YULE-TIDE
"I'LL bring you a gingerbread goat," said Sigrid to little Anders as
she started for the Christmas market with her mother.
"Next year you shall go too, my son," said Mrs. Lund. She kissed the
little lad, who was trying to look brave because he must stay at home.
From the nursery window, he watched them as far as he could see down
the long avenue. Behind Sigrid and her mother, a cheery-faced housemaid
followed at a respectful distance. She carried a huge market-basket.
"Just think, mother. There are only three days before Christmas. Won't
it be jolly to see grandma and Aunt Frederika and all the cousins?"
said Sigrid, who was dancing along beside her mother.
"Yes, indeed. They will all be here by to-morrow night," replied the
mother.
"What crowds of people are on the street," said the child, as they
wound their way through the good-natured throngs.
"Most of them are bound for the same place that we are," laughed Mrs.
Lund, who was rosy-cheeked and flaxen-haired like Sigrid.
"When we come to the big open space at the top of this hill, where all
the booths are, you must keep very close to my side, for you might
easily lose me."
"I never saw so many little booths before," said Sigrid. "I like their
white roofs, for they look like snow. Do they always have the Christmas
market on this hilltop?"
"Yes, for hundreds of years the peasants have been allowed to build
their shelters here and sell their Christmas wares. In some places,
for months, the whole family has been carving, knitting, weaving, and
sewing all these things that we shall see as we walk along," replied
Mrs. Lund.
"I see a booth with lots of little gingerbread pigs and goats. May I
buy one for Anders, over there?" asked Sigrid.
"In a minute. But first I must get some of old Brita's knitted caps for
some poor children I know."
They halted in front of one of these booths, which have a few rough
boards for a roof and a narrow counter. Here was an old peasant woman,
so wrapped up in warm clothes that you could scarcely see her pleasant,
wrinkled face. A black shawl was tied over her head, and a second
dark woolen shawl was crossed over her breast and tied behind. Her
petticoats were so heavily wadded that you wondered how she ever walked
at all.
"Doesn't she look funny, mother?" whispered Sigrid, who was clinging
to her mother's hand.
"Speak low, child," said Mrs. Lund. "I would not have you hurt the old
creature's feelings. It is bitter cold standing here all day. She needs
all her warm clothes. As long ago as when I was a child, she came here
to sell these garments that she knits and crochets all summer.
"I think that must be King Oscar's sleigh which has just come up the
hill," said Sigrid as they turned away from Brita's booth.
"Sure enough. He is making his annual visit to the Christmas market.
Let us stand here and watch him for a minute."
Just then the big Christmas crowd burst into a shout: "Long live King
Oscar!" The white-haired old gentleman, who is so tall and stately that
you would notice him anywhere, bowed graciously to his people.
"Would he ask me what I wanted for Christmas, if I stood near him?"
asked Sigrid.
"No, he asks only the poor little children who don't look as though
they would have a tree at home," replied Mrs. Lund. "Ah, he is talking
to that ragged little fellow who watched us buy the accordion for Karl.
By and by, his servant will buy a lot of things and give them to the
children. He is a kind-hearted man as well as a good king."
"Hear all those birds singing!" exclaimed the child.
"Listen again and see if you cannot tell where they are," said Mrs.
Lund.
"Why, I believe they are cuckoo whistles, only I never heard so many
all at once," cried Sigrid.
"Suppose we go over and buy two or three," said Mrs. Lund. They
threaded their way to the booth where these cheap little clay birds
were so popular.
The buxom maid was loaded with bundles long before Sigrid wanted to go
home.
For the next two days, there was a great stir all over the house.
Everything that could be washed and scoured was made clean and radiant.
All the family were making presents. Oh, such mystery everywhere!
"There, Miss Eklund," said Sigrid. "I have finished the cozy. Now
I want some more red sealing-wax. I have helped Anders wrap up his
presents, and mine are almost ready."
"Have you fastened on your rhymes?" asked Miss Eklund.
"All except the one for Aunt Frederika's present. I cannot seem to
think of a verse for her," was the reply.
"You must be sure and have a pretty verse for your dear aunt, who has
come way from Göteborg. Perhaps I can help you later."
Miss Eklund left her little charge labouring with pencil and paper.
Sigrid would never think her Christmas gifts complete without a verse
for each one.
"Here come father and Erik with the tree," shouted Anders.
"Isn't this a beauty?" inquired Erik, as he and his father rested for a
minute.
"Did you get it in the Christmas market, father? Mother and I saw a
whole forest of little Christmas trees there," said Sigrid.
"Yes," replied Major Lund. "I wanted to take you children out in the
country and cut it down myself. Sometime, when we have Christmas at
grandmother's, that's what we will do. Then you all shall help choose
the tree before I cut it.
"No one must go into the parlour now," he continued, as he carried
the tree through the doorway. "Mind you, not one peep till to-morrow
night." He shook his finger playfully at the children.
"I always like 'Dipping Day,'" said Sigrid, the day before Christmas,
to her brother Erik. "It is such fun to eat in the kitchen."
She was waiting for her turn to dip the piece of black bread on her
plate, into the kettle of sizzling hot fat. All the family, the
relatives who had come to spend the holidays and the servants, stood
about in the clean kitchen, eating the noonday meal. The walls fairly
gleamed with copper and brass pans and kettles. Even the brick oven had
a fresh coat of whitewash, in honour of the day. Every other little
Swedish girl over the land was eating her dinner in the kitchen on that
day, just as Sigrid was doing.
In the centre of the room, a long table was loaded with good things to
eat. And here was the big kettle in which the Christmas ham and other
meats had been cooked.
