"I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would be another
one!" exclaimed a discontented-looking little girl, as she sat idly
watching her mother arrange a pile of gifts two days before they
were to be given.
"Why, Effie, what a dreadful thing to say! You are as bad as
old Scrooge; and I'm afraid something will happen to you, as it did
to him, if you don't care for dear Christmas," answered mamma,
almost dropping the silver horn she was filling with delicious
candies.
"Who was Scrooge? What happened to him?" asked Effie, with a
glimmer of interest in her listless face, as she picked out the
sourest lemon-drop she could find; for nothing sweet suited her
just then.
"He was one of Dickens's best people, and you can read the
charming story some day. He hated Christmas until a strange dream
showed him how dear and beautiful it was, and made a better man of
him."
"I shall read it; for I like dreams, and have a great many
curious ones myself. But they don't keep me from being tired of
Christmas," said Effie, poking discontentedly among the sweeties
for something worth eating.
"Why are you tired of what should be the happiest time of all
the year?" asked mamma, anxiously.
"Perhaps I shouldn't be if I had something new. But it is
always the same, and there isn't any more surprise about it. I
always find heaps of goodies in my stocking. Don't like some of
them, and soon get tired of those I do like. We always have a great
dinner, and I eat too much, and feel ill next day. Then there is a
Christmas tree somewhere, with a doll on top, or a stupid old Santa
Claus, and children dancing and screaming over bonbons and toys
that break, and shiny things that are of no use. Really, mamma,
I've had so many Christmases all alike that I don't think I can
bear another one." And Effie laid herself flat on the sofa, as if
the mere idea was too much for her.
Her mother laughed at her despair, but was sorry to see her
little girl so discontented, when she had everything to make her
happy, and had known but ten Christmas days.
"Suppose we don't give you any presents at all,--how would
that suit you?" asked mamma, anxious to please her spoiled
child.
"I should like one large and splendid one, and one dear little
one, to remember some very nice person by," said Effie, who was a
fanciful little body, full of odd whims and notions, which her
friends loved to gratify, regardless of time, trouble, or money;
for she was the last of three little girls, and very dear to all
the family.
"Well, my darling, I will see what I can do to please you, and
not say a word until all is ready. If I could only get a new idea
to start with!" And mamma went on tying up her pretty bundles with
a thoughtful face, while Effie strolled to the window to watch the
rain that kept her in-doors and made her dismal.
"Seems to me poor children have better times than rich ones. I
can't go out, and there is a girl about my age splashing along,
without any maid to fuss about rubbers and cloaks and umbrellas and
colds. I wish I was a beggar-girl."
"Would you like to be hungry, cold, and ragged, to beg all
day, and sleep on an ash-heap at night?" asked mamma, wondering
what would come next.
"Cinderella did, and had a nice time in the end. This girl out
here has a basket of scraps on her arm, and a big old shawl all
round her, and doesn't seem to care a bit, though the water runs
out of the toes of her boots. She goes paddling along, laughing at
the rain, and eating a cold potato as if it tasted nicer than the
chicken and ice-cream I had for dinner. Yes, I do think poor
children are happier than rich ones."
"So do I, sometimes. At the Orphan Asylum today I saw two
dozen merry little souls who have no parents, no home, and no hope
of Christmas beyond a stick of candy or a cake. I wish you had been
there to see how happy they were, playing with the old toys some
richer children had sent them."
"You may give them all mine; I'm so tired of them I never want
to see them again," said Effie, turning from the window to the
pretty baby-house full of everything a child's heart could
desire.
"I will, and let you begin again with something you will not
tire of, if I can only find it." And mamma knit her brows trying to
discover some grand surprise for this child who didn't care for
Christmas.
Nothing more was said then; and wandering off to the library,
Effie found "A Christmas Carol," and curling herself up in the sofa
corner, read it all before tea. Some of it she did not understand;
but she laughed and cried over many parts of the charming story,
and felt better without knowing why.
All the evening she thought of poor Tiny Tim, Mrs. Cratchit
with the pudding, and the stout old gentleman who danced so gayly
that "his legs twinkled in the air." Presently bedtime
arrived.
