Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa Claus' Reading List

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Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa Claus' Reading List Page 348

by A. A. Milne


  In a very short time everything was changed in Miss Bennett's cottage. She had publicly adopted Hetty, and announced her as her heir. A girl had been installed in the kitchen, and Hetty, in pretty new clothes, had begun school. Fresh paint inside and out, with many new comforts, made the old house charming and bright. But nothing could change the pleasant and happy relations between the two friends, and a more contented and cheerful household could not be found anywhere.

  Happiness is a wonderful doctor and Miss Bennett grew so much better, that she could travel, and when Hetty had finished school days, they saw a little of the world before they settled down to a quiet, useful life.

  "Every comfort on earth I owe to you," said Hetty, one day, when Miss Bennett had proposed some new thing to add to her enjoyment.

  "Ah, dear Hetty! how much do I owe to you! But for you, I should, no doubt, be at this moment a shivering pauper in that terrible poorhouse, while some one else would be living in this dear old house. And it all comes," she added softly, "of that one unselfish thought, of that one self-denial for others."

  A Christmas Folk Song

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  A Christmas Folk Song

  De win' is blowin' wahmah,

  An hit's blowin' f'om de bay;

  Dey's a so't o' mist a-risin'

  All erlong de meddah way;

  Dey ain't a hint o' frostin'

  On de groun' ner in de sky,

  An' dey ain't no use in hopin'

  Dat de snow'll 'mence to fly.

  It's goin' to be a green Christmas,

  An' sad de day fu' me.

  I wish dis was de las' one

  Dat evah I should see.

  * * *

  Dey's dancin' in de cabin,

  Dey's spahkin' by de tree;

  But dancin' times an' spahkin'

  Are all done pas' fur me.

  Dey's feastin' in de big house,

  Wid all de windahs wide--

  Is dat de way fu' people

  To meet de Christmas-tide?

  It's goin' to be a green Christmas,

  No mattah what you say.

  Dey's us dat will remembah

  An' grieve de comin' day.

  * * *

  Dey's des a bref o' dampness

  A-clingin' to my cheek;

  De aih's been dahk an' heavy

  An' threatenin' fu' a week,

  But not wid signs o' wintah,

  Dough wintah'd seem so deah--

  De wintah's out o' season,

  An' Christmas eve is heah.

  It's goin' to be a green Christmas,

  An' oh, how sad de day!

  Go ax de hongry chu'chya'd,

  An' see what hit will say.

  * * *

  Dey's Allen on de hillside,

  An' Marfy in de plain;

  Fu' Christmas was like springtime,

  An' come wid sun an' rain.

  Dey's Ca'line, John, an' Susie,

  Wid only dis one lef':

  An' now de curse is comin'

  Wid murder in hits bref.

  It's goin' to be a green Christmas--

  Des hyeah my words an' see:

  Befo' de summah beckons

  Dey's many 'll weep wid me.

  A Little Christmas Basket

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  A Little Christmas Basket

  De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah,

  De snow's a-sayin' "Got you" to de groun',

  Fu' de wintah weathah 's come widout a-askin' ouah desiah,

  An' he 's laughin' in his sleeve at whut he foun';

  Fu' dey ain't nobody ready wid dey fuel er dey food,

  An' de money bag look timid lak, fu' sho',

  So we want ouah Chrismus sermon, but we 'd lak it ef you could

  Leave a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

  * * *

  Wha 's de use o' tellin' chillen 'bout a Santy er a Nick,

  An' de sto'ies dat a body allus tol'?

  When de harf is gray wid ashes an' you has n't got a stick

  Fu' to warm dem when dey little toes is col'?

  Wha 's de use o' preachin' 'ligion to a man dat's sta'ved to def,

  An' a-tellin' him de Mastah will pu'vide?

  Ef you want to tech his feelin's, save yo' sermons an' yo' bref,

  Tek a little Chrismus basket by yo' side.

