PAGE 3
Old Father Christmas
by
No. 2.–PUNCH. I sketched him from the life.
No. 3.–HIS MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY THE KING. On a quart jug
bought in Cheapside.
No. 4.–BOGY, with bad boys in the bag on his back.
Outlined from Christian bending under his burden, in my
mother’s old copy of the Pilgrim’s Progress. The face from
Giant Despair.
No. 5 and No. 6.–THE MAN IN THE MOON, and THE CLERK OF THE
WEATHER OFFICE. From a book of caricatures belonging to Dr.
James.
No. 7.–A DUNCE. From a steel engraving framed in rosewood
that hangs in my Uncle Wilkinson’s parlour.
No. 8.–OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. From a German book at Lady
Littleham’s.
CHAPTER II.
“My sister Patty was six years old. We loved each other dearly. The picture-book was almost as much hers as mine. We sat so long together on one big footstool by the fire, with our arms round each other, and the book resting on our knees, that Kitty called down blessings on my godmother’s head for having sent a volume that kept us both so long out of mischief.
“‘If books was allus as useful as that, they’d do for me,’ said she; and though this speech did not mean much, it was a great deal for Kitty to say; since, not being herself an educated person, she naturally thought that ‘little enough good comes of larning.’
“Patty and I had our favourites amongst the pictures. Bogy, now, was a character one did not care to think about too near bed-time. I was tired of Guy Fawkes, and thought he looked more natural made of straw, as Dick did him. The Dunce was a little too personal; but Old Father Christmas took our hearts by storm; we had never seen anything like him, though now-a-days you may get a plaster figure of him in any toy-shop at Christmas-time, with hair and beard like cotton-wool, and a Christmas-tree in his hand.
“The custom of Christmas-trees came from Germany. I can remember when they were first introduced into England, and what wonderful things we thought them. Now, every village school has its tree, and the scholars openly discuss whether the presents have been ‘good’ or ‘mean,’ as compared with other trees of former years.
“The first one that I ever saw I believed to have come from good Father Christmas himself; but little boys have grown too wise now to be taken in for their own amusement. They are not excited by secret and mysterious preparations in the back drawing-room; they hardly confess to the thrill–which I feel to this day–when the folding-doors are thrown open, and amid the blaze of tapers, Mamma, like a Fate, advances with her scissors to give every one what falls to his lot.
“Well, young people, when I was eight years old I had not seen a Christmas-tree, and the first picture of one I ever saw was the picture of that held by Old Father Christmas in my godmother’s picture-book.
“‘What are those things on the tree?’ I asked.
“‘Candles,’ said my father.
“‘No, father, not the candles; the other things?’
“‘Those are toys, my son.’
“‘Are they ever taken off?’
“‘Yes, they are taken off, and given to the children who stand round the tree.’
“Patty and I grasped each other by the hand, and with one voice murmured, ‘How kind of Old Father Christmas!’
“By and by I asked, ‘How old is Father Christmas?’
“My father laughed, and said, ‘One thousand eight hundred and thirty years, child,’ which was then the year of our Lord, and thus one thousand eight hundred and thirty years since the first great Christmas Day.
“‘He looks very old,’ whispered Patty.
“And I, who was, for my age, what Kitty called ‘Bible-learned,’ said thoughtfully, and with some puzzledness of mind, ‘Then he’s older than Methuselah.’
“But my father had left the room, and did not hear my difficulty.
“November and December went by, and still the picture-book kept all its charm for Patty and me; and we pondered on and loved Old Father Christmas as children can love and realize a fancy friend. To those who remember the fancies of their childhood I need say no more.