"Come, now, and toast your feet," said Effie's nurse, "while I
do your pretty hair and tell stories." "I'll have a fairy tale
to-night, a very interesting one," commanded Effie, as she put on
her blue silk wrapper and little fur-lined slippers to sit before
the fire and have her long curls brushed.
So Nursey told her best tales; and when at last the child lay
down under her lace curtains, her head was full of a curious jumble
of Christmas elves, poor children, snow-storms, sugarplums, and
surprises. So it is no wonder that she dreamed all night; and this
was the dream, which she never quite forgot.
She found herself sitting on a stone, in the middle of a great
field, all alone. The snow was falling fast, a bitter wind whistled
by, and night was coming on. She felt hungry, cold, and tired, and
did not know where to go nor what to do.
"I wanted to be a beggar-girl, and now I am one; but I don't
like it, and wish somebody would come and take care of me. I don't
know who I am, and I think I must be lost," thought Effie, with the
curious interest one takes in one's self in dreams. But the more
she thought about it, the more bewildered she felt. Faster fell the
snow, colder blew the wind, darker grew the night; and poor Effie
made up her mind that she was quite forgotten and left to freeze
alone. The tears were chilled on her cheeks, her feet felt like
icicles, and her heart died within her, so hungry, frightened, and
forlorn was she. Laying her head on her knees, she gave herself up
for lost, and sat there with the great flakes fast turning her to a
little white mound, when suddenly the sound of music reached her,
and starting up, she looked and listened with all her eyes and
ears.
Far away a dim light shone, and a voice was heard singing. She
tried to run toward the welcome glimmer, but could not stir, and
stood like a small statue of expectation while the light drew
nearer, and the sweet words of the song grew clearer.
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Now the eastern star
Shines from afar
To light the poorest home;
Hearts warmer grow,
Gifts freely flow,
For Christmas-tide has come.
Now gay trees rise
Before young eyes,
Abloom with tempting cheer;
Blithe voices sing,
And blithe bells ring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Oh, happy chime,
Oh, blessed time,
That draws us all so near!
"Welcome, dear day,"
All creatures say,
For Christmas-tide is here.
A child's voice sang, a child's hand carried the little
candle; and in the circle of soft light it shed, Effie saw a pretty
child coming to her through the night and snow. A rosy, smiling
creature, wrapped in white fur, with a wreath of green and scarlet
holly on its shining hair, the magic candle in one hand, and the
other outstretched as if to shower gifts and warmly press all other
hands.
Effie forgot to speak as this bright vision came nearer,
leaving no trace of footsteps in the snow, only lighting the way
with its little candle, and filling the air with the music of its
song.
"Dear child, you are lost, and I have come to find you," said
the stranger, taking Effie's cold hands in his, with a smile like
sunshine, while every holly berry glowed like a little fire.
"Do you know me?" asked Effie, feeling no fear, but a great
gladness, at his coming.
"I know all children, and go to find them; for this is my
holiday, and I gather them from all parts of the world to be merry
with me once a year."
"Are you an angel?" asked Effie, looking for the wings.
"No; I am a Christmas spirit, and live with my mates in a
pleasant place, getting ready for our holiday, when we are let out
to roam about the world, helping make this a happy time for all who
will let us in. Will you come and see how we work?" "I will go
anywhere with you. Don't leave me again," cried Effie,
gladly.
"First I will make you comfortable. That is what we love to
do. You are cold, and you shall be warm, hungry, and I will feed
you; sorrowful, and I will make you gay."
With a wave of his candle all three miracles were
wrought,--for the snow- flakes turned to a white fur cloak and hood
on Effie's head and shoulders, a bowl of hot soup came sailing to
her lips, and vanished when she had eagerly drunk the last drop;
and suddenly the dismal field changed to a new world so full of
wonders that all her troubles were forgotten in a minute. Bells
were ringing so merrily that it was hard to keep from dancing.
Green garlands hung on the walls, and every tree was a Christmas
tree full of toys, and blazing with candles that never went
out.
