One Christmas eve Joel Baker was in a most unhappy mood. He was
lonesome and miserable; the chimes making merry Christmas music outside
disturbed rather than soothed him, the jingle of the sleigh-bells
fretted him, and the shrill whistling of the wind around the corners of
the house and up and down the chimney seemed to grate harshly on his
ears.
"Humph," said Joel, wearily, "Christmas is nothin' to me; there _was_ a
time when it meant a great deal, but that was long ago--fifty years is
a long stretch to look back over. There is nothin' in Christmas now,
nothin' for _me_ at least; it is so long since Santa Claus remembered
me that I venture to say he has forgotten that there ever was such a
person as Joel Baker in all the world. It used to be different; Santa
Claus _used_ to think a great deal of me when I was a boy. Ah!
Christmas nowadays ain't what it was in the good old time--no, not what
it used to be."
As Joel was absorbed in his distressing thoughts he became aware very
suddenly that somebody was entering or trying to enter the room. First
came a draft of cold air, then a scraping, grating sound, then a
strange shuffling, and then,--yes, then, all at once, Joel saw a pair
of fat legs and a still fatter body dangle down the chimney, followed
presently by a long white beard, above which appeared a jolly red nose
and two bright twinkling eyes, while over the head and forehead was
drawn a fur cap, white with snowflakes.
"Ha, ha," chuckled the fat, jolly stranger, emerging from the chimney
and standing well to one side of the hearthstone; "ha, ha, they don't
have the big, wide chimneys they used to build, but they can't keep
Santa Claus out--no, they can't keep Santa Claus out! Ha, ha, ha.
Though the chimney were no bigger than a gas pipe, Santa Claus would
slide down it!"
It didn't require a second glance to assure Joel that the new-comer was
indeed Santa Claus. Joel knew the good old saint--oh, yes--and he had
seen him once before, and, although that was when Joel was a little
boy, he had never forgotten how Santa Claus looked.
Nor had Santa Claus forgotten Joel, although Joel thought he had; for
now Santa Claus looked kindly at Joel and smiled and said: "Merry
Christmas to you, Joel!"
"Thank you, old Santa Claus," replied Joel, "but I don't believe it's
going to be a very merry Christmas. It's been so long since I 've had
a merry Christmas that I don't believe I 'd know how to act if I had
one."
"Let's see," said Santa Claus, "it must be going on fifty years since I
saw you last--yes, you were eight years old the last time I slipped
down the chimney of the old homestead and filled your stocking. Do you
remember it?"
"I remember it well," answered Joel. "I had made up my mind to lie
awake and see Santa Claus; I had heard tell of you, but I 'd never seen
you, and Brother Otis and I concluded we 'd lie awake and watch for you
to come."
Santa Claus shook his head reproachfully. "That was very wrong," said
he, "for I 'm so scarey that if I 'd known you boys were awake I 'd
never have come down the chimney at all, and then you 'd have had no
presents."
"But Otis could n't keep awake," explained Joel. "We talked about
everythin' we could think of, till father called out to us that if we
did n't stop talking he 'd have to send one of us up into the attic to
sleep with the hired man. So in less than five minutes Otis was sound
asleep and no pinching could wake him up. But _I_ was bound to see
Santa Claus and I don't believe anything would 've put me to sleep. I
heard the big clock in the sitting-room strike eleven, and I had begun
wonderin' if you never were going to come, when all of a sudden I heard
the tinkle of the bells around your reindeers' necks. Then I heard the
reindeers prancin' on the roof and the sound of your sleigh-runners
cuttin' through the crust and slippin' over the shingles. I was kind
o' scared and I covered my head up with the sheet and quilts--only I
left a little hole so I could peek out and see what was goin' on. As
soon as I saw you I got over bein' scared--for you were jolly and
smilin' like, and you chuckled as you went around to each stockin' and
filled it up."
"Yes, I can remember the night," said Santa Claus. "I brought you a
sled, did n't I?"
"Yes, and you brought Otis one, too," replied Joel. "Mine was red and
had 'Yankee Doodle' painted in black letters on the side; Otis' was
black and had 'Snow Queen' in gilt letters."
"I remember those sleds distinctly," said Santa Claus, "for I made them
specially for you boys."
"You set the sleds up against the wall," continued Joel, "and then you
filled the stockin's."
"There were six of 'em, as I recollect?" said Santa Claus.
"Let me see," queried Joel. "There was mine, and Otis', and Elvira's,
and Thankful's, and Susan Prickett's--Susan was our help, you know.
No, there were only five, and, as I remember, they were the biggest we
could beg or borrer of Aunt Dorcas, who weighed nigh unto two hundred
pounds. Otis and I did n't like Susan Prickett, and we were hopin' you
'd put a cold potato in her stockin'."
