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CHRISTMAS AT THE HOLLOW TREE INN[1] ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

Once upon a time, when the Robin, and Turtle, and Squirrel, and Jack Rabbit had all gone home for the winter, nobody was left in the Hollow Tree except the ’Coon and the ’Possum and the old black Crow. Of course the others used to come back and visit them pretty often, and Mr. Dog, too, now that he had got to be good friends with all the Deep Woods people, and they thought a great deal of him when they got to know him better. Mr. Dog told them a lot of things they had never heard of before, things that he’d learned at Mr. Man’s house, and maybe that’s one reason why they got to liking him so well.

He told them about Santa Claus, for one thing, and how the old fellow came down the chimney on Christmas Eve to bring presents to Mr. Man and his children, who always hung up their stockings for them, and Mr. Dog said that once he had hung up his stocking, too, and got a nice bone in it, that was so good he had buried and dug it up again as much as six times before spring. He said that Santa Claus always came to Mr. Man’s house, and that whenever the children hung up their stockings they were always sure to get something in them.

Well, the Hollow Tree people had never heard of Santa Claus. They knew about Christmas, of course, because everybody, even the cows and sheep, knows about that; but they had never heard of Santa Claus. You see, Santa Claus only comes to Mr. Man’s house, but they didn’t know that, either, so they thought if they just hung up their stockings he’d come there, too, and that’s what they made up their minds to do. They talked about it a great deal together, and Mr. ’Possum looked over all his stockings to pick out the biggest one he had, and Mr. Crow he made himself a new pair on purpose. Mr. ’Coon said he never knew Mr. Crow to make himself such big stockings before, but Mr. Crow said he was getting old and needed things bigger, and when he loaned one of his new stockings to Mr. ’Coon, Mr. ’Coon said, “That’s so,” and that he guessed they were about right after all. They didn’t tell anybody about it at first, but by and by they told Mr. Dog what they were going to do, and when Mr. Dog heard it he wanted to laugh right out. You see, he knew Santa Claus never went anywhere except to Mr. Man’s house, and he thought it would be a great joke on the Hollow Tree people when they hung up their stockings and didn’t get anything.

But by and by Mr. Dog thought about something else. He thought it would be too bad, too, for them to be disappointed that way. You see, Mr. Dog liked them all now, and when he had thought about that a minute he made up his mind to do something. And this is what it was—he made up his mind to play Santa Claus!

He knew just how Santa Claus looked, ’cause he’d seen lots of his pictures at Mr. Man’s house, and he thought it would be great fun to dress up that way and take a bag of presents to the Hollow Tree while they were all asleep and fill up the stockings of the ’Coon and ’Possum and the old black Crow. But first he had to be sure of some way of getting in, so he said to them he didn’t see how they could expect Santa Claus, their chimneys were so small, and Mr. Crow said they could leave their latchstring out downstairs, which was just what Mr. Dog wanted. Then they said they were going to have all the folks that had spent the summer with them over for Christmas dinner and to see the presents they had got in their stockings. They told Mr. Dog to drop over, too, if he could get away, and Mr. Dog said he would, and went off laughing to himself, and ran all the way home because he felt so pleased at what he was going to do.

Well, he had to work pretty hard, I tell you, to get things ready. It wasn’t so hard to get the presents as it was to rig up his Santa Claus dress. He found some long wool out in Mr. Man’s barn for his white whiskers, and he put some that wasn’t so long on the edges of his overcoat and boot tops and around an old hat he had. Then he borrowed a big sack he found out there, too, and fixed it up to swing over his back, just as he had seen Santa Claus do in the picture. He had a lot of nice things to take along. Three tender young chickens he’d borrowed from Mr. Man, for one thing, and then he bought some new neckties for the Hollow Tree folks all around, and a big striped candy cane for each one, because candy canes always looked well sticking out of a stocking. Besides all that, he had a new pipe for each, and a package of tobacco. You see, Mr. Dog lived with Mr. Man, and didn’t ever have to buy much for himself, so he had always saved his money. He had even more things than that, but I can’t remember just now what they were; and when he started out, all dressed up like Santa Claus, I tell you his bag was pretty heavy, and he almost wished before he got there that he hadn’t started with quite so much.