In one place many little spirits sewed like mad on warm
clothes, turning off work faster than any sewing-machine ever
invented, and great piles were made ready to be sent to poor
people. Other busy creatures packed money into purses, and wrote
checks which they sent flying away on the wind,--a lovely kind of
snow-storm to fall into a world below full of poverty. Older and
graver spirits were looking over piles of little books, in which
the records of the past year were kept, telling how different
people had spent it, and what sort of gifts they deserved. Some got
peace, some disappointment, some remorse and sorrow, some great joy
and hope. The rich had generous thoughts sent them; the poor,
gratitude and contentment. Children had more love and duty to
parents; and parents renewed patience, wisdom, and satisfaction for
and in their children. No one was forgotten.
"Please tell me what splendid place this is?" asked Effie, as
soon as she could collect her wits after the first look at all
these astonishing things.
"This is the Christmas world; and here we work all the year
round, never tired of getting ready for the happy day. See, these
are the saints just setting off; for some have far to go, and the
children must not be disappointed."
As he spoke the spirit pointed to four gates, out of which
four great sleighs were just driving, laden with toys, while a
jolly old Santa Claus sat in the middle of each, drawing on his
mittens and tucking up his wraps for a long cold drive. "Why, I
thought there was only one Santa Claus, and even he was a humbug,"
cried Effie, astonished at the sight. "Never give up your faith in
the sweet old stones, even after you come to see that they are only
the pleasant shadow of a lovely truth."
Just then the sleighs went off with a great jingling of bells
and pattering of reindeer hoofs, while all the spirits gave a cheer
that was heard in the lower world, where people said, "Hear the
stars sing."
"I never will say there isn't any Santa Claus again. Now, show
me more."
"You will like to see this place, I think, and may learn
something here perhaps."
The spirit smiled as he led the way to a little door, through
which Effie peeped into a world of dolls. Baby-houses were in full
blast, with dolls of all sorts going on like live people. Waxen
ladies sat in their parlors elegantly dressed; black dolls cooked
in the kitchens; nurses walked out with the bits of dollies; and
the streets were full of tin soldiers marching, wooden horses
prancing, express wagons rumbling, and little men hurrying to and
fro. Shops were there, and tiny people buying legs of mutton,
pounds of tea, mites of clothes, and everything dolls use or wear
or want.
But presently she saw that in some ways the dolls improved
upon the manners and customs of human beings, and she watched
eagerly to learn why they did these things. A fine Paris doll
driving in her carriage took up a black worsted Dinah who was
hobbling along with a basket of clean clothes, and carried her to
her journey's end, as if it were the proper thing to do. Another
interesting china lady took off her comfortable red cloak and put
it round a poor wooden creature done up in a paper shift, and so
badly painted that its face would have sent some babies into
fits.
"Seems to me I once knew a rich girl who didn't give her
things to poor girls. I wish I could remember who she was, and tell
her to be as kind as that china doll," said Effie, much touched at
the sweet way the pretty creature wrapped up the poor fright, and
then ran off in her little gray gown to buy a shiny fowl stuck on a
wooden platter for her invalid mother's dinner.
"We recall these things to people's minds by dreams. I think
the girl you speak of won't forget this one." And the spirit
smiled, as if he enjoyed some joke which she did not see.
A little bell rang as she looked, and away scampered the
children into the red-and-green school-house with the roof that
lifted up, so one could see how nicely they sat at their desks with
mites of books, or drew on the inch-square blackboards with crumbs
of chalk.
"They know their lessons very well, and are as still as mice.
We make a great racket at our school, and get bad marks every day.
I shall tell the girls they had better mind what they do, or their
dolls will be better scholars than they are," said Effie, much
impressed, as she peeped in and saw no rod in the hand of the
little mistress, who looked up and shook her head at the intruder,
as if begging her to go away before the order of the school was
disturbed.
Effie retired at once, but could not resist one look in at the
window of a fine mansion, where the family were at dinner, the
children behaved so well at table, and never grumbled a bit when
their mamma said they could not have any more fruit. "Now, show me
something else," she said, as they came again to the low door that
led out of Doll-land. "You have seen how we prepare for Christmas;
let me show you where we love best to send our good and happy
gifts," answered the spirit, giving her his hand again.
