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The anthology 'The Greatest Christmas Novels, Tales & Poems (Illustrated)' offers a mesmerizing tapestry of winter wonders, weaving the timeless charm of traditional Christmas tales with the profound depths of literary classics. This collection spans a myriad of styles, from the poignant prose of historical narratives to enchanting fairy tales and stirring poetry, reflecting the rich literary legacy associated with the theme of Christmas. Delighting readers with works both heartwarming and thought-provoking, the anthology encompasses an eclectic mix of genres that capture the multifaceted spirit of the holiday season. Standout pieces evoke the magic and morality, nostalgia and novelty synonymous with this festive period, forming a harmonious celebration of Yuletide storytelling. Curated with contributions from a diverse array of literary icons'—ranging from the enchanting narratives of Hans Christian Andersen to the vibrant storytelling of Mark Twain'—this collection pays homage to the cultural and historical milieu from which these works emerged. The anthology honors the creative synergy of its contributors, uniting the insights of celebrated 19th and early 20th-century authors who have shaped the cultural consciousness of Christmas. Through their varied backgrounds and distinctive voices, these literary giants imbue the anthology with vivid portrayals and universal themes that resonate across cultures and generations. This curated volume invites readers on a journey through diverse landscapes of human experience, offering an unparalleled opportunity to engage with a spectrum of perspectives and literary traditions. 'The Greatest Christmas Novels, Tales & Poems (Illustrated)' stands as both an educational treasure and a festive delight, providing thoughtful reflections on the quintessential values of the season. Through its rich tapestry of narratives and lyrical verses, the anthology fosters a captivating dialogue among its esteemed contributors, promising an enlightening exploration for readers keen to immerse themselves in the literary and emotional depths of a cherished holiday. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - An Introduction draws the threads together, discussing why these diverse authors and texts belong in one collection. - Historical Context explores the cultural and intellectual currents that shaped these works, offering insight into the shared (or contrasting) eras that influenced each writer. - A combined Synopsis (Selection) briefly outlines the key plots or arguments of the included pieces, helping readers grasp the anthology's overall scope without giving away essential twists. - A collective Analysis highlights common themes, stylistic variations, and significant crossovers in tone and technique, tying together writers from different backgrounds. - Reflection questions encourage readers to compare the different voices and perspectives within the collection, fostering a richer understanding of the overarching conversation.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
These works are united by the season of Christmas as a lens for imagining generosity, renewal, and wonder. Across novels, short stories, and poems, authors as varied as Charles Dickens, L. Frank Baum, Hans Christian Andersen, Louisa May Alcott, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Clement Moore explore rituals and possibilities that range from hearthside quiet to journeys through snowbound landscapes and enchanted realms. The result is a conversation between celebration and conscience, play and prayer, memory and hope.
At the center of that conversation stand Dickens’s Christmas writings, from A Christmas Carol and The Chimes to The Cricket on the Hearth and Mugby Junction, accompanied by reflections such as What Christmas Is As We Grow Older. Their attention to community, time, and fellow feeling resonates with spiritual narratives like Henry van Dyke’s The Story of the Other Wise Man and The Lost Word, Leo Tolstoy’s Where Love Is, God Is, and Selma Lagerlof’s The Holy Night, as well as with the intimate drama of O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. Harriet Beecher Stowe’s stories—including The First Christmas Of New England, Betty’s Bright Idea, and Deacon Pitkin’s Farm—extend the theme of conscience to household and village.
The collection also sustains a strong current of fantasy and fairy tale. George MacDonald’s At the Back of the North Wind and The Princess and the Goblin & The Princess and Curdie, L. Frank Baum’s Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, A Kidnapped Santa Claus, and The Wonderful Wizard of OZ, and J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan and Wendy open the season to guardians, gifts, and the testing of courage. E. T. A. Hoffmann’s The Nutcracker and the Mouse King stands alongside Andersen’s The Snow Queen, The Little Match Girl, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, The Fir Tree, and A Christmas Greeting: A Series of Stories, while the Brothers Grimm contribute The Elves and the Shoemaker, Mother Holle, The Star Talers, and Snow-White. Madame d’Aulnoy’s The Blue Bird and Beatrix Potter’s The Tailor of Gloucester and The Tale of Peter Rabbit add craft, kindness, and creaturely charm to this imaginative arc.
Domestic and community-centered narratives broaden the portrait of goodwill. Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women and A Merry Christmas & Other Christmas Stories, Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables and A Christmas Inspiration and Other Stories, and Frances Hodgson Burnett’s Little Lord Fauntleroy affirm the shaping power of family, friendship, and principle. Works such as Martha Finley’s Christmas with Grandma Elsie, Abbie Farwell Brown’s The Christmas Angel, and Kate Douglas Wiggin’s The Birds' Christmas Carol and The Romance of a Christmas Card consider hospitality and the circulation of care, while Hesba Stretton’s The Christmas Child and The Wonderful Life - Story of the life and death of our Lord offer devotional emphasis. Nearby stand portrayals of hardship and reform, as in Jacob A. Riis’s Children of the Tenements and The Doctor’s Christmas Eve by James Lane Allen, as well as Oliver Twist.
