of them?”
And she answered, “I am a princess, the fairest of women. Kings and
princes have brought gifts to me. They have hung wreaths on my palace and
strewn flowers in my garden. I am beautiful beyond compare, but I seek one
more beautiful than myself. Day by day I go searching my master by the
lakes and rivers.”
And Hilarion made answer thus, “Tarry thou here and thou shalt see, if I
mistake not, him whom thou seekest.”
And the lady tarried by the river and built herself a cabin of reeds and
leaves.
That night was the coldest and longest winter night. Hilarion made for
himself a bed of fern and hay in the stable of the ox and the ass and he lay
close to them for warmth. And lo! in the middle of the night the ass brayed
and the ox bellowed and Hilarion started up. He saw the heavens open with
a great brightness as of beaten and fretted gold. Angels wreathed in roses
were coming and going, and as they held each other’s hands they sang,
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
And Hilarion wondered again and prayed fervently.
And that day toward noon there came through the wood one bearing a
staff and leading a mule on which was seated a woman. They were poor
folk, travel stained. And the man said to Hilarion, “My name is Joseph. I am
a carpenter of the city of Nazareth. My wife is called Mary. Suffer thou us
to rest and my wife to lie on this straw of the stables.”
And Hilarion said, “You are welcome.”
Hilarion laid down more fern and hay and gave provender to the mule.
And Mary brought forth her first-born son and Hilarion took it and laid it
in the manger. And he went forth into the woods, where he found the wise
man and the beautiful woman.
“Come with me to my stable,” he said, “where the fir trees were cleared
above the river.”
 And they went with him to the ruined house, and they saw the babe lying
in the manger.
Then the wise man and the beautiful woman knelt down before the child.
“He is exceeding fair,” said the princess.
“He is wiser than I am,” said the king. “Surely this is He that is our
Master.”
And the skies opened and there came forth angels such as Hilarion had
seen before with the glory of radiant gold about their heads and garlands of
roses around their necks. And they sang again, “Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

THE STAR IN THE EAST

Three Shepherds
Three Kings: Gaspar, Melchior, Balthazar
Joseph Mary

Scene I. Hills outside Jerusalem

Carol by Children:
In the fields with their flocks abiding,
They lay on the dewy ground,
And glimmering under the starlight
The sheep lay white around.
When the light of the Lord streamed o’er them,
And lo! from the heavens above
An angel leaned from the glory,
And sang his song of love;
He sang that first sweet Christmas
The song that shall never cease—
Glory to God in the highest,
On earth good will and peace.

First Shepherd:
Now must I rest awhile!
For mile on mile, and mile on mile
I’ve trudged on foot since break of day began.
And I’m but an old and ancient man.
I am stiff and my bones are old,
And the night is bitter—bitter cold.

Second Shepherd:
Aye, ’tis bitter cold, and naught to be seen
But snow and the starry sky.

First Shepherd:
I’ve come a mighty step to-day,
But—is that the town so far away?

Second Shepherd:

Aye, dost see that great star

That hangs above the town?

First Shepherd:
’Tis a wondrous star even as ever I saw.
But I am wearied sore;
So wearied I have never been before.

Enter Third Shepherd

Third Shepherd:
Look ye, here is a lamb, new born.

Second Shepherd:
Poor little beastie! Lay it down and warm it.

Third Shepherd:
An ill night to be born in! Frost and snow,
Cold heaven above, cold earth below.
I marvel any little creature should be born
On such a night. I found it all forlorn,
Crying beside its mother.

Second Shepherd:
Warm it in thy cloak. ’Tis but a little lamb.

First Shepherd:
Hark! is that the sky that sings?

Second Shepherd:
Nay, I hear no sound at all.
You are wearied. Mile and mile you’ve trudged to-day.

Third Shepherd:

Well, as for sleep, I’m ready. What say ye?

Second Shepherd:
Aye, do. Sleep ye, and I’ll keep watch.
The wolf, maybe, will visit us ere dawn.
Or, if not he, perchance another lamb.
(They sleep. The Third Shepherd walks, with
the lamb in his cloak. Soft music is heard.)

Third Shepherd:
Hark! There’s music in the wind!
And what strange light is in the east?
Surely it is not dawn?
(Angels appear. The Shepherd arouses the others.)

Angel:
Gloria in Excelsis!
Fear not, for behold I bring you glad tidings of great joy.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David,
 a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be the sign unto you:
Ye shall find the heavenly
babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
Gloria in Excelsis!

First Shepherd:
’Twas a fine voice—even as ever I heard.

Second Shepherd:
All the hills with a lighting, methought, at his word shone fair.

Third Shepherd:
He spoke of a Babe at Bethlehem, mark you well.
That betokens yon star. Let us seek Him there.

First Shepherd:
To Bethlehem he bade that we should go. I fear we tarry too long.

Second Shepherd:
Full glad would I be,
Might I kneel on my knee
Some word to say to that child.

Third Shepherd:
But the angel said in a manger was he laid and poorly clad.

First Shepherd:
We shall see him I know before it be morn.

Second Shepherd:

The place is near. Let us go even now unto

Bethlehem and see this thing
which has come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

First and Third Shepherds:

Aye, let us go and find Him!
(Tableau held while music dies away.)

