Chapter 16

He's a jolly good fellow, but ever so shy, And likes to do all his good deeds on the sly, So there's no use spoiling a good winter's nap For you'll not catch a glimpse of the jolly old chap.

When Christmas Eve comes, into bed you must creep, And late in the night when you are asleep, He is certain to come; so your stockings prepare, And hang them up close by the chimney with care.

The baby's wee stockings you must not forget, For Santa will have something nice for the pet, And those who are thoughtful for others will find The good saint at Christmas time has them in mind.

There is Tommy, who tended the baby with care, A nice train of cars he shall have for his share, And how happy will Eliza be when she looks For her presents, and finds such a budget of books.

For dear little Mary, a doll there will be; And for Alice and Jenny a gay Christmas tree; And wee little Georgie, the baby, will find A big stick of candy, just suiting his mind.

Oh, a jolly good sight is this funny old chap When he's dressed in his bear-skin and fur-bordered cap, All ready to start on his way through the cold, In a sleigh covered over with jewels and gold.

While his deer from the mountains all harnessed with care, Like race-horses prance through the clear frosty air; 'Tis fun just to watch them, and hear the bells ring, And the stars seem to think it a comical thing.

For old Santa is bundled so close to the chin, That there is not a chance for the cold to get in, His cheeks are so rosy, his eyes how they flash! No horses nor driver e'er cut such a dash!

He cracks his long whip, and he whistles a tune, While he winks at the stars, and he bows to the moon, And over the tree-tops he drives like the wind, And leaves all the night-birds a long way behind.

His steeds speed away on a journey so fleet, That they seem to have wings to their swift-flying feet, For there's work to be done by a cheery old man, And his coursers will help him as well as they can.

His sleigh is with toys and trinkets well packed, You never beheld one with pleasures so stacked; And though of good children he has such a list, Not one is forgotten, not one will be missed.

An army he gives to the boy who is neat, And never is rude in the house or the street; And a farm to the lad who goes smiling to school, Who knows all his lessons and minds every rule.

And if you would please him--dear Bertie and Jack--; And win a nice prize from the old fellow's pack, Be good little children, your parents obey, And strive to be happy at work or at play.

At Christmas old Santa Claus toils like a Turk, For the cheery old fellow is fond of his work. With his queer looking team through the air he will go, And alight on the house-tops all covered in snow.

Then down through the chimneys he'll dart without noise And fill up the stockings with candy and toys. There'll be presents for Julia, and Nellie, and Jack, And plenty more left in the old fellow's pack.

And if Frank behaves well, and minds what is said, Quits teasing the cat and goes early to bed; He'll find for his present a sled or a gun, A ready companion in frolic and fun.

On Santa Claus hurries, and works with a will, For many tall Christmas trees he has to fill, And loads them with treasures from out his rich store, Till they blossom as trees never blossomed before.

Though round as a dumpling, and ever so fat, In running and climbing he's spry as a cat, And if the long ladder should happen to break, And he should fall down, what a crash it would make!

I told you his home was up North by the Pole, In a palace of hives lives this worthy old soul, And though out of doors it may furiously storm, Indoors as we know, it is sunny and warm.

When Christmas is over old Santa Claus goes To his home in the North, and his well-earned repose, And when he is rested and feeling tip-top, The good-natured workman goes back to his shop.

And there he will labor from morning till night, To make others happy his aim and delight, And if his good-will the dear children would earn, They must strive to be happy and good in return.

He comes like an angel of light from above, To do on the earth sweetest errands of love; And our hearts and our homes to so fill with good cheer That we cannot help knowing when Christmas is near.

Then let us be glad, so that Christmas may be A real Merry Christmas to you and to me! And now that the story is ended we'll give Three cheers for old Santa Claus! Long may he live!

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A Visit From St. Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in there beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced through their heads; And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, When out in the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash; The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below;

When what to my wondering eyes should appear But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled and shouted and called them by name; "Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the housetop the coursers they flew, With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too; And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound, He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack, His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf-- And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim ere he drove out sight; "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

Clement C. Moore

What Santa Claus Brings

Lovely little girls and boys, Santa brings all sorts of toys. Boxes filled with wooden bricks, Monkeys climbing yellow sticks.