  * * *

  'T ain't de time to open Bibles an' to lock yo' cellah do',

  'T ain't de time to talk o' bein' good to men;

  Ef you want to preach a sermon ez you nevah preached befo',

  Preach dat sermon wid a shoat er wid er hen;

  Bein' good is heap sight bettah den a-dallyin' wid sin,

  An' dey ain't nobody roun' dat knows it mo',

  But I t'ink dat 'ligion 's sweeter w'en it kind o' mixes in

  Wid a little Chrismus basket at de do'.

  Chrismus Is A-Comin'

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  Chrismus Is A-Comin'

  Bones a-gittin' achy,

  Back a-feelin' col',

  Han's a-growin' shaky,

  Jes' lak I was ol'.

  Fros' erpon de meddah

  Lookin' mighty white;

  Snowdraps lak a feddah

  Slippin' down at night.

  Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'

  Spite o' fros' an' showahs,

  Chrismus is a-comin'

  An' all de week is ouahs.

  * * *

  Little mas' a-axin',

  "Who is Santy Claus?"

  Meks it kin' o' taxin'

  Not to brek de laws.

  Chillun 's pow'ful tryin'

  To a pusson's grace

  Wen dey go a pryin'

  Right on th'oo you' face

  Down ermong yo' feelin's;

  Jes' 'pears lak dat you

  Got to change you' dealin's

  So 's to tell 'em true.

  * * *

  An' my pickaninny—

  Dreamin' in his sleep!

  Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny,

  Come an' tek a peep.

  Ol Mas' Bob an' Missis

  In dey house up daih

  Got no chile lak dis is,

  D' ain't none anywhaih.

  Sleep, my little lammy,

  Sleep, you little limb,

  He do' know whut mammy

  Done saved up fu' him.

  Dey 'll be banjo pickin',

  Dancin' all night thoo.

  * * *

  Dey 'll be lots o' chicken,

  Plenty tukky, too.

  Drams to wet yo' whistles

  So 's to drive out chills.

  Whut I keer fu' drizzles

  Fallin' on de hills?

  Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin'

  Spite o' col' an' showahs,

  Chrismus day 's a-comin',

  An' all de week is ouahs.

  Chrismus On The Plantation

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  Chrismus On The Plantation

  It was Chrismus Eve, I mind hit fu' a mighty gloomy day--

  Bofe de weathah an' de people--not a one of us was gay;

  Cose you 'll t'ink dat 's mighty funny 'twell I try to mek hit cleah,

  Fu' a da'ky 's allus happy when de holidays is neah.

  * * *

  But we wasn't, fu' dat mo'nin' Mastah 'd tol' us we mus' go,

  He 'd been payin' us sence freedom, but he couldn't pay no mo';'

  He wa'n't nevah used to plannin' 'fo' he got so po' an' ol',

  So he gwine to give up tryin', an' de homestead mus' be sol'.

  * * *

  I kin see him stan'in' now erpon de step ez cleah ez day,

  Wid de win' a-kind o' fondlin' thoo his haih all thin an' gray;

  An' I 'membah how he trimbled when he said, "It's ha 'd fu' me,

  Not to mek yo' Chrismus brightah, but I 'low it wa'n't to be."

  * * *

  All de women was a-cryi
n', an' de men, too, on de sly,

  An' I noticed somep'n shinin' even in ol' Mastah's eye.

  But we all stood still to listen ez ol' Ben come f'om de crowd

  An' spoke up, a-try'n' to steady down his voice and mek it loud:--

  * * *

  "Look hyeah, Mastah, I 's been servin' you' fu' lo! dese many yeahs,

  An' now, sence we 's got freedom an' you 's kind o' po', hit 'pears

  Dat you want us all to leave you 'cause you don't t'ink you can pay.

  Ef my membry has n't fooled me, seem dat whut I hyead you say.

  * * *

  "Er in othah wo'ds, you wants us to fu'git dat you 's been kin',

  An' ez soon ez you is he'pless, we 's to leave you hyeah behin'.