Scene II. Manger Scene

 Carol by children:
O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie,
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night.

Angel chorus:
Away in the manger,
No crib for his bed,
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky
Looked down where He lay,
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep in the hay.

The cattle were lowing,

The baby awakes
But little Lord Jesus,
No crying He makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus!
Look down from the sky,
And stay by my cradle
Till morning is nigh.

(Shepherds arrive at the manger.

They stand at a little distance, gazing in awe.)
 First Shepherd:
Lo, here is the house, and here is He!

Second Shepherd:
Forsooth, it is the same.

Third Shepherd:
Look ye, where the Lord is laid,
Between two beasts, and in a manger,
As the angel said.

(They advance, and kneel before the manger.)

First Shepherd:
Hail, hail, young child
Of a maiden, meek and mild.
Lo, he merries,
Lo, he laughs, my sweeting.
I give Thee my greeting!
Have a bob of cherries!

Second Shepherd:
Hail, goodly Babe!
A bird have I brought
To my Bairn.
Hail, little tiny mop,
I would drink in Thy cup,
Little day star!

Third Shepherd:
Hail, darling dear:
Sweet is Thy cheer;
A ball I bring Thee.
Put forth Thy dall,[17]
Keep and play Thee withal,
Little heavenly light.

Angel chorus:
Holy night, peaceful night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Only one yet wakes and prays,
Looking on with tender gaze
On her heavenly child,
On her heavenly child.

Holy night, peaceful night,

Son of God, Light of Light,
Pure and gentle in thine eyes
All thy wealth of mercy lies
For a world redeemed,
For a world redeemed.

(The Three Kings arrive at the door of the stable.

Joseph advances to meet them.)

Gaspar:
W h j df f
 We have journeyed from afar
Led by the shining of your splendid star.
We are Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar.

Joseph:
Sirs, whom seek ye?

Gaspar:
We seek a newborn King,
Gold, frankincense to Him to bring,
And many a kingly precious thing.

Joseph:
Good sirs, here lies a newborn child,
Seek ye him and his mother mild?

(The Three Kings go toward the manger.)

Balthazar:
Behold, the child is clothed in light!

Melchior:
Our journey ends; past is the night.

Gaspar:
Let us make no more delay
To worship him most worthily.

Gaspar }
Melchior } Hail, King of Kings!
Balthazar} (They kneel.)

Gaspar:
I bring Thee a crown,
O King of Kings!
And here a scepter full of gems,
For Thou shalt rule the hearts of men.
(He gives crown and scepter.)

Melchior:
For Thee I bring sweet frankincense.
(Swings censor.)

Balthazar:
And I bring myrrh to offer Thee!
Gaspar:
The greatest gift is yet ungiven—
Oh, heavenly King, heart’s love we bring.

Melchior:
Not gifts of gold nor priceless gems
Is worth the love we offer Thee.

Balthazar:
And lowly folk who have no gold
Nor rare and precious thing to give,
May bring the dearest gift of all—
A loving heart.

Golden carol (sung by the Three Kings):

We saw a light shine out afar,
On Christmas in the morning,
And straight we knew Christ’s Star it was,
Bright beaming in the morning.

Then did we fall on bended knee,

On Christmas in the morning,
And praised the Lord who’d let us see
His glory at its dawning.
(Tableau, Kings and Shepherds.)

Angel carol:
Then let us all with one accord
Sing praises to our heavenly Lord,
That hath made Heaven and Earth of naught,
And with His blood mankind hath bought;
Noël, Noël, Noël, Noël,
Born is the King of Israel!

Recessional carol by children:

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,

Let nothing you dismay;
For Jesus Christ our Saviour
Was born on Christmas Day,
To save us all from Satan’s power
When we had gone astray.

Oh! tidings of comfort and joy,

 Comfort and joy,
Oh! tidings of comfort and joy!

A BLESSING
ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

Now may the Holy Christ Child

Who came on Christmas Day,
The gentle Friend and Brother
Who smiles upon your play,
Bless all the little children
However far away.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] By permission. From The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods Book, by Albert
Bigelow Paine. Copyright, 1900, by Harper Brothers.
[2] From the Kindergarten Review, 1908. By permission of the author.
[3] From Some Great Stories and How to Tell Them, published by Newson &
Company, New York.
[4] From Mother Stories. By permission of the publishers, Milton Bradley
Company.
[5] By courtesy of the author.
[6] By courtesy of Mrs. Richard Watson Gilder.
[7] By courtesy of the translater.
[8] From The City that Never was Reached. Copyrighted by The Pilgrim Press. By
permission of the publishers.
[9] By permission of the publishers, Houghton Mifflin Company.
[10] La Dame de Noël.
[11] By permission of the author and of the publishers, Fleming H. Revell
Company.
[12] By courtesy of the author.
[13] Reprinted by the author’s permission from Why the Chimes Rang, and Other
Stories. Copyright by the Bobbs Merrill Company, Indianapolis.
[14] From Told to the Little Tot. Copyright, 1906, by Dodge Publishing Co.
[15] A franc is equal to twenty cents.
[16] “Behold the house of the Lord God!”
[17] Hand (old English).
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