Dollies' houses painted red, Tiny soldiers made of lead, Noah's Arks, and Ninepins too, Jack in boxes, painted blue.

Cups and Saucers, Pots and Pans, China figures, Chinese fans, Railway trains, with Tops and Tables, Fairy Tales and Aesop's Fables,

Clockwork Mice, and Coloured Marbles Painted Bird that sweetly warbles, Dolls of every age and size, With flaxen hair and moving eyes.

Cows and horses, Chickens, Cats, Rattles, Windmills, Boats and Bats, Ducks and Geese, and golden Fishes, Skipping ropes and copper Dishes.

Books and coloured pictures, too, And a thousand other things for you; Dainty maidens, merry boys, Santa brings all sorts of toys.

Little Mary

Dear little Mary, With eyes so blue, What has Santa Claus Brought for you?

He has brought me a cup, And a curly sheep, And a cradle where dolly May go to sleep.

The best of all Is this funny box That winds with a key Just like the clocks.

And when you've wound The spring up tight, The monkey dances With all his might,

And Fido barks And the puppies play: We're all very happy This Christmas day.

Christmas

Dainty little stockings Hanging in a row, Blue, and grey, and scarlet, In the firelight's glow.

Curly-pated sleepers Safely tucked in bed; Dreams of wondrous toy-shops Dancing through each head.

Funny little stockings Hanging in a row Stuffed with sweet surprises, Down from top to toe.

Skates, and balls, and trumpets, Dishes, tops, and drums, Books and dolls and candles, Nuts and sugar-plums.

Little sleepers waking: Bless me, what a noise! Wish you merry Christmas, Happy girls and boys!

The Nursery

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Christmas

When the children have been good, That is, be it understood, Good at meal-times, good at play, Good all night and good all day,-- They shall have the pretty things Merry Christmas always brings.

A Christmas Eve Adventure

Once on a time, in a queer little town, On the shore of the Zuyder Zee, When all the good people were fast asleep, A strange thing happened to me.

Alone, the night before Christmas, I sat by the glowing fire, Watching the flame as it rose and fell, While the sparks shot high and higher.

Suddenly one of these sparks began To flicker and glimmer and wink Like a big bright eye, till I hardly knew What to do or to say or to think.

Quick as a flash, it changed to a face, And what in the world did I see But dear old Santa Claus nodding his head, And waving his hand to me!

"Oh! follow me, follow me!" soft he cried,-- And up through the chimney with him I mounted, not daring to utter a word Till we stood on the chimney's rim.

"Now tell me, I beg you, dear Santa Claus, Where am I going with you?" He laughingly answered, "Why, don't you know? To travel the whole world through!

"From my crystal palace, far in the North, I have come since dark,--and see These curious things for the little folk Who live on the Zuyder Zee."

Then seating himself in his reindeer sledge, And drawing me down by his side, He whistled, and off on the wings of the wind We flew for our midnight ride.

But first, such comical presents he left For the little Dutch girls and boys,-- Onions and sausages, wooden-faced dolls, Cheeses and gingerbread toys!

Away we hurried far to the South, To the beautiful land of France; And there we showered the loveliest gifts,-- Flaxen-haired dolls that could dance.

Soldiers that marched at the word of command, Necklaces, bracelets and rings, Tiny gold watches, all studded with gems, And hundreds of exquisite things.

Crossing the Channel, we made a short call In Scotland and Ireland, too; Left a warm greeting for England and Wales, Then over the ocean we flew

Straight to America, where by myself, Perched on a chimney high, I watched him scramble and bustle about Between the earth and the sky.

Many a stocking he filled to the brim, And numberless Christmas trees Burst into bloom at his magical touch! Then all of a sudden a breeze

Caught us and bore us away to the South, And afterwards blew us "out West;" And never till dawn peeped over the hills Did we stop for a moment's rest.

"Christmas is coming!" he whispered to me, "You can see his smile in the sky,-- I wish Merry Christmas to all the world! My work is over,--good-bye!"

Like a flash he was gone, and I was alone,-- For all of this happened to me Once on a time, in a queer little town On the shore of the Zuyder Zee!