It got heavier and heavier all the way, and he was glad enough to get there and find the latchstring out. He set his bag down to rest a minute before climbing the stairs, and then opened the doors softly and listened. He didn’t hear a thing except Mr. Crow and Mr. ’Coon and Mr. ’Possum breathing pretty low, and he knew they might wake up any minute, and he wouldn’t have been caught there in the midst of things for a good deal. So he slipped up just as easy as anything, and when he got up in the big parlor room he almost had to laugh right out loud, for there were the stockings sure enough, all hung up in a row, and a card with a name on it over each one telling whom it belonged to.

Then he listened again, and all at once he jumped and held his breath, for he heard Mr. ’Possum say something. But Mr. ’Possum was only talking in his sleep, and saying, “I’ll take another piece, please,” and Mr. Dog knew he was dreaming about the mince pie he’d had for supper.

So, then he opened his bag and filled the stockings. He put in mixed candy and nuts and little things first, and then the pipes and tobacco and candy canes, so they’d show at the top, and hung a nice dressed chicken outside. I tell you, they looked fine! It almost made Mr. Dog wish he had a stocking of his own there to fill, and he forgot all about them waking up, and sat down in a chair to look at the stockings. It was a nice rocking chair, and over in a dark corner where they wouldn’t be apt to see him, even if one of them did wake up and stick his head out of his room, so Mr. Dog felt pretty safe now, anyway. He rocked softly, and looked and looked at the nice stockings, and thought how pleased they’d be in the morning, and how tired he was. You’ve heard about people being as tired as a dog; and that’s just how Mr. Dog felt. He was so tired he didn’t feel a bit like starting home, and by and by—he never did know how it happened—but by and by Mr. Dog went sound asleep right there in his chair, with all his Santa Claus clothes on.

And there he sat, with his empty bag in his hand and the nice full stockings in front of him all night long. Even when it came morning and began to get light Mr. Dog didn’t know it; he just slept right on, he was that tired. Then pretty soon the door of Mr. ’Possum’s room opened and he poked out his head. And just then the door of Mr. ’Coon’s room opened and he poked out his head. Then the door of the old black Crow opened and out poked his head. They all looked toward the stockings, and they didn’t see Mr. Dog, or even each other, at all. They saw their stockings, though, and Mr. ’Coon said all at once:

“Oh, there’s something in my stocking!”

And then Mr. Crow says: “Oh, there’s something in my stocking, too!”

And Mr. ’Possum says: “Oh, there’s something in all our stockings!”

And with that they gave a great hurrah all together, and rushed out and grabbed their stockings and turned around just in time to see Mr. Dog jump right straight up out of his chair, for he did not know where he was the least bit in the world.

“Oh, there’s Santa Claus himself!” they all shouted together, and made a rush for their rooms, for they were scared almost to death. But it all dawned on Mr. Dog in a second, and he commenced to laugh and hurrah to think what a joke it was on everybody. And when they heard Mr. Dog laugh they knew him right away, and they all came up and looked at him, and he had to tell just what he’d done and everything; so they emptied out their stockings on the floor and ate some of the presents and looked at the others, until they almost forgot about breakfast, just as children do on Christmas morning.

Then Mr. Crow said, all at once, that he’d make a little coffee, and that Mr. Dog must stay and have some, and by and by they made him promise to spend the day with them and be there when the Robin and the Squirrel and Mr. Turtle and Jack Rabbit came, which he did.

And it was snowing hard outside, which made it a nicer Christmas than if it hadn’t been, and when all the others came they brought presents, too. And when they saw Mr. Dog dressed up as Santa Claus and heard how he’d gone to sleep and been caught, they laughed and laughed. And it snowed so hard that they had to stay all night, and after dinner they sat around the fire and told stories. And they had to stay the next night, too, and all that Christmas week. And I wish I could tell you all that happened that week, but I can’t, because I haven’t time. But it was the very nicest Christmas that ever was in the Hollow Tree, or in the Big Deep Woods anywhere.

THE PROMISE[2] MAUD LINDSAY

There was once a harper who played such beautiful music and sang such beautiful songs that his fame spread throughout the whole land; and at last the king heard of him and sent messengers to bring him to the palace.

“I will neither eat nor sleep till I have seen your face and heard the sound of your harp.” This was the message the king sent to the harper.

The messengers said it over and over until they knew it by heart, and when they reached the harper’s house they called:

“Hail, harper! Come out and listen, for we have something to tell you that will make you glad.”