"I know. I've seen ever so many," began Effie, thinking of her
own Christmases.
"No, you have never seen what I will show you. Come away, and
remember what you see to-night."
Like a flash that bright world vanished, and Effie found
herself in a part of the city she had never seen before. It was far
away from the gayer places, where every store was brilliant with
lights and full of pretty things, and every house wore a festival
air, while people hurried to and fro with merry greetings. It was
down among the dingy streets where the poor lived, and where there
was no making ready for Christmas.
Hungry women looked in at the shabby shops, longing to buy
meat and bread, but empty pockets forbade. Tipsy men drank up their
wages in the bar- rooms; and in many cold dark chambers little
children huddled under the thin blankets, trying to forget their
misery in sleep.
No nice dinners filled the air with savory smells, no gay
trees dropped toys and bonbons into eager hands, no little
stockings hung in rows beside the chimney-piece ready to be filled,
no happy sounds of music, gay voices, and dancing feet were heard;
and there were no signs of Christmas anywhere.
"Don't they have any in this place?" asked Effie, shivering,
as she held fast the spirit's hand, following where he led her. "We
come to bring it. Let me show you our best workers." And the spirit
pointed to some sweet-faced men and women who came stealing into
the poor houses, working such beautiful miracles that Effie could
only stand and watch.
Some slipped money into the empty pockets, and sent the happy
mothers to buy all the comforts they needed; others led the drunken
men out of temptation, and took them home to find safer pleasures
there. Fires were kindled on cold hearths, tables spread as if by
magic, and warm clothes wrapped round shivering limbs. Flowers
suddenly bloomed in the chambers of the sick; old people found
themselves remembered; sad hearts were consoled by a tender word,
and wicked ones softened by the story of Him who forgave all
sin.
But the sweetest work was for the children; and Effie held her
breath to watch these human fairies hang up and fill the little
stockings without which a child's Christmas is not perfect, putting
in things that once she would have thought very humble presents,
but which now seemed beautiful and precious because these poor
babies had nothing.
"That is so beautiful! I wish I could make merry Christmases
as these good people do, and be loved and thanked as they are,"
said Effie, softly, as she watched the busy men and women do their
work and steal away without thinking of any reward but their own
satisfaction.
"You can if you will. I have shown you the way. Try it, and
see how happy your own holiday will be hereafter."
As he spoke, the spirit seemed to put his arms about her, and
vanished with a kiss.
"Oh, stay and show me more!" cried Effie, trying to hold him
fast.
"Darling, wake up, and tell me why you are smiling in your
sleep," said a voice in her ear; and opening her eyes, there was
mamma bending over her, and morning sunshine streaming into the
room.
"Are they all gone? Did you hear the bells? Wasn't it
splendid?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, and looking about her for
the pretty child who was so real and sweet.
"You have been dreaming at a great rate,--talking in your
sleep, laughing, and clapping your hands as if you were cheering
some one. Tell me what was so splendid," said mamma, smoothing the
tumbled hair and lifting up the sleepy head. Then, while she was
being dressed, Effie told her dream, and Nursey thought it very
wonderful; but mamma smiled to see how curiously things the child
had thought, read, heard, and seen through the day were mixed up in
her sleep.
"The spirit said I could work lovely miracles if I tried; but
I don't know how to begin, for I have no magic candle to make
feasts appear, and light up groves of Christmas trees, as he did,"
said Effie, sorrowfully.
"Yes, you have. We will do it! we will do it!" And clapping
her hands, mamma suddenly began to dance all over the room as if
she had lost her wits.
"How? how? You must tell me, mamma," cried Effie, dancing
after her, and ready to believe anything possible when she
remembered the adventures of the past night.
"I've got it! I've got it!--the new idea. A splendid one, if I
can only carry it out!" And mamma waltzed the little girl round
till her curls flew wildly in the air, while Nursey laughed as if
she would die.
"Tell me! tell me!" shrieked Effie. "No, no; it is a
surprise,--a grand surprise for Christmas day!" sung mamma,
evidently charmed with her happy thought. "Now, come to breakfast;
for we must work like bees if we want to play spirits tomorrow. You
and Nursey will go out shopping, and get heaps of things, while I
arrange matters behind the scenes."