M. M.

Little Bennie

I had told him, Christmas morning, As he sat upon my knee, Holding fast his little stockings, Stuffed as full as can be, And attentive listening to me, With a face demure and mild, That old Santa Claus, who filled them, Did not love a naughty child.

"But we'll be good, won't we, moder?" And from off my lap he slid, Digging deep among the goodies In his crimson stockings hid. While I turned me to my table, Where a tempting goblet stood, Brimming high with a dainty custard, Sent me by a neighbour good.

But the kitten, there before me, With his white paw, nothing loth, Sat, by way of entertainment, Lapping off the shining froth; And, in not the gentlest humour At the loss of such a treat, I confess I rather rudely Thrust him out into the street.

Then how Bennie's blue eyes kindled; Gathering up the precious store He had busily been pouring In his tiny pinafore, With a generous look that shamed me Sprang he from the carpet bright, Showing, by his mien indignant, All a baby's sense of right.

"Come back Harney," called he loudly, As he held his apron white, "You shall have my candy wabbit;" But the door was fastened tight. So he stood, abashed and silent, In the centre of the floor, With defeated look, alternate Bent on me and on the door.

Then, as by some sudden impulse, Quickly ran he to the fire, And while eagerly his bright eyes Watched the flames grow high and higher, In a brave, clear key he shouted, Like some lordly little elf, "Santa Kaus, come down the chimney, Make my mother 'have herself."

"I'll be a good girl, Bennie," Said I, feeling the reproof; And straightway recalled poor Harney, Mewing on the galley roof. Soon the anger was forgotten, Laughter chased away the frown, And they gambolled 'neath the live oaks, Till the dusky night came down.

In my dim, fire-lighted chamber Harney purred beneath my chair, And my play-worn boy beside me Knelt to say his evening prayer: "God bess fader, God bess moder, God bess sister," then a pause, And the sweet young lips devoutly Murmured "God bess Santa Kaus."

He is sleeping: brown and silken Lie the lashes, long and meek, Like caressing, clinging shadows, On his plump and peachy cheek; And I bend above him, weeping, Thankful tears; O undefiled; For a woman's crown of glory, For the blessing of a child.

Annie C. Ketchum

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Old Santa Claus

Old Santa Claus sat alone in his den, With his leg crossed over his knee; While a comical look peeped out at his eyes, For a funny old fellow was he.

His queer little cap was tumbled and torn, And his wig it was all awry; But he sat and mused the whole day long, While the hours went flying by.

He had been busy as busy can be, In filling his pack with toys; He had gathered his nuts and baked his pies, To give to the girls and boys.

There were dolls for the girls, and whips for the boys, With wheelbarrows, horses and drays, And bureaus and trunks for Dolly's new clothes; All these in his pack he displays.

Of candy too, both twisted and striped, He had furnished a plentiful store, While raisins and figs, and prunes and grapes, Hung up on a peg by the door.

"I am almost ready," quoth he, quoth he, "And Christmas is almost here; But one thing more--I must write a book, And give to each one this year."

So he clapped his specs on his little round nose, And seizing the stump of a pen, He wrote more lines in one little hour Than you ever could write in ten.

He told them stories all pretty and new, And wrote them all out in rhyme; Then packed them away with his box of toys To distribute one at a time.

And Christmas Eve, when all were in bed, Right down the chimney he flew; And stretching the stocking-leg out at the top, He clapped in a book for you.

Santa Claus and the Mouse

One Christmas Eve, when Santa Claus Came to a certain house, To fill the children's stockings there, He found a little mouse.

"A merry Christmas, little friend," Said Santa, good and kind. "The same to you, sir!" said the mouse, "I thought you wouldn't mind

If I should stay awake to night, And watch you for a while." "You're very welcome, little mouse," Said Santa, with a smile.

And then he filled the stockings up, Before the mouse could wink,-- From toe to top, from top to toe, There wasn't left a chink.

"Now, they won't hold another thing," Said Santa Claus with pride. A twinkle came in mousie's eyes, But humbly he replied:

"It's not nice to contradict-- Your pardon I implore,-- But in the fullest stocking there, I could put one thing more."

"Oh, ho!" laughed Santa, "silly mouse! Don't I know how to pack? By filling stockings all these years, I should have learned the knack."