Journeys, work, and the living world supply further textures. Robert Louis Stevenson’s Christmas At Sea evokes peril and perseverance; Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows and Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty turn to animal life and rural passage; William Dean Howells’s The Pony Engine and the Pacific Express and Christmas Every Day hint at industry, play, and motion. Mark Twain’s A Letter from Santa Claus, John Kendrick Bangs’s A Little Book of Christmas and Thurlow’s Christmas Story, and Anthony Trollope’s Christmas at Thompson Hall and related tales observe manners and mischief in transit and at home. Scenes of craft and winter labor surface in The Tailor of Gloucester and in titles like The Ice Queen, while works such as Jimmy Scarecrow’s Christmas and Little Girl’s Christmas contemplate the season from unexpected viewpoints.
Poems and carols form a choral counterpoint. Longfellow’s The Three Kings and Christmas Bells, Tennyson’s Ring Out, Wild Bells, Wordsworth’s Minstrels, and Sir Walter Scott’s Christmas in the Olden Time and Marmion: A Christmas Poem sound history and renewal, while Milton’s Hymn On The Morning Of Christ’s Nativity and John Donne’s Nativity a Christmas frame devotion. Thomas Hardy’s The Oxen and A Christmas Ghost Story, Emily Dickinson’s The Savior Must Have Been A Docile Gentleman and 'Twas just this time, last year, I died, William Butler Yeats’s The Magi, Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s A Christmas Carol, John Greenleaf Whittier’s The Mystic’s Christmas, Sara Teasdale’s Christmas Carol, and William Makepeace Thackeray’s The Mahogany Tree offer meditations in varied keys. Festive tradition joins in with A Visit From Saint Nicholas by Clement Moore and Old Santa Claus by Clement Clarke Moore, alongside Silent Night, The Twelve Days of Christmas, The Holly and the Ivy, Coventry Carol, Here We Come A-wassailing, Boar’s Head Carol, and hymns such as Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus and As with Gladness Men of Old.
Taken together, these works chart enduring questions about generosity, belonging, faith, and justice, balanced by delight in play, song, and storytelling. The juxtaposition of fairy tale and social sketch, of hearthside novel and maritime ballad, shows the season’s capacity to hold both solace and critique. In a present shaped by change and distance, their language of welcome, imagination, and moral attention remains a gathering place for readers of many ages, returning each year to consider others and the possibilities suggested by winter light.
Spanning late Georgian to early twentieth-century milieus, these works register industrial capitalism’s disruptions and reformist energies. In Britain, enclosure, factories, and the New Poor Law shadow Dickens’s Christmas numbers and Oliver Twist, where seasonal charity intersects debates on welfare and labor. Across the Atlantic, Civil War exigencies and Reconstruction-era ideals shape Louisa May Alcott and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, while Gilded Age immigration and tenement misery animate Jacob A. Riis and William Dean Howells’s humane didacticism. Philanthropy, settlement work, and Sabbath-school publishing bolster Hesba Stretton and Harriet Beecher Stowe. The festive calendar itself becomes a forum for negotiating class obligation, urban poverty, and civic virtue.
Monarchical Europe and imperial entanglements set the backdrop for continental tales. The Brothers Grimm gathered folklore amid German nationalist stirrings; Hans Christian Andersen wrote under a constitutional Danish crown; Selma Lagerlöf distilled Swedish rural pietism. In Tsarist Russia, censorship and Orthodoxy inform Fyodor Dostoevsky’s and Leo Tolstoy’s moral inquiries. British imperial reach surfaces in Rudyard Kipling’s Christmas in India and in the metropolitan vantage of Anthony Trollope. Across the Anglophone world, J. M. Barrie, L. Frank Baum, and Beatrix Potter navigate empire’s markets while centering childhood. Irish cultural revivalism frames William Butler Yeats’s symbolism, entwining seasonal ritual with nationhood’s longing.
Gender and class hierarchies underwrite domestic fiction, yet women authors seize the holiday to assert agency. Frances Hodgson Burnett, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Kate Douglas Wiggin, Eleanor H. Porter, Martha Finley, Sophie May, and Amy Ella Blanchard foreground girlhood education, household economies, and civic benevolence. Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty advances humane reform alongside debates on cruelty and labor. Racial and immigrant stratifications inform Riis’s Children of the Tenements and Harriet Beecher Stowe’s seasonal narratives. Publication relied on periodicals, Christmas numbers, and illustrated gift-books; Dickens and Trollope capitalized on this market. Moral guardians shaped content through editorial blue-penciling and evangelical expectations, though dissenting voices persisted.
Philosophically, the collection arcs from John Milton’s and John Donne’s sacred meditations to Romantic interiority in William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and onward to Victorian ethical sentimentalism. Sir Walter Scott’s historical imagination embeds Christmas in national memory. American poets Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and John Greenleaf Whittier fuse piety with civic conscience. Charles Dickens synthesizes moral satire and convivial spectacle, while Harriet Beecher Stowe and Edward Everett Hale adapt Christian reformism to magazine fiction. George MacDonald’s theologically inflected fantasy links medieval allegory to modern childhood. Across genres, Christmas serves as an epistemic hinge between revelation, reason, and social feeling.
Fairy-tale and fantasy traditions, from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen to E. T. A. Hoffmann, George MacDonald, L. Frank Baum, J. M. Barrie, Beatrix Potter, and Frances Browne, elevate wonder as a vehicle for ethics. Abbie Farwell Brown, Juliana Horatia Ewing, and Kate Douglas Wiggin adapt folklore to domestic pedagogy. Symbolist leanings appear in William Butler Yeats’s Magi and Selma Lagerlöf’s numinous tableaux. Parallel arts matter: carols and hymns within the volume shape sonic expectations; lavish illustration defines gift-book reading. Steam power and railways circulate motifs—witness Dickens’s Mugby Junction and Howells’s Pony Engine—while photography and urban lighting recalibrate vision for Jacob A. Riis.
