Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1900-12-21
A CHRISTMAS MEMORY.


lieved in most He knew that a
broken stick circled about over a lit
tie boys hand would take off warts,
because he had had a great many on
one hand and his grown up cousin had
taken them off for him in that way.
You had to say some words while you
circled the stick over the warts
and then swing it three times about
your head and let go of it so that it
fell where you didn't see it. Then
some day when you weren't thinking
about it you would see all at once
that your warts were gone.
He knew that a dead snake turned
over on it's back would bring rain.
He knew this because once he had
found dead snake and turned it
over to see. They were not needing
rain at the time, but that night it
poured down in a great flood. and the
next day, too, it fell in torrents, until
he heard his father say that if it kept
on everything would be ruined. Then
the little boy slipped guilty out in
the rain and turned the snake back
to save the crops.
He believed in pulling wishbones,
for he knew if he got the long end, and
then put it over the door. his wish
would be almost sure to come true.
Along about Thanksgiving time there
were a great many wishbones and the
narrow shelf at the top of the door
casing was filed with gristly hopes
that were mostly to come true Christ
mas morning.
For in the goodness of Santa Claus
he believed most of all. His prayers
were a great comfort, for they were
IL. l.. 4
he was not afraid. even of house
breakers. His parents he could de-
pend on, too, for his every day wants,
but Santa Claus was big, jolly fellow
in fur who loved children and who, I'M
seen and mysterious, came once a
year with sleigh and reindeer to
bring real things-the very things
they wanted most. His sleigh trav-
elled through the air and over the
housetops. He could come down a
chimney of any size with his pack,
and he always did come, and the long
stockings that the little boy and his
sister hung, one at each corner of the
mantel, over the fireplace, were always
filled.
There was just one Santa Claus, and
there was no faith and no feeling quite
like that on the afternoon before
Christmas, when he drove the tack into
the back left hand corner of the man.
tel piece and hung on it his longest
and reddest stocking, and then sat in
different parts of the room to look at
1t and so make sure that Santa Claus
could not fail to see it first thing.
On other nights he was not always
anxious to go to bed. On Christmas
Eve he was willing to go before sup
per time. The morning would come
quicker if he was asleep, and then he
could wake up earlier, too. and get his
stocking. To get up early long be-
fore daylight, long before the fires
were lit; to race out into the sitting
room and back with the stuffed, lumpy
stocldng-this was the one great joy
worth the whole year of waiting.
Months, weeks, days and at last hours
were counted up to the moment. There
was nothing beyond it-nothing but to
begin the count of another years wait
ing.
He had wanted a knife. He had
wanted one since he could first remem-
ber but now that he had been going
to school it seemed to him that there
was nothing in he world he wanted
like that. The other boys had them.
him, but he had caught up with them
in his lessons, and it seemed as if
knives and lessons ought to go to-
gether. His parents were afraid he
would cut his fingers, but he had used
the other boys knives and had not cut
himself; at least only little once, and
that was an accident.
He made up his mind at last that in
Santa Claus lay his only hope Santa
Claus, who knew everything, would
know that he was old enough to have
a knife-perhaps even one with two
blades, a big one and a little one.
He mentioned this to his parents, but
they looked grave and said that Santa
Claus was very particular about lit
tie boys fingers. Still he had faith
and day and night his faith grew until
once it went as far as three blades, a
big one and two little ones, such as no
boy in school had. But this frighten-
ed him even to think of, and he went
back right away to two blades. He
even said to himself that one blade.
a big onewith fiat bone handle-a
Barlow, as the boys called it-would
do He felt sure of getting that, any
way, and he put his hand In his pocket
to see how it would seem there, and
imagined how the boys at school would
gather around to look at it cut against
their own to see which had the best
steel.
their own to see which had he best
steel.
He had been getting all the, long
ends of the wish bones, and his wish
was always for the knife. Above the
sitting room door there was a perfect
thicket of long ends. The knife was
certain He could hardly wait for the
time.
But one day, when Christmas was no
more than a few weeks off, his father
returned from the village with a pic
ture paper It had great deal in it
about Christmas. and inside there was
a set of pictures that covered over two
whole pages. The little boy saw
them and spread the paper down on
the floor to look at them. Then he
forgot everything else in the world, for
they were pictures of the life and
home of Santa Claus! He had seen
other such pictures, but never any
before like these. There was the
workshop with the old fellow at his
bench, and the finished gifts piled
around him. There were dolls and
playthings without number, and there
right in front of him, sure enough, was
a whole row of pocket knives!
The little boy got down and looked
-.