  Well, ef dat 's de way dis freedom ac's on people, white er black,

  You kin jes' tell Mistah Lincum fu' to tek his freedom back.

  * * *

  "We gwine wo'k dis ol' plantation fu' whatevah we kin git,

  Fu' I know hit did suppo't us, an' de place kin do it yit.

  Now de land is yo's, de hands is ouahs, an' I reckon we 'll be brave,

  An' we 'll bah ez much ez you do w'en we has to scrape an' save."

  * * *

  Ol' Mastah stood dah trimblin', but a-smilin' thoo his teahs,

  An' den hit seemed jes' nachul-like, de place fah rung wid cheahs,

  An' soon ez dey was quiet, some one sta'ted sof an' low:

  "Praise God," an' den we all jined in, "from whom all blessin's flow!"

  * * *

  Well, dey was n't no use tryin', ouah min's was sot to stay,

  An' po' ol' Mastah could n't plead ner baig, ner drive us 'way,

  An' all at once, hit seemed to us, de day was bright agin,

  So evahone was gay dat night, an' watched de Chrismus in.

  Christmas Carol

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  Christmas Carol

  Ring out, ye bells!

  All Nature swells

  With gladness at the wondrous story, --

  The world was at lorn,

  But Christ is born

  To change our sadness into glory.

  * * *

  Sing, earthlings, sing!

  To-night a King

  Hath come from heaven's high throne to bless us.

  The outstretched hand

  O'er all the land

  Is raised in pity to caress us.

  * * *

  Come at His call;

  Be joyful all;

  Away with mourning and with sadness!

  The heavenly choir

  With holy fire

  Their voices raise in songs of gladness.

  * * *

  The darkness breaks

  And Dawn awakes,

  Her cheeks suffused with youthful blushes.

  The rocks and stones

  In holy tones

  Are singing sweeter than the thrushes.

  * * *

  Then why should we

  In silence be,

  When Nature lends her voice to praises;

  When heaven and earth

  Proclaim the truth

  Of Him for whom that lone star blazes?

  * * *

  No, be not still,

  But with a will

  Strike all your harps and set them ringing;

  On hill and heath

  Let every breath

  Throw all its power into singing!

  Christmas in the Heart

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  Christmas in the Heart

  The snow lies deep upon the ground,

  And winter's brightness all around

  Decks bravely out the forest sere,

  With jewels of the brave old year.

  The coasting crowd upon the hill

  With some new spirit seems to thrill;

  And all the temple bells achime.

  Ring out the glee of Christmas time.

  * * *

  In happy homes the brown oak-bough

  Vies with the red-gemmed holly now;

  And here and there, like pearls, there show

  The berries of the mistletoe.

  A sprig upon the chandelier

  Says to the maidens, "Come not here!"

  Even the pauper of the earth

  Some kindly gift has cheered to mirth!

  * * *

  Within his chamber, dim and cold,

  There sits a grasping miser old.

  He has no thought save one of gain,--

  To grind and gather and grasp and drain.

  A peal of bells, a merry shout

  Assail his ear: he gazes out

  Upon a world to him all gray,

  And snarls, "Why, this is Christmas Day!"

  * * *

  No, man of ice,--for shame, for shame!

  For "Christmas Day" is no mere name.

  No, not for you this ringing cheer,

  This festal season of the year.

  And not for you the chime of bells

  From holy temple rolls and swells.

  In day and deed he has no part--

  Who holds not Christmas in his heart!

  Christmas

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  Christmas

  Step wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle,

  Dis ain' no time fu' to pottah an' piddle:

  Fu' Christmas is comin', it's right on de way,

  An' dey's houahs to dance 'fo' de break o' de day.

  * * *

  What if de win' is taihin' an' whistlin'?

  Look at dat' fiah how hit's spittin' an' bristlin'!

  Heat in de ashes an' heat in de cindahs,

  Ol' mistah Fros' kin des look thoo de windahs.