But when the harper heard the king’s message he was sad, for he had a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and he was sorry to leave them and they were sorry to have him go.

“Stay with us,” they begged; but the harper said:

“I must go, for it would be discourtesy to disappoint the king; but as sure as holly berries are red and pine is green, I will come back by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding, and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”

And when he had promised this he hung his harp upon his back and went away with the messengers to the king’s palace.

When he got there the king welcomed him with joy, and many things were done in his honor. He slept on a bed of softest down and ate from a plate of gold at the king’s own table; and when he sang everybody and everything, from the king himself to the mouse in the palace pantry, stood still to listen.

No matter what he was doing, however, feasting or resting, singing or listening to praises, he never forgot the promise that he had made to his wife and his child and his little brown dog, and when the day before Christmas came, he took his harp in his hand and went to tell the king good-by.

Now the king was loath to have the harper leave him, and he said to him: “I will give you a horse as white as milk, as glossy as satin, and as fleet as a deer, if you will stay to play and sing before my throne on Christmas Day.”

But the harper answered, “I cannot stay, for I have a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”

Then the king said, “If you will stay to play and sing before my throne on Christmas Day, I will give to you a wonderful tree that summer or winter is never bare; and silver and gold will fall for you whenever you shake this little tree.”

But the harper said, “I must not stay, for my wife and my child and my little brown dog are waiting for me, and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”

Then the king said, “If you will stay on Christmas Day one tune to play and one song to sing, I will give you a velvet robe to wear, and you may sit beside me here with a ring on your finger and a crown on your head.”

But the harper answered, “I will not stay, for my wife and my child and my little brown dog are watching for me; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding, and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.” And he wrapped his old cloak about him, and hung his harp upon his back, and went out from the king’s palace without another word.

He had not gone far when the little white snowflakes came fluttering down from the skies.

“Harper, stay,” they seemed to say,

“Do not venture out to-day.”

But the harper said, “The snow may fall, but I must go, for I have a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”

Then the snow fell thick and the snow fell fast. The hills and the valleys, the hedges and hollows were white. The paths were all hidden, and there were drifts like mountains on the king’s highway. The harper stumbled and the harper fell, but he would not turn back; and as he traveled he met the wind.

“Brother Harper, turn, I pray;

Do not journey on to-day,”

sang the wind, but the harper would not heed.

“Snows may fall and winds may blow, but I must go on,” he said, “for I have a wife and a child and a little brown dog; and I have promised them to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside.”

Then the wind blew an icy blast. The snow froze on the ground and the water froze in the rivers. The harper’s breath froze in the air, and icicles as long as the king’s sword hung from the rocks by the king’s highway. The harper shivered and the harper shook, but he would not turn back; and by and by he came to the forest that lay between him and his home.

The trees of the forest were creaking and bending in the wind, and every one of them seemed to say:

“Darkness gathers, night is near;

Harper, stop! Don’t venture here.”

But the harper would not stop. “Snows may fall, winds may blow, and night may come, but I have promised to be at home by Christmas Day to eat my share of the Christmas pudding and sing the Christmas songs by my own fireside. I must go on.”

And on he went till the last glimmer of daylight faded, and there was darkness everywhere. But the harper was not afraid of the dark.

“If I cannot see I can sing,” said he, and he sang in the forest joyously:

“Sing glory, glory, glory!

And bless God’s holy name;

For’t was on Christmas morning

The little Jesus came.

“He wore no robes. No crown of gold

Was on His head that morn;

But herald angels sang for joy

To tell a King was born.”

The snow ceased its falling, the wind ceased its blowing, the trees of the forest bowed down to listen, and lo! dear children, as he sang the darkness turned to wondrous light, and close at hand the harper saw the open doorway of his home.

The wife and the child and the little brown dog were watching and waiting, and they welcomed the harper with great joy. The holly berries were red in the Christmas wreaths; their Christmas tree was a young green pine; the Christmas pudding was full of plums; and the harper was happier than a king as he sat by his own fireside to sing:

“O glory, glory, glory!

We bless God’s holy name;

For’t was to bring His wondrous love

The little Jesus came.

“And in His praise our songs we sing,

And in His name we pray:

God bless us all for Jesus’ sake,

This happy Christmas Day.”

