Chapter IX: Part II: Stories to Read and Tell to Children (3)

“It is Mr. Ross, father. He took us into his house on Washington Mountain last night and treated us like princes, and this morning he has brought us home, and helped us in the heartiest way to carry out our fun.”

“Mr. Ross, we are greatly your debtors,” said Mr. Burnham. “You have relieved us of a sore anxiety, and brought us a great pleasure.”

“Wall, I dunno,” said the farmer. “I didn’t like to think o’ these ’ere children bein’ kep’ away from hum on Christmas Day; ’n’ ef I’ve helped ’em any way to hev a good time, why,--God bless ’em!--I don’t think there’s any better thing an old man like me could be doin’ on sech a day as this!”

Just here Mr. Burnham’s coachman came round the corner in great haste.

“Well, Patrick, what is it?” said his master.

“The shafts uv that sleigh--bad look to ’em!--is bruk, yer honor; ’n’ I don’t see how I’ll iver get thim bashkits carried round at all!”

“Oh, those baskets!” cried Mr. Burnham in distress. “Our Christmas baskets haven’t been delivered yet, and it’s almost eleven o’clock. The storm and our worry about you kept us from delivering them last night, and we have hardly thought of them this morning. I’m afraid those poor people will have a late Christmas dinner.”

“Baskets o’ stuff for poor folks’s dinners?” said Farmer Ross. “Let me take ’em round.”

“Oh, yes, father!” shouted Win. “Let Phil and me go with him! The baskets are marked, aren’t they? It’ll be jolly fun to deliver them out of this sled.”

In a minute the baskets--half a dozen of them--were loaded in, and within half an hour they were all set down at the homes to which they were addressed. Poor old Uncle Ned and Aunt Dinah hobbled to the door and took in their basket with eyes full of wonder at the strange vehicle that was just driving from their doors; the Widow Blanchard’s children, playing outside, ran into the house when they saw the ponies coming, but speedily came out after their basket and carried it in, firm in the faith that they had had a sight of the veritable Santa Claus. To all the rest of the needy families the gifts, though late, were welcome; and the bright vision of the evergreen bower on runners brought gladness with it into all those lowly homes.

Farmer Ross went back with the boys to their home; his ponies were taken from the sled and given a good Christmas dinner in Mr. Burnham’s stable; he himself was constrained to remain and partake of the feast that would not have been eaten but for him, and that lost none of its merriment because of him; and at length, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the Christmas car, stripped of its bravery, but carrying some goodly gifts to Mrs. Ross, started on its return to Washington Mountain.

My little friends who read this story will be glad to know that the Christmas festival at the church had been deferred on account of the storm from Christmas Eve to Christmas evening; so that the Burnhams had a chance to assist at the unloading of the Christmas tree.

They will also guess that Farmer Ross’s house and his barn and his orchard and his pasture and his woods and his trout brook and his blackberry bushes and his dog and his ponies and his cows and his oxen and his hens and pretty nearly everything that was his had a chance to get very well acquainted with Win and Phil during the next summer vacation. It will be a long time, I am sure, before the Rosses and the Burnhams cease to be friends, and before any of them will forget The Strange Adventures of a Wood Sled.

KIDNAPPING SANTA CLAUS

L. FRANK BAUM

Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the Ryls, Knooks, Pixies, and Fairies, live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one year’s end to another.

It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is happy and gay. The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps rollicking between its green banks; the wind whistles merrily in the trees; the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass, and the violets and wildflowers look smilingly up from their green nests. To laugh, one needs to be happy; to be happy, one needs to be content. And throughout the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus contentment reigns supreme.

On one side is the mighty forest of Burzee. At the other side stands the huge mountain that contains the caves of the Demons. And between them the valley lies smiling and peaceful.

One would think that our good old Santa Claus, who devotes his days to making children happy, would have no enemies on all the earth; and, as a matter of fact, for a long period of time he encountered nothing but love wherever he might go.

But the Demons who live in the mountain caves grew to hate Santa Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that he made children happy.