Realism and social critique contend with romance and pastoral yearning. William Dean Howells, Anthony Trollope, Jacob A. Riis, and Charles Dickens anatomize institutions and manners; Mark Twain’s playful epistle satirizes authority. Thomas Hardy’s sceptical carols and narratives rub against consolatory convention, while Fyodor Dostoevsky and Leo Tolstoy probe conscience beyond dogma. Kenneth Grahame’s riverbank idyll and Frances Hodgson Burnett’s domestic theatrics counter urban grit with restorative nature and nurture. Progressive-era optimism inflects Eleanor H. Porter and James Lane Allen. Competing schools—moral realism, symbolist suggestion, and modern fantasy—share a seasonal stage, testing whether tenderness, justice, and imagination can coexist amid accelerating modernity.
Twentieth-century upheavals reframed Christmas classics as touchstones of solace and critique. Wartime readers found renewed pathos in Robert Seymour Bridges’s Noel: Christmas Eve 1913 and in carols like Silent Night. Post-Victorian bowdlerization softened Grimm and Andersen; later scholarship restored sharpness and faithfulness. Post-colonial readings interrogate Rudyard Kipling and J. M. Barrie, while feminist criticism reappraises Louisa May Alcott, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Frances Hodgson Burnett, and Kate Douglas Wiggin. Environmental humanities revisit Kenneth Grahame; animal studies deepen Anna Sewell. Urban historians pair Jacob A. Riis with Dickens. With copyright expirations, authoritative editions and translations proliferated, standardizing texts yet inviting fresh contextualization.
Adaptation multiplied meanings across media. Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol became a seasonal stage and screen staple; Clement Moore’s A Visit From Saint Nicholas standardized Santa iconography and domestic rituals. E. T. A. Hoffmann’s toy-world imagination seeded countless holiday spectacles; Beatrix Potter’s animal microdramas shaped picture-book aesthetics. J. M. Barrie, L. Frank Baum, and Frances Hodgson Burnett sustained a transatlantic theatre of childhood; Howells and Twain thrived in periodical reprint culture. Archival recovery of carols, from Coventry Carol to The Holly and the Ivy, revitalized communal performance. Today, classrooms, libraries, and digital repositories cement these texts as living traditions, prompting debates over inclusion, empathy, and memory.
An origin tale tracing Claus from an orphan raised in an enchanted forest to the world’s beloved giver of gifts, establishing familiar Christmas traditions with gentle mythmaking.
A children's fantasy in which youngsters travel to a wintry fairyland where talking trees and sprites teach kindness, courage, and holiday goodwill.
A touching Christmas story about a struggling inventor and his son whose shared project becomes a beacon of faith, perseverance, and renewed fortunes.
Wendy and her brothers fly with Peter Pan to Neverland for adventures with the Lost Boys and Captain Hook, celebrating imagination and the bittersweet pull between childhood and growing up.
The March sisters come of age through trials, work, and family devotion, with early Christmas scenes setting a tone of charity, thrift, and mutual support.
After a cyclone carries her to Oz, Dorothy journeys to the Emerald City with new friends to seek a way home, learning about heart, courage, and self-reliance.
A kind-hearted American boy unexpectedly heir to an English earldom softens his stern grandfather and revitalizes an estate through innocence and generosity.
A family-centered holiday in the Elsie Dinsmore series, blending festivities with piety, domestic lessons, and charitable acts.
High-spirited orphan Anne Shirley brings imaginative misadventures and warmth to Green Gables, with seasonal scenes highlighting friendship, community, and grace.
A skeptical woman stages a social experiment with anonymous gifts at Christmastime and discovers the quiet power of compassion.
A poor cabman’s son befriends the personified North Wind and follows her into mysterious realms, where wonder, loss, and consolation interweave.
Told from a horse’s perspective, this humane classic chronicles Beauty’s changing masters and hardships while advocating kindness to animals.
A tender holiday tale of a foundling whose arrival brings reconciliation, awakening empathy and renewal in a divided community.
A magical chair carries a poor girl into a regal hall where it tells richly moral fairy stories, culminating in festive reward.
A small-town Christmas card sets in motion coincidences and homecomings that mend estrangements and restore family ties.
Mole, Rat, Badger, and irrepressible Toad navigate adventures and mishaps, with winter chapters emphasizing hospitality and the comforts of home.
An ailing but generous child plans a Christmas surprise for a neighboring poor family, embodying cheer and charity.
A plain-language retelling of the Gospels for young readers, emphasizing the compassion, sacrifice, and hope at the heart of Christ’s life.
An orphan’s journey from workhouse cruelty to the criminal underworld and, ultimately, belonging exposes social injustice while cherishing innocence.
A domestic holiday story in which children and neighbors learn that small acts of kindness make the season truly joyful.
A Kentucky doctor’s Christmas Eve brings reflections on love, duty, and community, with quiet romantic and moral resolutions.
An orphan’s “glad game” transforms a town’s outlook, turning trials into occasions for gratitude and connection.
Pollyanna carries her optimistic ethos into new settings and responsibilities, spreading goodwill while learning more mature lessons about love and loss.
Vignettes of immigrant life in New York’s tenements spotlight hardship and neighborly charity, often crystallizing around Christmas hopes.
Mice rescue an ailing tailor by finishing a mayor’s waistcoat in time for Christmas, blending whimsy with quiet industry.
