The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1911-12-29
Myths, Mysteries And Memories
of TERRY Christmas
+. p. Woodward in Scranton Tribune Republican.


the gold old Summer time" when a
straw hat, cotton shirt and some
ragged pants were more clothing
than seemed actually needful when a
fellow wanted to be first in the old
swimming hole.
Another cause of fear was -" the
Dutch woman with a stone in the toe
of her stocking" Did you ever hear
of her? No! Well, you are lucky,
sure enough! Where l got my first
knowledge of this dangerous indi-
vidual can only be conjectured. 1t
probably came from some hired
man" who had the talking mania,
and with whom truth and facts were
lightly regarded. Sure it was that
every person who "jabbered," or
spoke a language different from
English, must be dangerous as we'll
as Dutch. Come to think it all over
the knowledge of this dangerous
character, who "swatted" folks with
a long wooden stocking with a sizable
piece of rock showed away down in
its toe, came from a bright, but fear
less and mischievous girl who lived
back in the woods, and who evident
ly had it in for the Dutch; for one
day while on her way home from
school she intercepted an honest, fru-
gal, industrious German woman who
had walked through the hot sun
from Honesdale, five miles away, and
held her up, demanding a share of
her berries that had been picked un-
der stress of much labor and suffer-
ing. When the woman refused to
share her fruit, the girl tried to help
herself, and succeeded in spilling the
poor German woman's berries in the
road. She must have left her stock
ing with stone crowded down in it's
toe at home, for the most reckless
thing she did was to trample the ber-
ries under her honest and indignant
feet to prevent the mschievious girl
from getting any. But that girl told
her frightened companion awful
fairy stories of what such "jabber-
ing" women were capable of doing,
and that knowledge filtered through
to me, for the frightened compan-
ion" was my big sister.
There things inspired fear in any
young Wayne county mind, and
when my father, whom l thought was
the greatest man in the world, (out-
side of George Washington, whose
picture with the curly white hair and
Masonic bib apron, hung on the walls
of our spare room"), when he was
late in coming home from one of his
periodical trips to Honesdale, l hud-
died in corner and shuddered for
| was convinced in my mind that
they" had got him for sure this
time, and he would never be seen
again.
This phase of child life is most
beautifully pictured in Irving Bat
chelor's "Eben Holden" in the incl
dent where Eben takes the two chill
dren to town, gives them each sill
yer quarter, and tells them to buy
their own Christmas presents, sug-
gesting that they would likely
enough buy silver know-nothings
with their money. The little girl
asked the clerk for the article men
toned by Eben, but he was wise, and
only smiled, telling her they were
all gone. The boy bought a knife,
which Eben declared would be just
animal he had been telling them
about, which was more dangerous
than bears or panthers.
The usual number of lies was told
to me about Santa Claus; and every
Ihlh6 IhdI uo oellu Oh IlldI llhO W do
believed. Whitcomb Reilly expresses
the thought exactly in his poem en-
titled, Long Afore l knowed Who
Santa Claus Was" where he says,
Truth made out O. lies like that is
good enough for me-"
The Santa Claus dream was, to use
the language of the day, a dandy.
The stuff that came down the chin
ney tasted better and was much
nicer than anything made by ordi-
nary mortals. Once we tried to fool
Santa. Other boys said they had
worked the game successfully. If it
could be made to work only once in
our case, who could tell what that
would lead to? Perhaps every night
in the year could be turned into a
Santa Claus night. Surely that
would be worth while. Elaborate
preparations were made. Stockings
were hung up, and nothing was left
undone. In the morning it was
plainly to be seen that possibly what
might work in some other boy S
house wouldn't work in ours. The
stockings had been ignored entirely,
and in one of the old-fashioned cop
per-toed boots was freshly cut
birch "gad," which was suggestive OF
walk out to the woodshed and
| hearing some variation of that won
derful classic that freely translated
means, take off your coat, sir; and
remember that this hurts me more
than it does you'll"
But, generally speaking, the Santa
Claus dream was delightful. 1t was
like going along in a flying machine
1t was the awakening, the sudden
contact with old earth, that hurt. II
! seems like the refinement of cruelty
to stuff a boys mind full of the stuff
that Santa Claus dreams are made Of
and then laugh at him when he is
rudely awakened to the fact that il
was all a pack of lies from start to
finish. When you give a boy jolt
like that, and then tell him the other
story about the Child in the manger
the travelling star and the angelic
chorus from the skies ringing out
over the Judean hills, and one car
readily see that when you shattered
the one you did nothing to strength
en- the foundation of faith in the
other, which was laid by Him who
| caid 80 NaUarth a1acS Whan tha Cor