"But Susan was a good girl," remonstrated Santa Claus. "You know I put
cold potatoes only in the stockin's of boys and girls who are bad and
don't believe in Santa Claus."
"At any rate," said Joel, "you filled all the stockin's with candy and
pop-corn and nuts and raisins, and I can remember you said you were
afraid you 'd run out of pop-corn balls before you got around. Then
you left each of us a book. Elvira got the best one, which was 'The
Garland of Frien'ship,' and had poems in it about the bleeding of
hearts, and so forth. Father was n't expectin' anything, but you left
him a new pair of mittens, and mother got a new fur boa to wear to
meetin'."
"Of course," said Santa Claus, "I never forgot father and mother."
"Well, it was as much as I could do to lay still," continued Joel, "for
I 'd been longin' for a sled, an' the sight of that red sled with
'Yankee Doodle' painted on it jest made me wild. But, somehow or
other, I began to get powerful sleepy all at once, and I could n't keep
my eyes open. The next thing I knew Otis was nudgin' me in the ribs.
'Git up, Joel,' says he; 'it's Chris'mas an' Santa Claus has been
here.' 'Merry Christ'mas! Merry Chris'mas!' we cried as we tumbled
out o' bed. Then Elvira an' Thankful came in, not more 'n half
dressed, and Susan came in, too, an' we just made Rome howl with 'Merry
Chris'mas! Merry Chris'mas!' to each other. 'Ef you children don't
make less noise in there,' cried father, 'I'll hev to send you all back
to bed.' The idea of askin' boys an' girls to keep quiet on Chris'mas
mornin' when they 've got new sleds an' 'Garlands of Frien'ship'!"
Santa Claus chuckled; his rosy cheeks fairly beamed joy.
"Otis an' I did n't want any breakfast," said Joel. "We made up our
minds that a stockin'ful of candy and pop-corn and raisins would stay
us for a while. I do believe there was n't buckwheat cakes enough in
the township to keep us indoors that mornin'; buckwheat cakes don't
size up much 'longside of a red sled with 'Yankee Doodle' painted onto
it and a black sled named 'Snow Queen.' _We_ did n't care how cold it
was--so much the better for slidin' down hill! All the boys had new
sleds--Lafe Dawson, Bill Holbrook, Gum Adams, Rube Playford, Leander
Merrick, Ezra Purple--all on 'em had new sleds excep' Martin Peavey,
and he said he calculated Santa Claus had skipped him this year 'cause
his father had broke his leg haulin' logs from the Pelham woods and had
been kep' indoors six weeks. But Martin had his ol' sled, and he
didn't hev to ask any odds of any of us, neither."
"I brought Martin a sled the _next_ Christmas," said Santa Claus.
"Like as not--but did you ever slide down hill, Santa Claus? I don't
mean such hills as they hev out here in this _new_ country, but one of
them old-fashioned New England hills that was made 'specially for boys
to slide down, full of bumpers an' thank-ye-marms, and about ten times
longer comin' up than it is goin' down! The wind blew in our faces and
almos' took our breath away. 'Merry Chris'mas to ye, little boys!' it
seemed to say, and it untied our mufflers an' whirled the snow in our
faces, just as if it was a boy, too, an' wanted to play with us. An
ol' crow came flappin' over us from the corn field beyond the meadow.
He said: 'Caw, caw,' when he saw my new sled--I s'pose he 'd never seen
a red one before. Otis had a hard time with _his_ sled--the black
one--an' he wondered why it would n't go as fast as mine would. 'Hev
you scraped the paint off'n the runners?' asked Wralsey Goodnow.
'Course I hev,' said Otis; 'broke my own knife an' Lute Ingraham's
a-doin' it, but it don't seem to make no dif'rence--the darned ol'
thing won't go!' Then, what did Simon Buzzell say but that, like 's
not, it was because Otis's sled's name was 'Snow Queen.' 'Never did
see a girl sled that was worth a cent, anyway,' sez Simon. Well, now,
that jest about broke Otis up in business. 'It ain't a girl sled,' sez
he, 'and its name ain't "Snow Queen"! I'm a-goin' to call it "Dan'l
Webster," or "Ol'ver Optic," or "Sheriff Robbins," or after some other
big man!' An' the boys plagued him so much about that pesky girl sled
that he scratched off the name, an', as I remember, it _did_ go better
after that!