Everyday scrapes and lessons of a 19th‑century girl’s world, with holiday episodes underscoring manners, thrift, and family affection.
An allegorical Christmas tale where a child’s innocence and selflessness illuminate the costs and consolations of doing right.
A family’s festive games and storytelling, presided over by Father Christmas, reflect Victorian traditions and gentle moral humor.
Simple adventures of boys skating, sledding, and helping others, presenting wholesome fun and straightforward lessons.
A wintry adventure in which a young protagonist braves ice and snow to keep a promise, highlighting courage, loyalty, and seasonal wonder.
On a holiday train journey, a benevolent “Miss Santa Claus” spreads cheer among children and travelers, turning chance meetings into acts of kindness.
A domestic expansion of the nursery rhyme about a resourceful mother managing a large brood, with Christmas scenes stressing thrift and love.
A girls’ story of responsibility and generosity, in which Marian’s holiday experiences nurture empathy and family devotion.
Short tales that celebrate modest gifts, self-denial, and familial warmth, encouraging cheerful charity over extravagance.
A young couple’s heartfelt sacrifices to buy each other gifts reveal that love outweighs material possessions.
Fairy tales that frame winter and Christmas as settings for longing, steadfast love, and moral testing, balancing wonder with poignant realism.
Domestic and historical Christmas stories that ally faith with practical charity, from Puritan beginnings to rural generosity.
A legend-like vignette of the first Christmas, where an act of compassion opens the way to a humble miracle.
A poor girl’s simple faith brings unexpected joy on Christmas morning, affirming contentment and hope.
A playful, affectionate note from “Santa” to a child blends humor with the magic of belief.
A holiday fable in which anonymous giving changes a skeptic’s heart, exploring how small kindnesses ripple through a community.
A mischievous rabbit sneaks into Mr. McGregor’s garden and learns caution, told with brisk charm and naturalist detail.
Elfin helpers guide a girl to humility and kindness, turning chores and trials into lessons in character.
Wry, tender stories of misunderstandings, reconciliations, and duty set at Christmastime, where decorum meets human foibles and grace.
Princess Irene and miner boy Curdie, aided by a mystical grandmother, confront goblins and corruption, affirming courage, trust, and the seen-and-unseen.
Whimsical, often satirical yuletide pieces—ghosts, editors, and modern fuss—ultimately circling back to goodwill and cheer.
Playful children’s tales that turn holiday wishes and everyday objects upside down, using gentle irony to teach gratitude and balance.
A lonely scarecrow finds companionship and purpose at Christmas, a quiet parable of belonging.
A child’s magical journey to Santa’s realm captures bedtime wonder and the sweetness of belief.
Classic fairy tales of diligence rewarded, secret helpers, and innocence tried, often linked to winter’s stark tests and bright rewards.
Two devotional tales in which seekers find the divine through service and sacrifice, re-centering Christmas on compassion.
When Santa is abducted, his allies foil dark forces and preserve the holiday, explaining the helpers and hazards of Christmas giving.
A princess cursed to sleep awakens to new life and reconciliation, a timeless fairy-tale of patience and renewal.
A prince transformed into a blue bird and a steadfast princess endure trials until fidelity breaks enchantment.
A dreamlike vision contrasts urban poverty with a radiant celebration of love, indicting indifference while holding out hope.
Varied American sketches—from family hearths to civic service—link Christian ideals to practical kindness during the holidays.
The classic “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” poem vividly depicts St. Nick’s nocturnal visit and the magic of anticipation.
A quiet Midwestern narrative in which chance encounters at Christmastime kindle neighborliness and gentle transformation.
A cobbler learns to recognize Christ in everyday visitors, a parable of humility and love lived out.
A sentimental holiday tale where small gifts and unexpected meetings heal misunderstandings and restore tenderness.
Traditional moral tales for children illuminate ancient customs and virtues through simple, edifying narratives.
A girl’s Christmas nutcracker springs to life, leading to nocturnal battles and a fantastical kingdom of sweets and transformation.
A miser is visited by spirits who reveal his past, present, and possible future, steering him toward repentance and generosity.
Seasonal novellas pairing supernatural visitations and domestic trials with moral awakenings, advocating mercy, memory, and reform.
Miscellanies of travelers’ tales, ghosts, and sentimental sketches first issued in holiday periodicals, collectively celebrating charity, fellowship, and second chances.
A heartfelt story of devoted siblings whose trials at Christmastime invite community compassion and moral growth.
Seasonal stories of plucky heroines, coincidences, and reconciliations, where small kindnesses bloom into larger joys.
A fanciful allegory in which the North Wind’s gift prompts a child to reform, blending wintry imagery with moral uplift.
A lonely household is brightened when a child’s belief in a Christmas fairy draws neighbors together in goodwill.
Short imaginative pieces that salute readers at Christmastime, mixing whimsy, sentiment, and gentle moral counsel.
Illustrated winter tales and rhymes offer brief amusements and kindly lessons for young readers.
A simple moral sketch where sharing a holiday meal becomes a lesson in generosity and community.
A comic cautionary tale in which a band of robbers is hilariously undone on Christmas Eve, ending with tidy poetic justice.
Beloved songs of worship, feasting, and door-to-door merriment that frame Christmas as both sacred celebration and communal festivity.
Poems that juxtapose nativity reverence and wartime longing, ringing hope through grief with the promise of peace.
Romantic evocations of medieval cheer and hospitality, contrasting old customs with enduring ideals of courage and courtesy.
A sailor far from home reflects on faith, family, and the ache of distance on Christmas Day.