They were running downstairs as mamma spoke, and Effie called
out breathlessly,--
"It won't be a surprise; for I know you are going to ask some
poor children here, and have a tree or something. It won't be like
my dream; for they had ever so many trees, and more children than
we can find anywhere."
"There will be no tree, no party, no dinner, in this house at
all, and no presents for you. Won't that be a surprise?" And mamma
laughed at Effie's bewildered face.
"Do it. I shall like it, I think; and I won't ask any
questions, so it will all burst upon me when the time comes," she
said; and she ate her breakfast thoughtfully, for this really would
be a new sort of Christmas.
All that morning Effie trotted after Nursey in and out of
shops, buying dozens of barking dogs, woolly lambs, and squeaking
birds; tiny tea-sets, gay picture-books, mittens and hoods, dolls
and candy. Parcel after parcel was sent home; but when Effie
returned she saw no trace of them, though she peeped everywhere.
Nursey chuckled, but wouldn't give a hint, and went out again in
the afternoon with a long list of more things to buy; while Effie
wandered forlornly about the house, missing the usual merry stir
that went before the Christmas dinner and the evening fun.
As for mamma, she was quite invisible all day, and came in at
night so tired that she could only lie on the sofa to rest, smiling
as if some very pleasant thought made her happy in spite of
weariness.
"Is the surprise going on all right?" asked Effie, anxiously;
for it seemed an immense time to wait till another evening
came.
"Beautifully! better than I expected; for several of my good
friends are helping, or I couldn't have done it as I wish. I know
you will like it, dear, and long remember this new way of making
Christmas merry."
Mamma gave her a very tender kiss, and Effie went to
bed.
The next day was a very strange one; for when she woke there
was no stocking to examine, no pile of gifts under her napkin, no
one said "Merry Christmas!" to her, and the dinner was just as
usual to her. Mamma vanished again, and Nursey kept wiping her eyes
and saying: "The dear things! It's the prettiest idea I ever heard
of. No one but your blessed ma could have done it." "Do stop,
Nursey, or I shall go crazy because I don't know the secret!" cried
Effie, more than once; and she kept her eye on the clock, for at
seven in the evening the surprise was to come off.
The longed-for hour arrived at last, and the child was too
excited to ask questions when Nurse put on her cloak and hood, led
her to the carriage, and they drove away, leaving their house the
one dark and silent one in the row. "I feel like the girls in the
fairy tales who are led off to strange places and see fine things,"
said Effie, in a whisper, as they jingled through the gay
streets.
"Ah, my deary, it is like a fairy tale, I do assure you, and
you will see finer things than most children will tonight. Steady,
now, and do just as I tell you, and don't say one word whatever you
see," answered Nursey, quite quivering with excitement as she
patted a large box in her lap, and nodded and laughed with
twinkling eyes.
They drove into a dark yard, and Effie was led through a back
door to a little room, where Nurse coolly proceeded to take off not
only her cloak and hood, but her dress and shoes also. Effie stared
and bit her lips, but kept still until out of the box came a little
white fur coat and boots, a wreath of holly leaves and berries, and
a candle with a frill of gold paper round it. A long "Oh!" escaped
her then; and when she was dressed and saw herself in the glass,
she started back, exclaiming, "Why, Nursey, I look like the spirit
in my dream!"
"So you do; and that's the part you are to play, my pretty!
Now whist, while I blind your eyes and put you in your
place."
"Shall I be afraid?" whispered Effie, full of wonder; for as
they went out she heard the sound of many voices, the tramp of many
feet, and, in spite of the bandage, was sure a great light shone
upon her when she stopped.
"You needn't be; I shall stand close by, and your ma will be
there."
After the handkerchief was tied about her eyes, Nurse led
Effie up some steps, and placed her on a high platform, where
something like leaves touched her head, and the soft snap of lamps
seemed to fill the air. Music began as soon as Nurse clapped her
hands, the voices outside sounded nearer, and the tramp was
evidently coming up the stairs.
"Now, my precious, look and see how you and your dear ma have
made a merry Christmas for them that needed it!"