Later in the afternoon, when the children returned from a brisk walk
in the park, they gathered in the nursery for afternoon coffee. How
Sigrid loved this coffee-drinking on Christmas Eve! All the grown-up
people in Sweden drink a great deal of coffee. But Sigrid was seldom
allowed to have it except on a few holidays.
The children could hear the pleasant chatter of the older people, whose
coffee was served in the parlour. But they knew what was waiting for
them in the nursery.
On the little table there, a plate was prepared for each child with a
pyramid of different kinds of bread. Some of these rolls were in such
odd shapes that I am sure you would not call them bread at all. There
was black bread, white bread, saffron-coloured bread, some shaped
like little men and others like pigs and goats. Of course there were
gingerbread men, and even chocolate bread figures.
Each little mound had candy and nuts tucked away in the corners. The
kind of candy which Sigrid liked best was done up in a small package
with bright paper. Pictures and mottoes were pasted on the outside.
[Illustration: "A SHEAF OF GRAIN IS FASTENED UP IN THE YARD OF EVERY
COUNTRY HOME"]
I am afraid you will be getting as impatient for the Christmas tree as
Sigrid. But a Swedish Christmas is the most joyous season of the year.
And the merrymaking often lasts three weeks. Even the birds are not
forgotten, for a sheaf of grain is fastened up in the yard of every
country home for their Christmas dinner.
At last, the folding doors of the parlour were opened by invisible
hands. There stood the tree ablaze with candles and ornaments, but no
presents. For a moment every one was silent for the wonder of it.
Mrs. Lund began to sing the old carol, "Now the Christmas Has Come,"
and the others joined in.
After Major Lund had read the story of the Babe in the Manger, the
children caught hold of hands and danced about the tree. Round and
round they spun. In a wink, the circle broke and the long line of young
people went dancing in and out through the rooms of the house.
"Come and join us, father," they shouted. "Come, Aunt Frederika and
mother." Soon every one was drawn into the chain, even the servants in
the kitchen.
When they were out of breath with laughing, singing, and dancing, they
sat round a large table near the tree.
"What is all that noise about?" exclaimed Major Lund. He pretended to
be surprised. "Erik, there seems to be a great to-do outside the door.
Open it and see what is wanted."
Erik opened it a crack. In ran a little old man with a long white
beard. He wore a rough gray jacket, knee-breeches, and a tall, pointed
red cap.
"The Tomt, the Tomt," cried Sigrid.
"Is there any naughty child here, who doesn't deserve a present?"
asked the gnome. He hopped about and made a great deal of noise for a
small person.
Anders hid behind his mother's skirt. He was always a little afraid of
Tomt, who is much like our Santa Claus.
"No, we haven't any naughty children," replied the father.
"Then I shall leave some presents from my packet," cried Tomt. He
darted out into the hall and came back slowly tugging some large
packages. Then he vanished as quickly as he had come.
"Now, Erik, you may bring the baskets and help me give out the
presents," said Major Lund.
Beneath the low boughs of the fir-tree were several large baskets,
heaped with presents. Major Lund read aloud the verse on each neat
package before Erik passed it. Oh, such a heap of presents for each
and all! It was quite late in the evening before all the bundles were
opened. What a hand-shaking and kissing there was!
"I thought that looked like a foot-pusher when Tomt brought it in,"
said Sigrid, who shone with happiness over her new treasure.
"How proud I am of my children," said Mrs. Lund, as Sigrid and Erik
were thanking her for their gifts. "I am sure I had no idea you could
knit so well. I shall use the cozy for afternoon coffee to-morrow. And
the Viking ship tray is really beautiful, Erik."
Little children should have been abed and asleep when the family
finally sat down to their supper. But it was Christmas Eve, and
nobody minded. Among all the good things that Sigrid ate that night,
I must tell you about two dishes that every Swedish girl eats for her
Christmas supper,--lut-fisk and rice porridge. The big bowl of porridge
had a crisscrossing of powdered cinnamon over the top. Inside was one
almond. The person who found it would be the next one in the family to
be married.
For weeks, the Christmas lut-fisk--a kind of fish--had soaked in lye.
Then it was cooked a long time. Whenever Sigrid lifted a portion on her
fork, it fell apart in delicate flakes that were quite transparent.
"We must not forget to put out a dish of porridge and milk for Tomt
when he comes back in the night," said Erik, as the children were
getting ready for bed.
"I'll bring Anders' little chair from the nursery, because it is so low
Tomt can reach up to it," said Sigrid. "If I put it beside the kitchen
door, I am sure he will see it when he comes in."
Early the next morning,--oh, very, very early,--Anders crept
down-stairs to see if Tomt had been there.
"He drank all the milk and ate most of the porridge," cried Anders, in
great excitement. Then he ran back to let Miss Eklund finish dressing
him.
"It seems more like night than morning," exclaimed Erik. It was not six
o'clock, but the children were starting for church. Indeed, it could
not have been blacker at midnight. But in almost every window that
they passed two candles burned brightly. When they returned for their
breakfast, after the joyous Christmas service, the sun had not yet
risen.
For days the festivities continued.
"Please, mother, may we keep the tree till Knut's Day?" begged Anders
on New Year's afternoon. The candles had been relighted on the tree for
a party for some poor children. The last happy child had gone home,
loaded with goodies.
Mrs. Lund consented. But even Knut's Day, the thirteenth of January,
came all too soon. Then the children helped to "rob the tree," as the
Swedes say when they take off its pretty trinkets. They looked very
solemn as one of the maids carried the tree into the back-yard.
"Now Christmas is really over," mourned Erik, "and school begins
to-morrow."