A Letter from Denmark Christmas Eve in the Country Long Ago
ERIK AND ELSE BY MARTHA C. MOLLER
"Oh, Christmas dear! thy starlight
Can reach the poorest place,
And the eyes of little children
Reflect its gentle rays!"
Mother was singing this verse behind that shut, mysterious door to the room where just now she had finished the decking of the Christmas tree; while the children were in the dining room in the twilight, listening and waiting. "Else, I say, it will really be Christmas Eve now, in a moment, won't it?" Erik said, and he added, "for-tu-nate-ly it will!" with a funny, emphatic stress on that long word, his byword at the time. Erik used it, differently accentuated, on all occasions, both when things were really all right as when he had got into some scrape or other and had barely managed to slink through. Boys are sure to get into a fix sometimes, are not they?
Darkness came on still more. The children, leaning against the window sill, were intently watching "Hans Cowman," the old herdsman, who passed the yard with his swinging lantern that seemed to jerk along the barns, disappearing at last through the stable door.
According to old customs all the cattle of the farm were to have an ample extra supply on Christmas Eve, so that every crib could be full on that holy night.
At length Hans and his lantern vanished into the groom's chamber, through the pane of which the children could see him stand before a broken bit of looking-glass water combing his hair energetically, as the most festive preparation he could think of.
The children's clear-sighted eyes could still discern the "bird's sheaf" on its high pole in the center of the yard. It was an old custom that the birdies should also have their feast during merry Christmas time; and the children were always eager to have that sheaf raised, so that they might run out in o the yard and sing a little verse they knew by heart, intending it to be a kind invitation to the birdies:
"Joy is a guest on earth to-day
With the new-born King from above!
Fly down from the roof, little Sparrow gray,
To a Christmas feast with the Dove!"
But no pressing was needed, for all day long one heard a twitter and a rush of busy, flapping wings, birds flying gladly to and fro. Also the children had been very busy all day long. They had to help their mother in dealing out goods to some poor women who were accustomed to come with their baskets on Christmas Eve and fetch their portions of pork, grits, coffee and white bread. And to the old and sick ones, lying in their beds at home, Else and Erik had taken good parcels and had been recompensed by small bits of sugar candy or some spice nuts, as nobody was allowed to go fasting or empty handed out of any house, lest he should carry Christmas itself out of the house."
Having come back from this round the children had found it most entertaining to stay for awhile in the kitchen, watching Ann, the cook, who was baking quantities of a sort of "apple dumplings," solid and roundish like little balls. Light brown and hot she piled them on earthenware dishes. Heaps of them were required, "for Christmas lasts long.' Besides, each of the servants was entitled to have plenty of his own, the more so as they used them as a sort of "play money," staking them when playing at cards. Nor were the men servants over-particular in the handling of these dear dumplings. For when they had "kept accounts," writing with a piece of chalk on the table top, they would simply wipe it out again with the dumplings, to put them gladly into their trousers' pockets at last.
But the children thought that the servants' hall was a "funny" place, where they liked to go and have a jolly time.
Then Ann began to prepare the festive supper. While the goose was roasting in the oven she cooked the rice pudding, and now came an exciting moment! For the children were allowed themselves to "plum the three almonds into the pudding," and the lucky one who found an almond in his portion while eating it would win the nicest of marcipan things, or even a real present! For last year Else had had a small cup and saucer.
The pudding being done Ann filled an earthen dish from the big pot and made a large butter hole in the center. That was to be supper for "the brownie, "- -on Christmas Eve he must not be forgotten. "And last year he ate up every bit of it!" Ann was most positive about that. Erik ran after Ann to see her place the dish at the hayloft; but, oh, look! what's that? A pair of yellow eyes are shining out from that dark nook near the chaff bin! Erik felt just a bit creepy, but he was comforted by seeing a stiff, gray tail sticking out near the eyes. Aha! it was only Pussy!
Indeed, there was no doubt about that porridge being eaten up, "every bit of it."
There was still another thing which on Christmas Eve ought never to be forgotten, the placing of a burning candle on the window sill of the lobby. For nobody must be out of doors, poor and forsaken, on this holy night; nobody must walk his lonely way home- less and sorrowful! Therefore lights are burning behind clear panes in the scattered houses; starlike they are shining out brightly into the darkness, as a kind welcome to every wanderer.
All these things came into the children's mind again, while waiting; but just when they were beginning to feel almost a little sad, a lamp was brought in and the maidservants entered, so nice and smart in their clean, white aprons. The coachman, Jens, and the water-combed Hans were following sedately.
At this very moment the doors to the big room flew open and there it stood, that wonderful Christmas tree! It was illuminated with lights, hung with tiny red apples, and its branches were covered with sparkling silver threads!
A joyful yet solemn feeling reigned in the room at first, while mother played the hymns and all the others sang them, walking around the tree.
Father then made the children look at the golden star at the top of the tree, which was to remind us, he said, of the Bethlehem star leading people to find the sweet Christ-child. And then the children's exultant joy broke forth irresistibly, and each ran to find his own gifts. Erik's eyes grew bigger and bigger at the sight of a veritable rocking-horse.
"Hurrah! fortunately I have got it!" he cried. Be sure he was in the saddle at once, and how glad he felt you will see from the picture! Little Else had the sweetest baby doll, with a cherry mouth, oh, such a dear! And so very convenient that the baby brought its own bottle and bag.
Also Hans Andersen's fairy tales with their funny pictures were there, and heaps of other lovely things. They laughed and chatted and made such a noise!
Baby sister only sat perfectly still, near mother; she stared incessantly at the tree, the lights of which were reflected in her big, blue eyes.
At last the Christmas candles burned down and the happiest night of all the year had come to an end.
The children were about to go to bed. The horse had been stabled for the night close to Erik's bed, so near that his hand could hold the rein. Else, on her bare feet, stole to the window once more to stare out into the darkness, a habit dear to her as to most true coun- try children. There was a star gleaming faintly above the big old lime tree, and Erik, from his bed, suggested it might even be "the Beth- lehem star itself." "No," Else said, "I think that one was greater and far more radiant, to guide the shepherds. Mind, father said one day that all children might come to see it!"
Yes, for-tu-nate-ly," it came in a sleepy voice from the trellis bed; and shortly after- wards Erik was sound asleep, his brown little fist squeezing the rein of the rocking-horse.
At daybreak on Christmas Day all the church bells were ringing, and the organ was playing while people sang the old hymn:
"All bells on Christmas morning blest
Are chiming for the Royal Guest,
Who would on men, so poor and low,
His gifts of peace and joy bestow!"
This is a DoJi Film: A Modern Christmas in Denmark.