Off went the bandage; and for a minute Effie really did think
she was asleep again, for she actually stood in "a grove of
Christmas trees," all gay and shining as in her vision. Twelve on a
side, in two rows down the room, stood the little pines, each on
its low table; and behind Effie a taller one rose to the roof, hung
with wreaths of popcorn, apples, oranges, horns of candy, and cakes
of all sorts, from sugary hearts to gingerbread Jumbos. On the
smaller trees she saw many of her own discarded toys and those
Nursey bought, as well as heaps that seemed to have rained down
straight from that delightful Christmas country where she felt as
if she was again.
"How splendid! Who is it for? What is that noise? Where is
mamma?" cried Effie, pale with pleasure and surprise, as she stood
looking down the brilliant little street from her high place.
Before Nurse could answer, the doors at the lower end flew
open, and in marched twenty-four little blue-gowned orphan girls,
singing sweetly, until amazement changed the song to cries of joy
and wonder as the shining spectacle appeared. While they stood
staring with round eyes at the wilderness of pretty things about
them, mamma stepped up beside Effie, and holding her hand fast to
give her courage, told the story of the dream in a few simple
words, ending in this way:--
"So my little girl wanted to be a Christmas spirit too, and
make this a happy day for those who had not as many pleasures and
comforts as she has. She likes surprises, and we planned this for
you all. She shall play the good fairy, and give each of you
something from this tree, after which every one will find her own
name on a small tree, and can go to enjoy it in her own way. March
by, my dears, and let us fill your hands."
Nobody told them to do it, but all the hands were clapped
heartily before a single child stirred; then one by one they came
to look up wonderingly at the pretty giver of the feast as she
leaned down to offer them great yellow oranges, red apples, bunches
of grapes, bonbons, and cakes, till all were gone, and a double row
of smiling faces turned toward her as the children filed back to
their places in the orderly way they had been taught.
Then each was led to her own tree by the good ladies who had
helped mamma with all their hearts; and the happy hubbub that arose
would have satisfied even Santa Claus himself,--shrieks of joy,
dances of delight, laughter and tears (for some tender little
things could not bear so much pleasure at once, and sobbed with
mouths full of candy and hands full of toys). How they ran to show
one another the new treasures! how they peeped and tasted, pulled
and pinched, until the air was full of queer noises, the floor
covered with papers, and the little trees left bare of all but
candles!
"I don't think heaven can be any gooder than this," sighed one
small girl, as she looked about her in a blissful maze, holding her
full apron with one hand, while she luxuriously carried sugar-plums
to her mouth with the other.
"Is that a truly angel up there?" asked another, fascinated by
the little white figure with the wreath on its shining hair, who in
some mysterious way had been the cause of all this
merry-making.
"I wish I dared to go and kiss her for this splendid party,"
said a lame child, leaning on her crutch, as she stood near the
steps, wondering how it seemed to sit in a mother's lap, as Effie
was doing, while she watched the happy scene before her. Effie
heard her, and remembering Tiny Tim, ran down and put her arms
about the pale child, kissing the wistful face, as she said
sweetly, "You may; but mamma deserves the thanks. She did it all; I
only dreamed about it."
Lame Katy felt as if "a truly angel" was embracing her, and
could only stammer out her thanks, while the other children ran to
see the pretty spirit, and touch her soft dress, until she stood in
a crowd of blue gowns laughing as they held up their gifts for her
to see and admire.
Mamma leaned down and whispered one word to the older girls;
and suddenly they all took hands to dance round Effie, singing as
they skipped.
It was a pretty sight, and the ladies found it hard to break
up the happy revel; but it was late for small people, and too much
fun is a mistake. So the girls fell into line, and marched before
Effie and mamma again, to say goodnight with such grateful little
faces that the eyes of those who looked grew dim with tears. Mamma
kissed every one; and many a hungry childish heart felt as if the
touch of those tender lips was their best gift. Effie shook so many
small hands that her own tingled; and when Katy came she pressed a
small doll into Effie's hand, whispering, "You didn't have a single
present, and we had lots. Do keep that; it's the prettiest thing I
got."