"About the only thing," continued Joel, "that marred the harmony of the
occasion, as the editor of the 'Hampshire County Phoenix' used to say,
was the ashes that Deacon Morris Frisbie sprinkled out in front of his
house. He said he was n't going to have folks breakin' their necks
jest on account of a lot of frivolous boys that was goin' to the
gallows as fas' as they could! Oh, how we hated him! and we 'd have
snowballed him, too, if we had n't been afraid of the constable that
lived next door. But the ashes did n't bother us much, and every time
we slid sidesaddle we 'd give the ashes a kick, and that sort of
scattered 'em."
The bare thought of this made Santa Claus laugh.
"Goin' on about nine o'clock," said Joel, "the girls come along--Sister
Elvira an' Thankful, Prudence Tucker, Belle Yocum, Sophrone Holbrook,
Sis Hubbard, an' Marthy Sawyer. Marthy's brother Increase wanted her
to ride on _his_ sled, but Marthy allowed that a red sled was her
choice every time. 'I don't see how I 'm goin' to hold on,' said
Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin' my things from
blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,' sez I, 'for if
you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll manage not to
lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could see you now,
with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes all bright and
sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems, too, as if I could
hear you laughin' an' callin', jist as you did as I toiled up the old
New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a callin': 'Joel, Joel,
Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long and steep,
Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he 's old, an' gray, an'
feeble, but there 's love an' faith in his heart, an' they kind o' keep
him totterin' tow'rds the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel, Joel, Joel!'"
"I know--I see it all," murmured Santa Claus, very softly.
"Oh, that was so long ago," sighed Joel; "so very long ago! And I've
had no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'
mine--you remember him, Santa Claus?"
"Yes," said Santa Claus, "a toddling little boy with blue eyes--"
"Like his mother," interrupted Joel; "an' he was like her, too--so
gentle an' lovin', only we called him Joel, for that was my father's
name and it kind o' run in the fam'ly. He wa' n't more 'n three years
old when you came with your Chris'mas presents for him, Santa Claus.
We had told him about you, and he used to go to the chimney every night
and make a little prayer about what he wanted you to bring him. And
you brought 'em, too--a stick-horse, an' a picture-book, an' some
blocks, an' a drum--they 're on the shelf in the closet there, and his
little Chris'mas stockin' with 'em--I 've saved 'em all, an' I 've
taken 'em down an' held 'em in my hands, oh, so many times!"
"But when I came again," said Santa Claus--
"His little bed was empty, an' I was alone. It killed his
mother--Marthy was so tender-hearted; she kind o' drooped an' pined
after that. So now they 've been asleep side by side in the
buryin'-ground these thirty years.
"That's why I 'm so sad-like whenever Chris'mas comes," said Joel,
after a pause. "The thinkin' of long ago makes me bitter almost. It's
so different now from what it used to be."
"No, Joel, oh, no," said Santa Claus. "'T is the same world, and human
nature is the same and always will be. But Christmas is for the little
folks, and you, who are old and grizzled now, must know it and love it
only through the gladness it brings the little ones."
"True," groaned Joel; "but how may I know and feel this gladness when I
have no little stocking hanging in my chimney corner--no child to
please me with his prattle? See, I am alone."
"No, you 're not alone, Joel," said Santa Claus. "There are children
in this great city who would love and bless you for your goodness if
you but touched their hearts. Make them happy, Joel; send by me this
night some gift to the little boy in the old house yonder--he is poor
and sick; a simple toy will fill his Christmas with gladness."
"His little sister, too--take _her_ some present," said Joel; "make
them happy for me, Santa Claus--you are right--make them happy for me."
How sweetly Joel slept! When he awoke, the sunlight streamed in
through the window and seemed to bid him a merry Christmas. How
contented and happy Joel felt! It must have been the talk with Santa
Claus that did it all; he had never known a sweeter sense of peace. A
little girl came out of the house over the way. She had a new doll in
her arms, and she sang a merry little song and she laughed with joy as
she skipped along the street. Ay, and at the window sat the little
sick boy, and the toy Santa Claus left him seemed to have brought him
strength and health, for his eyes sparkled and his cheeks glowed, and
it was plain to see his heart was full of happiness.
And, oh! how the chimes did ring out, and how joyfully they sang their
Christmas carol that morning! They sang of Bethlehem and the manger
and the Babe; they sang of love and charity, till all the Christmas air
seemed full of angel voices.
Carol of the Christmas morn--
Carol of the Christ-child born--
Carol to the list'ning sky
Till it echoes back again
"Glory be to God on high,
Peace on earth, good will tow'rd men!"
So all this music--the carol of the chimes, the sound of children's
voices, the smile of the poor little boy over the way--all this sweet
music crept into Joel's heart that Christmas morning; yes, and with
these sweet, holy influences came others so subtile and divine that, in
its silent communion with them, Joel's heart cried out amen and amen to
the glory of the Christmas time.