A BOY’S VISIT TO SANTA CLAUS[3] RICHARD THOMAS WYCHE

Once upon a time there was a little boy who talked a great deal about Santa Claus. He talked to his father, his mother, his brother and sisters, until it was Santa Claus at the breakfast table, Santa Claus at dinner, and Santa Claus at supper. This little boy had been told that far away in the Northland lived Santa Claus. He was sitting by the fire one day, watching the embers glow, and seeing castles in the glowing embers. “There is Santa Claus’s house,” he said, “the great building covered with snow. Why can’t I go to see him?”

The little boy had worked and had saved some money. He took the money and went down to the depot, bought a ticket, and before his father or mother knew about it was gone to see Santa Claus. He traveled a long time on the train, and by and by reached the end of the railroad. He could go no farther on the train, for there was a great wide ocean, but people crossed the ocean and so must the little boy, or at least a part of it, in order to reach Santa Claus’s land. There was a great ship lying in port soon to sail over the seas, and along with many people who went aboard the ship, went the little boy. Soon every sail was spread and out from the port went the ship, leaving far behind them the town.

The ship sailed and sailed a long time, and finally land came in sight. They had reached an island lying somewhere far out in the Mid seas. Some of the people went ashore, and so did the little boy. But what a funny land it was to the little boy! All the people were little people. The grown men were not taller than the little boy, and they rode little ponies that were not larger than dogs. Then the little boy asked, “What land is this? Does Santa Claus live here?” And they said, “No.

“This is the land that lies east of the sun

And west of the moon.

You have not come too soon.

Northward you must go,

To the land of ice and snow.”

And so one day the little boy found a ship that was going to sail to the Northland, and in this ship he went. The ship sailed and sailed a long time until it finally came to where the sea was all frozen over, to the land of icebergs and snow fields. The ship could go no farther, so what do you suppose the little boy did then? He was in the land of the reindeer, and over the snow fields he went in search of Santa Claus.

One day, as he was traveling over the snow fields to find Santa Claus’s house, he saw not far away what at first seemed to be a hill, but soon he saw that it was not a hill, but a house covered with ice and snow. “That must be Santa Claus’s house,” he said. Soon the little boy was standing in front of the great building whose towers seemed to reach the sky. Up the shining steps he went and soon he was standing in front of the door. The little boy saw no doorbell and so he knocked on the door. No one answered, and then louder he knocked again. Still no one answered. He began to feel afraid; perhaps this was the house of a giant. If Santa Claus lived there, he might be angry with him for coming, but once more he knocked. And then he heard a noise far down at the other end of the hall. Some one was coming. Then suddenly the latch went “click,” and the door stood wide open, and who do you suppose was there? Santa Claus? No; a little boy with blue eyes and a bright, sweet face. Then the little boy said, “Good morning. Does Santa Claus live here?” And the other little boy said, “Yes. Come in, come in. I am Santa Claus’s little boy.” He took him by the hand and said, “I am very glad to see you.”

Then the two little boys walked down the long hallway, doors on this side and doors on that, until they came to the last door on the left-hand side. On this door Santa Claus’s little boy knocked, and a great voice said, “Come in.” He opened the door and walked in, and who do you suppose was there? Santa Claus? Yes, there was Santa Claus himself; a great, big, fat man sitting by the fire, with long, white beard, blue eyes, and the merriest, cheeriest face you ever saw. Then Santa Claus’s little boy said, “Father, here is a little boy who has come to see you.” Santa Claus looked down over his spectacles and said, “Well, how are you? I am mighty glad to see you. Yes, yes, I know him. I have been to his house on many a night and filled up his stocking. How are Elizabeth and Louise and Katherine?” Over on the other side of the fireplace sat Mrs. Santa Claus. She was a grandmother-looking woman, with white hair and gold-rimmed spectacles. She was sitting by the fire knitting; she put her arms around the little boy and kissed him.

Then the two little boys sat down in front of the fire and talked together. By and by, Santa Claus’s little boy said to the other little boy, “Don’t you want to go over the building and see what we have in the different rooms? This building has a thousand rooms.” And the little boy said, “Who-o-o-oe.” And Santa Claus’s little boy said, “Yes, and something different in every room.”

Then they went into a large room, and what do you suppose was in there? Nothing but doll babies; some with long dresses and some with short; some with black eyes and some with blue. Then into another room they went, and it was full of toys, wagons and horses; another room was full of story books; another room was a candy kitchen where Santa Claus made candy; another room was a workshop where Santa Claus made toys for the children. Then they went into a long, large room, the largest of them all, and in this room were a great many tables. On these tables were suits, cloaks and hats, and shoes and stockings for the children.