An early American Santa poem cataloging Saint Nicholas’s gifts and kindly habits with jaunty cheer.
A brief meditation on the fading of old-time minstrelsy and the enduring music of memory during the season.
New Year chimes call for casting out wrongs and welcoming renewal, a moral inventory at the year’s turn.
An imperial soldier’s Christmas apart from home views the feast through homesick eyes and cultural distance.
Two high lyric meditations on the Incarnation—one baroque and cosmic, the other intimate and pastoral—exalting sacred stillness and song.
Melancholy Yuletide poems where doubt, memory, and the uncanny mingle with a wistful hope for old faiths.
Compressed, enigmatic lyrics that glance at divinity and mortality with winter-bright clarity.
A symbolic vision of the Wise Men, austere and otherworldly, moving toward mystery more than arrival.
A nostalgic toast to friendship and generous cheer around the Christmas table.
A brief carol-like lyric in which a single bell peals hope and goodwill.
A tender, luminous song of peace and the newborn light.
A Quaker poet contrasts outward festivity with the inner light of love and service.
Practical Tudor verses on holiday hospitality, thrift, and seasonable fare.
A quiet English vignette where cold night and warm faith meet in contemplative praise.
Muscular Christian verse urging active gratitude and mercy in honor of the feast.
Sentimental reflections on winter love, memory, and the season’s soft glamour.
A hearty, folk-toned celebration of rustic revelry and good humor.
A comically earnest narrative poem whose rough-hewn verse recounts holiday doings in broad strokes.
A child’s candid monologue about trying to be good before the big day, mixing mischief with charm.
A lilting, dialect hymn rejoicing in the Savior’s birth and communal joy.
A metaphysical meditation where paradox and praise meet at the manger.
Humorous dialect verse in which Santa’s mishaps prove as endearing as his gifts.
A personified winter strides the land, ushering in frost, sport, and fireside gatherings.
Light verse that treats gifting and seasonal customs with playful wit.
A comic sequel to the famous visit, surveying the cozy clutter and aftermath of the feast.
Have you heard of the great Forest of Burzee? Nurse used to sing of it when I was a child. She sang of the big tree-trunks, standing close together, with their roots intertwining below the earth and their branches intertwining above it; of their rough coating of bark and queer, gnarled limbs; of the bushy foliage that roofed the entire forest, save where the sunbeams found a path through which to touch the ground in little spots and to cast weird and curious shadows over the mosses, the lichens and the drifts of dried leaves.
The Forest of Burzee is mighty and grand and awesome to those who steal beneath its shade. Coming from the sunlit meadows into its mazes it seems at first gloomy, then pleasant, and afterward filled with never-ending delights.
For hundreds of years it has flourished in all its magnificence, the silence of its inclosure unbroken save by the chirp of busy chipmunks, the growl of wild beasts and the songs of birds.
Yet Burzee has its inhabitants—for all this. Nature peopled it in the beginning with Fairies, Knooks, Ryls and Nymphs. As long as the Forest stands it will be a home, a refuge and a playground to these sweet immortals, who revel undisturbed in its depths.
Civilization has never yet reached Burzee. Will it ever, I wonder?
Once, so long ago our great-grandfathers could scarcely have heard it mentioned, there lived within the great Forest of Burzee a wood-nymph named Necile. She was closely related to the mighty Queen Zurline, and her home was beneath the shade of a widespreading oak. Once every year, on Budding Day, when the trees put forth their new buds, Necile held the Golden Chalice of Ak to the lips of the Queen, who drank therefrom to the prosperity of the Forest. So you see she was a nymph of some importance, and, moreover, it is said she was highly regarded because of her beauty and grace.
When she was created she could not have told; Queen Zurline could not have told; the great Ak himself could not have told. It was long ago when the world was new and nymphs were needed to guard the forests and to minister to the wants of the young trees. Then, on some day not remembered, Necile sprang into being; radiant, lovely, straight and slim as the sapling she was created to guard.
Her hair was the color that lines a chestnut-bur; her eyes were blue in the sunlight and purple in the shade; her cheeks bloomed with the faint pink that edges the clouds at sunset; her lips were full red, pouting and sweet. For costume she adopted oak-leaf green; all the wood-nymphs dress in that color and know no other so desirable. Her dainty feet were sandal-clad, while her head remained bare of covering other than her silken tresses.
Necile's duties were few and simple. She kept hurtful weeds from growing beneath her trees and sapping the earth-food required by her charges. She frightened away the Gadgols, who took evil delight in flying against the tree-trunks and wounding them so that they drooped and died from the poisonous contact. In dry seasons she carried water from the brooks and pools and moistened the roots of her thirsty dependents.
That was in the beginning. The weeds had now learned to avoid the forests where wood-nymphs dwelt; the loathsome Gadgols no longer dared come nigh; the trees had become old and sturdy and could bear the drought better than when fresh-sprouted. So Necile's duties were lessened, and time grew laggard, while succeeding years became more tiresome and uneventful than the nymph's joyous spirit loved.
Truly the forest-dwellers did not lack amusement. Each full moon they danced in the Royal Circle of the Queen. There were also the Feast of Nuts, the Jubilee of Autumn Tintings, the solemn ceremony of Leaf Shedding and the revelry of Budding Day. But these periods of enjoyment were far apart, and left many weary hours between.
That a wood-nymph should grow discontented was not thought of by Necile's sisters. It came upon her only after many years of brooding. But when once she had settled in her mind that life was irksome she had no patience with her condition, and longed to do something of real interest and to pass her days in ways hitherto undreamed of by forest nymphs. The Law of the Forest alone restrained her from going forth in search of adventure.
