Christmas Stories

Twas the Night before Christmas Story

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house.Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snowGave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.With a little old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!”Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roofThe prancing and pawing of each little hoof.As I drew in my head, and was turning around,Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.He had a broad face and a little round belly,That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.And laying his finger aside of his nose,And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

The Legend of The Christmas Tree Story

Two little children were sitting by the fire one cold winter’s night. All at once they heard a timid knock at the door, and one ran to open it.There, outside in the cold and the darkness, stood a child with no shoes upon his feet and clad in thin, ragged garments. He was shivering with cold, and he asked to come in and warm himself.”Yes, come,” cried both the children; “you shall have our place by the fire. Come in!”They drew the little stranger to their warm seat and shared their supper with him, and gave him their bed, while they slept on a hard bench.In the night they were awakened by strains of sweet music and, looking out, they saw a band of children in shining garments approaching the house. They were playing on golden harps, and the air was full of melody.Suddenly the Stranger Child stood before them; no longer cold and ragged, but clad in silvery light.His soft voice said: “I was cold and you took Me in. I was hungry, and you fed Me. I was tired, and you gave Me your bed. I am the Christ Child, wandering through the world to bring peace and happiness to all good children. As you have given to Me, so may this tree every year give rich fruit to you.”So saying, He broke a branch from the fir tree that grew near the door, and He planted it in the ground and disappeared. But the branch grew into a great tree, and every year it bore wonderful golden fruit for the kind children.

“

A Christmas Legend Christmas Story

It was Christmas Eve. The night was very dark and the snow falling fast, as Hermann, the charcoal-burner, drew his cloak tighter around him, and the wind whistled fiercely through the trees of the Black Forest. He had been to carry a load to a castle near, and was now hastening home to his little hut. Although he worked very hard, he was poor, gaining barely enough for the wants of his wife and his four little children. He was thinking of them, when he heard a faint wailing. Guided by the sound, he groped about and found a little child, scantily clothed, shivering and sobbing by itself in the snow.”Why, little one, have they left thee here all alone to face this cruel blast?”The child answered nothing, but looked piteously up in the charcoal-burner’s face.”Well, I cannot leave thee here. Thou would’st be dead before the morning.”So saying, Hermann raised it in his arms, wrapping it in his cloak and warming its little cold hands in his bosom. When he arrived at his hut, he put down the child and tapped at the door, which was immediately thrown open, and the children rushed to meet him.”Here, wife, is a guest to our Christmas Eve supper,” said he, leading in the little one, who held timidly to his finger with its tiny hand.”And welcome he is,” said the wife. “Now let him come and warm himself by the fire.”The children all pressed round to welcome and gaze at the little new-comer. They showed him their pretty fir-tree, decorated with bright, colored lamps in honor of Christmas Eve, which the good mother had endeavored to make a fête for the children.Then they sat down to supper, each child contributing of its portion for the guest, looking with admiration at its clear, blue eyes and golden hair, which shone so as to shed a brighter light in the little room; and as they gazed, it grew into a sort of halo round his head, and his eyes beamed with a heavenly luster. Soon two white wings appeared at his shoulders, and he seemed to grow larger and larger, and then the beautiful vision vanished, spreading out his hands as in benediction over them.Hermann and his wife fell on their knees, exclaiming, in awe-struck voices: “The holy Christ-child!” and then embraced their wondering children in joy and thankfulness that they had entertained the Heavenly Guest.The next morning, as Hermann passed by the place where he had found the fair child, he saw a cluster of lovely white flowers, with dark green leaves, looking as though the snow itself had blossomed. Hermann plucked some, and carried them reverently home to his wife and children, who treasured the fair blossoms and tended them carefully in remembrance of that wonderful Christmas Eve, calling them Chrysanthemums; and every year, as the time came round, they put aside a portion of their feast and gave it to some poor little child, according to the words of the Christ: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”