And then he took the stocking down From where it hung so high, And said: "Now put in one thing more; I give you leave to try."

The mousie chuckled to himself, And then he softly stole Right to the stocking's crowded toe, And gnawed a little hole!

"Now, if you please, good Santa Claus, I've put in one thing more; For you will own, that little hole Was not in there before."

How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh; And then he gaily spoke; "Well, you shall have a Christmas cheese, For that nice little joke."

A Nice Little Present

"Our Santa Claus," cried Bettie, "Is nice as any other; He brought the nicest present To me and to my mother.

"It was--oh, you can't guess it-- A darling little brother. He kicks and cries, and shuts his eyes, And he's sweet enough to eat.

"I'd rather have my baby brother Than dolls or candy--so would my mother."

The Night Before Christmas

Curly heads, so softly pillowed; Chubby arms outspread; Thousand fancies swiftly flying Through each little head.

Clasping treasures newly garnered, Dolly, book, and ball, Still they dream of coming pleasures Greater than them all.

Christmas-trees of gorgeous beauty, Filled with presents rare; Toys unheard of, joys unnumbered, All delights are there.

Angel forms, with smiling faces, Hover round the bed; Angel feet make echoing music As they lightly tread.

Angel voices, softly thrilling, Chant a lullaby: "Darlings, dream, and sweetly slumber, We are watching by."

Who from dreams like these would waken To a world of pain? "Hush, then, dear ones! Have we roused you? Turn and dream again."

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Annie And Willie's Prayer

'Twas the eve before Christmas; good night had been said, And Annie and Willie had crept into bed. There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes, And each little bosom was heaving with sighs;

For to-night their stern father's command had been given, That they should retire precisely at seven Instead of at eight; for they had troubled him more With questions unheard of than ever before.

He had told them he thought this delusion a sin; No such creature as "Santa Claus" ever had been; And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.

And this was the reason that two little heads So restlessly tosses on their soft, downy beds. Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten; Not a word had been spoken by either till then;

When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep, And he whispered: "Dear Annie, is 'ou fast asleep?" "Why, no, Brother Willie," a sweet voice replies; "I've long tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;

"For somehow it makes me so sorry because Dear Papa has said there is no Santa Claus. Now we know there is, and it can't be denied For he came every year before dear mamma died;

"But then, I've been thinking, that she used to pray,-- And God would hear everything dear mamma would say,-- And, maybe, she asked him to send Santa Claus here With the sack full of presents he brought every year."

"Well, why tannot we p'ay, dust as mamma did, den, And ask Dod to send him with presents aden?" "I've been thinking so, too;" and without a word more Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor,

And four little knees on the soft carpet pressed, And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast, "Now, Willie, you know, we must firmly believe That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive;

"You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,' And by that you will know that your turn has come then.-- "Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me, And grant us the favours we're asking of Thee.

"I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and a ring, And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring. Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see That Santa Claus loves us as much as does he.

"Don't let hem get fretful and angry again, At dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen." "Dear Desus, 'et Santa Taus tum down to night And bring us some p'esents before it is 'ight;

"I want he sood div' me a nice little sled, Wid bight shinin' 'unners, and all painted 'ed A box full of tandy, a book, and a toy, Amen. And den, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."

Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads, And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds; They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep, And with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.

Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten Ere the father had thought of his children again; He seems now to hear Annie's self-suppressed sighs, And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes.

"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said, "And should not have sent them so early to bed: But then I was troubled: My feelings found vent; For the bank-stock to-day has gone down two percent.;

"But of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this, And that I denied them the thrice-asked-for kiss; But just to make sure I'll steal up to their door-- To my darlings I have never spoke harshly before."

So saying, he softly ascended the stairs, And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers; His Annie's "Bless papa" drew forth the big tears, And Willie's grave promise fell sweet on his ears.

"Strange, strange! I'd forgotten," he said with a sigh, "How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, "By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."

Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down, Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing gown. Donned hat, coat and boots, and was out in the street, A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet!

Nor stopped he until he had bought everything, From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring: Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store, That the various presents outnumbered a score.

Then homeward he turned, when his holiday load, With Aunt Mary's help, in the nursery was stow'd. Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree, And the side of a table spread out for her tea;