SANTA CLAUS NIGHT
IT was two weeks before Christmas. Carl had been back from his visit to
the mountain village for more than a month. No harm had come to him on
his way home, although heavy snow had fallen, which made hard walking.
It was worst of all in crossing the glacier, but the boy's uncle took
great care, and no accident came to either of them.
And now the joyful day had come which Carl liked best of all the year.
He had saved up money for months beforehand to buy presents for his
parents and his friend Franz.
What would he receive, himself? He thought sometimes, "I wonder if
father will buy me a rifle. He thinks I can shoot pretty well now, I
know that. But a rifle of my own! That would be too good to be true."
It was the custom of Carl's village to have the Christmas tree on Saint
Claus's Day, two weeks before the real Christmas Day. They did not wait
for the time at which we give the presents. Christmas was a holiday,
of course, but it was somewhat like Sunday; everybody went to church.
There was a sermon, and a great deal of music.
Saint Claus's Day was the time for fun and frolic. Good children looked
forward to that day with gladness; but the bad children! dear me! they
trembled for fear they would be carried off to some dreadful place by
Saint Claus's servant.
All the day before Carl was greatly excited. He could hardly wait for
night to come, but it did come at last. The supper-table was scarcely
cleared before a loud knocking and stamping of feet could be heard
outside.
Rudolf hurried to open the door, while Carl clapped his hands. Who
should enter but a jolly-looking old fellow with rosy cheeks and
twinkling eyes. He was dressed from head to foot in furs. Surely this
was Santa Claus himself. There was a great pack of goodies on his back.
Carl could see the red apples and bags of candy sticking out.
But who was the creature that followed Santa Claus? His face was black,
his clothes were black, everything about him was black as soot. He
carried a broom over his shoulder.
"This is my servant," said Santa in a big, strong voice. "I hope the
child in this house has been good. I just called at a place where there
was a boy who had not minded his mother. I was going to let my servant
carry him off, but he promised to be good, so I forgave him this time."
Santa Claus tried to scowl fiercely while he said these words.
"Have you been a good boy?" he cried, suddenly turning toward Carl.
"O, yes, sir, I have tried hard," answered the boy, who was half
afraid, although, somehow, this same Santa Claus spoke very much like a
friend of the family who lived near by.
"Very well, then." With this, Santa covered the floor with nuts and
fruit which he shook out of his pack. A party of men who had followed
him and his servant into the house, and were dressed up in all sorts of
funny ways, laughed and joked with Carl's father and mother.
After a few moments of fun, Santa Claus went away, first wishing the
boy and his parents good night and a merry day on the morrow. They had
many more calls to make before their work would be done, and they must
hurry on their way, they said.
When the door was closed, Carl said, "Father, I don't believe that is
the real Santa Claus; it is neighbour Hans, who has dressed up like
him. I knew his voice, too."
Carl danced around the room laughing, while his father and mother
laughed, too.
"When I was a little tot," Carl went on, "I used to be scared, I tell
you. I was afraid of doing naughty things all the year for fear mother
would tell Santa Claus, and his servant would then sweep me away with
his broom. Oh, I know better now." And Carl ran first to his father,
and then to his mother, and gave each of them a hearty kiss.
The next morning, when he came downstairs, there was the dearest little
fir-tree in the corner of the room, and under it lay some mittens and
stockings, besides the rifle for which Carl had hoped and longed.
"Santa Claus helped me get them," said Rudolf, and they all sat down to
breakfast laughing at the merry joke.