While this mood lay heavy upon pretty Necile it chanced that the great Ak visited the Forest of Burzee and allowed the wood-nymphs as was their wont—to lie at his feet and listen to the words of wisdom that fell from his lips. Ak is the Master Woodsman of the world; he sees everything, and knows more than the sons of men.
That night he held the Queen's hand, for he loved the nymphs as a father loves his children; and Necile lay at his feet with many of her sisters and earnestly harkened as he spoke.
"We live so happily, my fair ones, in our forest glades," said Ak, stroking his grizzled beard thoughtfully, "that we know nothing of the sorrow and misery that fall to the lot of those poor mortals who inhabit the open spaces of the earth. They are not of our race, it is true, yet compassion well befits beings so fairly favored as ourselves. Often as I pass by the dwelling of some suffering mortal I am tempted to stop and banish the poor thing's misery. Yet suffering, in moderation, is the natural lot of mortals, and it is not our place to interfere with the laws of Nature."
"Nevertheless," said the fair Queen, nodding her golden head at the Master Woodsman, "it would not be a vain guess that Ak has often assisted these hapless mortals."
Ak smiled.
"Sometimes," he replied, "when they are very young—'children,' the mortals call them—I have stopped to rescue them from misery. The men and women I dare not interfere with; they must bear the burdens Nature has imposed upon them. But the helpless infants, the innocent children of men, have a right to be happy until they become full-grown and able to bear the trials of humanity. So I feel I am justified in assisting them. Not long ago—a year, maybe—I found four poor children huddled in a wooden hut, slowly freezing to death. Their parents had gone to a neighboring village for food, and had left a fire to warm their little ones while they were absent. But a storm arose and drifted the snow in their path, so they were long on the road. Meantime the fire went out and the frost crept into the bones of the waiting children."
"Poor things!" murmured the Queen softly. "What did you do?"
"I called Nelko, bidding him fetch wood from my forests and breathe upon it until the fire blazed again and warmed the little room where the children lay. Then they ceased shivering and fell asleep until their parents came."
"I am glad you did thus," said the good Queen, beaming upon the Master; and Necile, who had eagerly listened to every word, echoed in a whisper: "I, too, am glad!"
"And this very night," continued Ak, "as I came to the edge of Burzee I heard a feeble cry, which I judged came from a human infant. I looked about me and found, close to the forest, a helpless babe, lying quite naked upon the grasses and wailing piteously. Not far away, screened by the forest, crouched Shiegra, the lioness, intent upon devouring the infant for her evening meal."
"And what did you do, Ak?" asked the Queen, breathlessly.
"Not much, being in a hurry to greet my nymphs. But I commanded Shiegra to lie close to the babe, and to give it her milk to quiet its hunger. And I told her to send word throughout the forest, to all beasts and reptiles, that the child should not be harmed."
"I am glad you did thus," said the good Queen again, in a tone of relief; but this time Necile did not echo her words, for the nymph, filled with a strange resolve, had suddenly stolen away from the group.
Swiftly her lithe form darted through the forest paths until she reached the edge of mighty Burzee, when she paused to gaze curiously about her. Never until now had she ventured so far, for the Law of the Forest had placed the nymphs in its inmost depths.
Necile knew she was breaking the Law, but the thought did not give pause to her dainty feet. She had decided to see with her own eyes this infant Ak had told of, for she had never yet beheld a child of man. All the immortals are full-grown; there are no children among them. Peering through the trees Necile saw the child lying on the grass. But now it was sweetly sleeping, having been comforted by the milk drawn from Shiegra. It was not old enough to know what peril means; if it did not feel hunger it was content.
Softly the nymph stole to the side of the babe and knelt upon the sward, her long robe of rose leaf color spreading about her like a gossamer cloud. Her lovely countenance expressed curiosity and surprise, but, most of all, a tender, womanly pity. The babe was newborn, chubby and pink. It was entirely helpless. While the nymph gazed the infant opened its eyes, smiled upon her, and stretched out two dimpled arms. In another instant Necile had caught it to her breast and was hurrying with it through the forest paths.
The Master Woodsman suddenly rose, with knitted brows. "There is a strange presence in the Forest," he declared. Then the Queen and her nymphs turned and saw standing before them Necile, with the sleeping infant clasped tightly in her arms and a defiant look in her deep blue eyes.
And thus for a moment they remained, the nymphs filled with surprise and consternation, but the brow of the Master Woodsman gradually clearing as he gazed intently upon the beautiful immortal who had wilfully broken the Law. Then the great Ak, to the wonder of all, laid his hand softly on Necile's flowing locks and kissed her on her fair forehead.
"For the first time within my knowledge," said he, gently, "a nymph has defied me and my laws; yet in my heart can I find no word of chiding. What is your desire, Necile?"
"Let me keep the child!" she answered, beginning to tremble and falling on her knees in supplication.
"Here, in the Forest of Burzee, where the human race has never yet penetrated?" questioned Ak.
"Here, in the Forest of Burzee," replied the nymph, boldly. "It is my home, and I am weary for lack of occupation. Let me care for the babe! See how weak and helpless it is. Surely it can not harm Burzee nor the Master Woodsman of the World!"
"But the Law, child, the Law!" cried Ak, sternly.