The caves of the Demons are five in number. A broad pathway leads up to the first cave, which is a finely arched cavern at the foot of the mountain, the entrance being beautifully carved and decorated. In it resides the Demon of Selfishness. Back of this is another cavern inhabited by the Demon of Envy. The cave of the Demon of Hatred is next in order, and through this one passes to the home of the Demon of Malice--situated in a dark and fearful cave in the very heart of the mountain. I do not know what lies beyond this. Some say there are terrible pitfalls leading to death and destruction, and this may very well be true. However, from each one of the four caves mentioned there is a small, narrow tunnel leading to the fifth cave--a cozy little room occupied by the Demon of Repentance. And as the rocky floors of these passages are well worn by the track of passing feet, I judge that many wanderers in the caves of the Demons have escaped through the tunnels to the abode of the Demon of Repentance, who is said to be a pleasant sort of fellow who gladly opens for one a little door admitting you into fresh air and sunshine again.

Well, these Demons of the caves, thinking they had great cause to dislike old Santa Claus, held a meeting one day to discuss the matter.

“I’m really getting lonesome,” said the Demon of Selfishness. “For Santa Claus distributes so many pretty Christmas gifts to all the children that they become happy and generous, through his example, and keep away from my cave.”

“I am having the same trouble,” rejoined the Demon of Envy. “The little ones seem quite content with Santa Claus, and there are few, indeed, that I can coax to become envious.”

“And that makes it bad for me!” declared the Demon of Hatred. “For if no children pass through the caves of Selfishness and Envy, none can get to my cavern.”

“Or to mine,” added the Demon of Malice.

“For my part,” said the Demon of Repentance, “it is easily seen that if children do not visit your caves they have no need to visit mine; so I am quite as neglected as you are.”

“And all because of this person they call Santa Claus!” exclaimed the Demon of Envy. “He is simply ruining our business, and something must be done at once.”

To this they readily agreed; but what to do was another and more difficult matter to settle. They knew that Santa Claus worked all through the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, preparing the gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve; and at first they resolved to try to tempt him into their caves, that they might lead him on to the terrible pitfalls that ended in destruction.

So the very next day, while Santa Claus was busily at work, surrounded by his little band of assistants, the Demon of Selfishness came to him and said:

“These toys are wonderfully bright and pretty. Why do you not keep them for yourself? It’s a pity to give them to those noisy boys and fretful girls, who break and destroy them so quickly.”

“Nonsense!” cried the old graybeard, his bright eyes twinkling merrily as he turned toward the tempting Demon; “the boys and girls are never so noisy or fretful after receiving my presents, and if I can make them happy for one day in the year I am quite content.”

So the Demon went back to the others, who awaited him in their caves, and said:

“I have failed, for Santa Claus is not at all selfish.”

The following day the Demon of Envy visited Santa Claus. Said he: “The toy shops are full of playthings quite as pretty as these you are making. What a shame it is that they should interfere with your business! They make toys by machinery much quicker than you can make them by hand; and they sell them for money, while you get nothing at all for your work.”

But Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops.

“I can supply the little ones but once a year--on Christmas Eve,” he answered; “for the children are many, and I am but one. And as my work is one of love and kindness I would be ashamed to receive money for my little gifts. But throughout all the year the children must be amused in some way, and so the toy shops are able to bring much happiness to my little friends. I like the toy shops, and am glad to see them prosper.”

In spite of this second rebuff, the Demon of Hatred thought he would try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he entered the busy workshop and said:

“Good morning, Santa! I have bad news for you.”

“Then run away, like a good fellow,” answered Santa Claus. “Bad news is something that should be kept secret and never told.”

“You cannot escape this, however,” declared the Demon, “for in the world are a good many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and these you are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so wronged you.”

“Stuff and rubbish!” cried Santa.

“And there are others who resent your making children happy, and who sneer at you and call you a foolish old rattlepate! You are quite right to hate such base slanderers, and you ought to be revenged upon them for their evil words.”

“But I don’t hate ’em!” exclaimed Santa Claus, positively. “Such people do me no real harm, but merely render themselves and their children unhappy. Poor things! I’d much rather help them any day than injure them.”

Indeed, the Demons could not tempt old Santa Claus in any way. On the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their object in visiting him was to make mischief and trouble, and his cheery laughter disconcerted the evil ones and showed to them the folly of such an undertaking. So they abandoned honeyed words and determined to use force.