The little boy wanted to know what they did with so many clothes, and Santa Claus’s little boy said, “We take these to the little children who have no father or mother to make them clothes.” And so they went through all the rooms of the great building, except one, which was away upstairs in the corner. What was in this room no one would tell the little boy, nor would they take him into the room. And the little boy wondered what was in the room.

The little boy stayed at Santa Claus’s house several days, and he had a splendid time. Some days the two little boys would slide down the hill on a sled, some days they would hitch up the reindeer and go sleighing, some days they would go into the candy kitchen and help Santa Claus make candy, or into the workshop and help him make toys.

But one day something happened. Santa Claus came to the little boy and said, “I am going away to-day for a little while; my wife and my little boy are going with me. Now,” he said, “you can go with us or you can stay here and keep house for us while we are gone.” The little boy thought to himself that Santa Claus had been so good to him that he would stay and keep house while Santa Claus was away. So he said he would stay, and then Santa Claus gave him a great bunch of keys and said, “Now you can go into all the rooms and play, but you must not go into that room upstairs in the corner.” The little boy said, “All right,” and with that Santa Claus, his wife, and his little boy went down the steps, got into the sleigh, wrapped themselves up in furs, popped the whip, and away they went! The little boy stood and watched them until they disappeared behind the snow hills.

Then he turned and went back into the house. He felt like a little man in that great house all by himself. From room to room he went. He went into the game room and rolled the balls. Some of the balls were so large that they were as high as the little boy’s head. They were of rubber, and if you would drop one from the top of the house it would bounce clear back to the top. The little boy went into the candy kitchen and ate some of the candy. He went into the workshop and worked on some toys, then into the library and read some of the books, then into the parlor and banged on the piano.

But after a while, the little boy was tired, and he said, “I wish Santa Claus would hurry and come back.” He was lonely. And so he thought he would go up on the housetop and look out to see if he could see Santa Claus coming home. Up the steps he went. When he reached the top, there was another flight. Up these he went and still another flight; up, up, he went until it seemed he had gone a thousand steps. But, finally, he came out on top.

The little boy stood there with his hand on the railing and looked out, but all he could see were the snow fields, white and glistening. Santa Claus was not in sight. He could see the track over the snow that the sleigh had made, but that was all.

Then down the steps he came, and it just happened that he came by the room that Santa Claus told him he must not go into. As he passed, he stopped in front of the door and said to himself, “I wonder what they have in that room, and why they did not want me to go in?” He took hold of the knob and gave it a turn, but the door was locked. Then he shut one eye and peeped through the keyhole, but he could see nothing; it was all dark. Then he put his mouth at the keyhole and blew through it, but he could hear nothing. Then he put his nose there and smelled, but he could smell nothing. “I wonder what they have in the room!” he said. “I believe I will see just for fun which one of these keys will fit in the lock.”

The little boy had in his hand the great bunch of keys. He tried one key and that would not fit, then he tried another and another and another, and kept on until he came to the last key. “Now,” he said to himself, “if this key does not fit I am going.” He tried it, and it was the only key on the bunch that would fit. “Now,” he said, “I shall not go into the room, but I will just turn the key and see if it will unlock the lock. It may fit in the lock and then not unlock the lock.” He turned the key slowly and the latch went “click, click,” and the door flew wide open. What do you suppose was in the room? It was all dark; the little boy could see nothing. He had his hand on the knob and it seemed to him that his hand was caught between the knob and key, and somehow, as the door opened, it pulled him in. When he stepped into the room, he felt a breeze blowing and, more than that, as he stepped down he found the room did not have any bottom; just a dark hole.

Well, as the little boy stepped over into the room, he felt himself falling, away down, down, down yonder. He shut his eyes, expecting every moment to strike something and be killed. But, before he did, some one caught him by the shoulders and shook him and said, “Wake up! Wake up!” He opened his eyes, and where do you suppose the little boy was? At home. It was Christmas morning, and his father was calling him to get up. The sun was shining across his little bed. He looked toward the fireplace, and there all the stockings were hanging full. The little boy had been to see Santa Claus, but he went by that wonderful way we call “Dreamland.”