"The Law is made by the Master Woodsman," returned Necile; "if he bids me care for the babe he himself has saved from death, who in all the world dare oppose me?" Queen Zurline, who had listened intently to this conversation, clapped her pretty hands gleefully at the nymph's answer.
"You are fairly trapped, O Ak!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Now, I pray you, give heed to Necile's petition."
The Woodsman, as was his habit when in thought, stroked his grizzled beard slowly. Then he said:
"She shall keep the babe, and I will give it my protection. But I warn you all that as this is the first time I have relaxed the Law, so shall it be the last time. Never more, to the end of the World, shall a mortal be adopted by an immortal. Otherwise would we abandon our happy existence for one of trouble and anxiety. Good night, my nymphs!"
Then Ak was gone from their midst, and Necile hurried away to her bower to rejoice over her new-found treasure.
Another day found Necile's bower the most popular place in the Forest. The nymphs clustered around her and the child that lay asleep in her lap, with expressions of curiosity and delight. Nor were they wanting in praises for the great Ak's kindness in allowing Necile to keep the babe and to care for it. Even the Queen came to peer into the innocent childish face and to hold a helpless, chubby fist in her own fair hand.
"What shall we call him, Necile?" she asked, smiling. "He must have a name, you know."
"Let him be called Claus," answered Necile, "for that means 'a little one.'"
"Rather let him be called Neclaus,"** returned the Queen, "for that will mean 'Necile's little one.'"
The nymphs clapped their hands in delight, and Neclaus became the infant's name, although Necile loved best to call him Claus, and in afterdays many of her sisters followed her example.
Necile gathered the softest moss in all the forest for Claus to lie upon, and she made his bed in her own bower. Of food the infant had no lack. The nymphs searched the forest for bell-udders, which grow upon the goa-tree and when opened are found to be filled with sweet milk. And the soft-eyed does willingly gave a share of their milk to support the little stranger, while Shiegra, the lioness, often crept stealthily into Necile's bower and purred softly as she lay beside the babe and fed it.
So the little one flourished and grew big and sturdy day by day, while Necile taught him to speak and to walk and to play.
His thoughts and words were sweet and gentle, for the nymphs knew no evil and their hearts were pure and loving. He became the pet of the forest, for Ak's decree had forbidden beast or reptile to molest him, and he walked fearlessly wherever his will guided him.
Presently the news reached the other immortals that the nymphs of Burzee had adopted a human infant, and that the act had been sanctioned by the great Ak. Therefore many of them came to visit the little stranger, looking upon him with much interest. First the Ryls, who are first cousins to the wood-nymphs, although so differently formed. For the Ryls are required to watch over the flowers and plants, as the nymphs watch over the forest trees. They search the wide world for the food required by the roots of the flowering plants, while the brilliant colors possessed by the full-blown flowers are due to the dyes placed in the soil by the Ryls, which are drawn through the little veins in the roots and the body of the plants, as they reach maturity. The Ryls are a busy people, for their flowers bloom and fade continually, but they are merry and light-hearted and are very popular with the other immortals.
Next came the Knooks, whose duty it is to watch over the beasts of the world, both gentle and wild. The Knooks have a hard time of it, since many of the beasts are ungovernable and rebel against restraint. But they know how to manage them, after all, and you will find that certain laws of the Knooks are obeyed by even the most ferocious animals. Their anxieties make the Knooks look old and worn and crooked, and their natures are a bit rough from associating with wild creatures continually; yet they are most useful to humanity and to the world in general, as their laws are the only laws the forest beasts recognize except those of the Master Woodsman.
Then there were the Fairies, the guardians of mankind, who were much interested in the adoption of Claus because their own laws forbade them to become familiar with their human charges. There are instances on record where the Fairies have shown themselves to human beings, and have even conversed with them; but they are supposed to guard the lives of mankind unseen and unknown, and if they favor some people more than others it is because these have won such distinction fairly, as the Fairies are very just and impartial. But the idea of adopting a child of men had never occurred to them because it was in every way opposed to their laws; so their curiosity was intense to behold the little stranger adopted by Necile and her sister nymphs.
Claus looked upon the immortals who thronged around him with fearless eyes and smiling lips. He rode laughingly upon the shoulders of the merry Ryls; he mischievously pulled the gray beards of the low-browed Knooks; he rested his curly head confidently upon the dainty bosom of the Fairy Queen herself. And the Ryls loved the sound of his laughter; the Knooks loved his courage; the Fairies loved his innocence.
The boy made friends of them all, and learned to know their laws intimately. No forest flower was trampled beneath his feet, lest the friendly Ryls should be grieved. He never interfered with the beasts of the forest, lest his friends the Knooks should become angry. The Fairies he loved dearly, but, knowing nothing of mankind, he could not understand that he was the only one of his race admitted to friendly intercourse with them.
Indeed, Claus came to consider that he alone, of all the forest people, had no like nor fellow. To him the forest was the world. He had no idea that millions of toiling, striving human creatures existed.
And he was happy and content.
** Some people have spelled this name Nicklaus and others Nicolas, which is the reason that Santa Claus is still known in some lands as St. Nicolas. But, of course, Neclaus is his right name, and Claus the nickname given him by his adopted mother, the fair nymph Necile.
Years pass swiftly in Burzee, for the nymphs have no need to regard time in any way. Even centuries make no change in the dainty creatures; ever and ever they remain the same, immortal and unchanging.
Claus, however, being mortal, grew to manhood day by day. Necile was disturbed, presently, to find him too big to lie in her lap, and he had a desire for other food than milk. His stout legs carried him far into Burzee's heart, where he gathered supplies of nuts and berries, as well as several sweet and wholesome roots, which suited his stomach better than the belludders. He sought Necile's bower less frequently, till finally it became his custom to return thither only to sleep.