It is well known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while he is in the Laughing Valley, for the fairies, and ryls, and knooks all protect him. But on Christmas Eve he drives his reindeer out into the big world, carrying a sleigh load of toys and pretty gifts to the children; and this was the time and the occasion when his enemies had the best chance to injure him. So the Demons laid their plans and awaited the arrival of Christmas Eve.

The moon shone big and white in the sky, and the snow lay crisp and sparkling on the ground as Santa Claus cracked his whip and sped away out of the valley into the great world beyond. The roomy sleigh was packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as the reindeer dashed onward our jolly old Santa laughed and whistled and sang for very joy. For in all his merry life this was the one day in the year when he was happiest--the day he lovingly bestowed the treasures of his workshop upon the little children.

It would be a busy night for him, he well knew. As he whistled and shouted and cracked his whip again, he reviewed in mind all the towns and cities and farmhouses where he was expected, and figured that he had just enough presents to go around and make every child happy. The reindeer knew exactly what was expected of them, and dashed along so swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to touch the snow-covered ground.

Suddenly a strange thing happened: a rope shot through the moonlight, and a big noose that was in the end of it settled over the arms and body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before he could resist or even cry out he was jerked from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled headforemost into a snowbank, while the reindeer rushed onward with the load of toys and carried it quickly out of sight and sound.

Such a surprising experience confused old Santa for a moment, and when he had collected his senses he found that the wicked Demons had pulled him from the snowdrift and bound him tightly with many coils of the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped Santa Claus away to their mountain, where they thrust the prisoner into a secret cave and chained him to the rocky wall so that he could not escape.

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Demons, rubbing their hands together with cruel glee. “What will the children do now? How they will cry and scold and storm when they find there are no toys in their stockings and no gifts on their Christmas trees! And what a lot of punishment they will receive from their parents, and how they will flock to our caves of Selfishness, and Envy, and Hatred, and Malice! We have done a mighty clever thing, we Demons of the Caves.”

Now, it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the good Santa Claus had taken with him in his sleigh Nuter the Ryl, Peter the Knook, Kilter the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk--his four favorite assistants. These little people he had often found very useful in helping to distribute his gifts to the children, and when their master was so suddenly dragged from the sleigh they were all snugly tucked underneath the seat, where the sharp wind could not reach them.

The tiny immortals knew nothing of the capture of Santa Claus until some time after he had disappeared, but finally they missed his cheery voice, and as their master always sang or whistled on his journeys, the silence warned them that something was wrong.

Little Wisk stuck out his head from underneath the seat and found Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight of the reindeer.

“Whoa!” he called out, and the deer obediently slackened speed and came to a halt.

Peter and Nuter and Kilter all jumped upon the seat and looked back over the track made by the sleigh. But Santa Claus had been left miles and miles behind.

“What shall we do?” asked Wisk, anxiously, all the mirth and mischief banished from his wee face by this great calamity.

“We must go back at once and find our master,” said Nuter the Ryl, who thought and spoke with much deliberation.

“No, no!” exclaimed Peter the Knook, who, cross and crabbed though he was, might always be depended upon in an emergency. “If we delay, or go back, there will not be time to get the toys to the children before morning; and that would grieve Santa Claus more than anything else.”

“It is certain that some wicked creatures have captured him,” added Kilter, thoughtfully; “and their object must be to make the children unhappy. So our first duty is to get the toys distributed as carefully as if Santa Claus were himself present. Afterward we can search for our master and easily secure his freedom.”

This seemed such good and sensible advice that the others at once resolved to adopt it. So Peter the Knook called to the reindeer, and the faithful animals again sprang forward and dashed over hill and valley, through forest and plain, until they came to the houses wherein children lay sleeping and dreaming of the pretty gifts they would find on Christmas morning.

The little immortals had set themselves a difficult task; for although they had assisted Santa Claus on many of his journeys, their master had always directed and guided them and told them exactly what he wished them to do. But now they had to distribute the toys according to their own judgment, and they did not understand children as well as did old Santa. So it is no wonder they made some laughable errors.

Mamie Brown, who wanted a doll, got a drum instead; and a drum is of no use to a girl who loves dolls. And Charlie Smith, who delights to romp and play out of doors, and who wanted some new rubber boots to keep his feet dry, received a sewing box filled with colored worsted and threads and 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.”