  * * *

  Heat up de toddy an' pas' de wa'm glasses,

  Don' stop to shivah at blowin's an' blas'es,

  Keep on de kittle an' keep it a-hummin',

  Eat all an' drink all, dey's lots o' a-comin'.

  * * *

  Look hyeah, Maria, don't open dat oven,

  Want all dese people a-pushin' an' shovin'?

  Res' f'om de dance? Yes, you done cotch dat odah,

  Mammy done cotch it, an' law! hit nigh flo'd huh;

  * * *

  'Possum is monst'ous fu' mekin' folks fin' it!

  Come, draw yo' cheers up, I's sho' I do' min' it.

  Eat up dem critters, you men folks an' wimmens,

  'Possums ain' skace w'en dey's lots o' pu'simmons.

  One Christmas At Shiloh

  Paul Laurence Dunbar

  One Christmas At Shiloh

  Martha Maria Mixon was a "widder lady." So she described herself whenever anyone asked her as to her status in life. To her more intimate friends she confided that she was not a "weed widder," but one of the "grass" variety. The story of how her husband, Madison, had never been "No 'count, even befo' de wah," and of his rapid degeneration thereafter, was vividly told.

  * * *

  "De fact of de mattah is," Mrs. Mixon was wont to say, "my man, Madison, was nevah no han' to wo'k. He was de settin'-downest man you evah seed. Hit wouldn't 'a' been so bad, but Madison was a lakly man, an' his tongue wah smoothah dan ile; so hit t'wan't no shakes fu' him to fool ol' Mas' 'bout his wo'k an' git erlong des erbout ez he pleased. Mas' Madison Mixon, hisse'f, was a mighty 'dulgent so't o' man, an' he liked a laugh bettah dan anyone in de worl'. Well, my man could mek him laugh, an' dat was enough fu' him. I used to lectuah dat man much 'bout his onshifless ways, but he des went erlong, twell bimeby hyeah come de wah an' evahthing was broke up. Den w'en hit come time dat Madison had to scramble fu' hisself, dey wa'nt no scramble in him. He des' wouldn't wo'k an' I had to do evahthing. He allus had what he called some gret scheme, but deh nevah seemed to come to nuffin, an' once when he got de folks to put some money in somep'n' dat broke up, dey come put' nigh tahin' an' featherin' him. Finally, I des got morchully tiahed o' dat man's ca'in' on, an' I say to him one day, 'Madison,' I s
ay, 'I'm tiahed of all dis foo'ishness, an' I'm gwine up Norf whaih I kin live an' be somebody. Ef evah you mek a man out o' yo'se'f, an' want me, de Bible say 'Seek an' you shell receive.' Cause even den I was a mighty han' to c'ote de Scripters. Well, I lef' him, an' Norf I come, 'dough it jes' nigh broke my hea't, fu' I sho did love dat black man. De las' thing I hyeahed o' him, he had des learned to read an' write an' wah runnin' fu' de Legislater 'twell de Klu Klux got aftah him; den I think he 'signed de nomernation."

  * * *

  This was Martha's story, and the reason that there was no Mr. Mixon with her when she came North, drifted from place to place and finally became one of New York's large black contingent from the South. To her the lessons of slavery had not been idle ones. Industrious, careful, and hard-working, she soon became prosperous, and when, hunting a spiritual home she settled upon Shiloh Chapel, she was welcomed there as a distinct addition to the large and active membership.

  * * *

  Shiloh was not one of the fashionable churches of the city, but it was primarily a church home for any Southern negro, for in it were representatives of every one of the old slaveholding States. Its pastor was one of those who had not yet got beyond the belief that any temporal preparation for the preaching of the Gospel was unnecessary. It was still his firm trust, and often his boast, that if one opened his mouth the Lord would fill it, and it grew to be a settled idea that the Lord filled his acceptably, for his converts were many and his congregation increased.

 

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