The nymph, who had come to love him dearly, was puzzled to comprehend the changed nature of her charge, and unconsciously altered her own mode of life to conform to his whims. She followed him readily through the forest paths, as did many of her sister nymphs, explaining as they walked all the mysteries of the gigantic wood and the habits and nature of the living things which dwelt beneath its shade.
The language of the beasts became clear to little Claus; but he never could understand their sulky and morose tempers. Only the squirrels, the mice and the rabbits seemed to possess cheerful and merry natures; yet would the boy laugh when the panther growled, and stroke the bear's glossy coat while the creature snarled and bared its teeth menacingly. The growls and snarls were not for Claus, he well knew, so what did they matter?
He could sing the songs of the bees, recite the poetry of the wood-flowers and relate the history of every blinking owl in Burzee. He helped the Ryls to feed their plants and the Knooks to keep order among the animals. The little immortals regarded him as a privileged person, being especially protected by Queen Zurline and her nymphs and favored by the great Ak himself.
One day the Master Woodsman came back to the forest of Burzee. He had visited, in turn, all his forests throughout the world, and they were many and broad.
Not until he entered the glade where the Queen and her nymphs were assembled to greet him did Ak remember the child he had permitted Necile to adopt. Then he found, sitting familiarly in the circle of lovely immortals, a broad-shouldered, stalwart youth, who, when erect, stood fully as high as the shoulder of the Master himself.
Ak paused, silent and frowning, to bend his piercing gaze upon Claus. The clear eyes met his own steadfastly, and the Woodsman gave a sigh of relief as he marked their placid depths and read the youth's brave and innocent heart. Nevertheless, as Ak sat beside the fair Queen, and the golden chalice, filled with rare nectar, passed from lip to lip, the Master Woodsman was strangely silent and reserved, and stroked his beard many times with a thoughtful motion.
With morning he called Claus aside, in kindly fashion, saying:
"Bid good by, for a time, to Necile and her sisters; for you shall accompany me on my journey through the world."
The venture pleased Claus, who knew well the honor of being companion of the Master Woodsman of the world. But Necile wept for the first time in her life, and clung to the boy's neck as if she could not bear to let him go. The nymph who had mothered this sturdy youth was still as dainty, as charming and beautiful as when she had dared to face Ak with the babe clasped to her breast; nor was her love less great. Ak beheld the two clinging together, seemingly as brother and sister to one another, and again he wore his thoughtful look.
Taking Claus to a small clearing in the forest, the Master said: "Place your hand upon my girdle and hold fast while we journey through the air; for now shall we encircle the world and look upon many of the haunts of those men from whom you are descended."
These words caused Claus to marvel, for until now he had thought himself the only one of his kind upon the earth; yet in silence he grasped firmly the girdle of the great Ak, his astonishment forbidding speech.
Then the vast forest of Burzee seemed to fall away from their feet, and the youth found himself passing swiftly through the air at a great height.
Ere long there were spires beneath them, while buildings of many shapes and colors met their downward view. It was a city of men, and Ak, pausing to descend, led Claus to its inclosure. Said the Master:
"So long as you hold fast to my girdle you will remain unseen by all mankind, though seeing clearly yourself. To release your grasp will be to separate yourself forever from me and your home in Burzee."
One of the first laws of the Forest is obedience, and Claus had no thought of disobeying the Master's wish. He clung fast to the girdle and remained invisible.
Thereafter with each moment passed in the city the youth's wonder grew. He, who had supposed himself created differently from all others, now found the earth swarming with creatures of his own kind.
"Indeed," said Ak, "the immortals are few; but the mortals are many."
Claus looked earnestly upon his fellows. There were sad faces, gay and reckless faces, pleasant faces, anxious faces and kindly faces, all mingled in puzzling disorder. Some worked at tedious tasks; some strutted in impudent conceit; some were thoughtful and grave while others seemed happy and content. Men of many natures were there, as everywhere, and Claus found much to please him and much to make him sad.
But especially he noted the children—first curiously, then eagerly, then lovingly. Ragged little ones rolled in the dust of the streets, playing with scraps and pebbles. Other children, gaily dressed, were propped upon cushions and fed with sugar-plums. Yet the children of the rich were not happier than those playing with the dust and pebbles, it seemed to Claus.
"Childhood is the time of man's greatest content," said Ak, following the youth's thoughts. "'Tis during these years of innocent pleasure that the little ones are most free from care."
"Tell me," said Claus, "why do not all these babies fare alike?"
"Because they are born in both cottage and palace," returned the Master. "The difference in the wealth of the parents determines the lot of the child. Some are carefully tended and clothed in silks and dainty linen; others are neglected and covered with rags."
"Yet all seem equally fair and sweet," said Claus, thoughtfully.
"While they are babes—yes;" agreed Ak. "Their joy is in being alive, and they do not stop to think. In after years the doom of mankind overtakes them, and they find they must struggle and worry, work and fret, to gain the wealth that is so dear to the hearts of men. Such things are unknown in the Forest where you were reared." Claus was silent a moment. Then he asked:
"Why was I reared in the forest, among those who are not of my race?"
Then Ak, in gentle voice, told him the story of his babyhood: how he had been abandoned at the forest's edge and left a prey to wild beasts, and how the loving nymph Necile had rescued him and brought him to manhood under the protection of the immortals.
