The Greeneville daily sun. (Greeneville, Tenn.) 1918-1920, 1919-12-18
T + = :. Il = Il e II =
CHRISTMAS
In the Country
Long Ago
By B. CLAY MIDDLETON



Kind reader did you ever creep out
of warm, snug little trundle bed at
an old fashioned country home on
Christmas morning to see what Santa
Claus had left in your stocking, and
to view with wondrous amazement
the big tracks he had left in the ashes
of the wide old fireplace where he slid
down the chimney to leave his gifts
If so, you can appreciate what !
have to say.
To visualize beautiful Christmas
morning of the long ago at the old
country home, imagine a snow that
spread like an immaculate blanket
over the hills and valleys, and made
the murmuring pines, the lowly ce-
dars and the verdant holly in their
evergreen foliage to give a touch of
rare and exquisite charm to the land
scape, and made the red birds look
like living rubies as they fitted hither
and thither among the branches of the
holly and cedar, and chirped in festive
joy their sweet untutored song of
"Peace on earth, good will to men,
When / was a country boy there
were no Christmas trees set up in the
home for Santa Claus to hang his
gifts upon like those arranged for the
children today.
was taught TO hang UP my stock
ing upon the jams of the wide old
fireplace. nc@r where the brindle
pussy cat often sat, and wiped her
face with a dainty paw as she watched
with eternal vigilance" for the gray
cricket that dared to come forth and
chirp upon the hearth.
The big stone chimney built by my
ancestors, and up which the warm
hright flames of hospitality had roared
for an hundred years, furnished an
easy means Of ingress and egress for
one who could climb about doing good
to little children like dear old Santa
Claus. Could | doubt his existence.
no; for had | not seen his very tracks
in the ashes on Christmas morning.
was we'll grounded in the faith, and
those tracks in the ashes and his gen
erous gift of stripped stick candy left
in my stockings is yet a memory sweet
to contemplate even though the frost
UP on my temples is almost white as
the snow upon the ground OF the
Christmas morning long ago.
enjoyed the old fashioned Christ
mas, and though Santa Claus was
very important part of that happy oc-
casion, yet there was something more
to add to my joy.
It was the season of the year when
the "rusty coat" and Timber twig"
apples were devoured, and the big
barrel of cider made from "sheep
nose" apples was drank by the "gourd
full"
There was much hospitality and
fellowship displayed by the plain peo-
ple where / was reared, and that fun
damental principle that comes ring
ing down the centuries from the ce-
dar thickets and olive groves OF the
old Judean hills, mo man lives to
himself alone" when he has bar
rel of good cider, was demonstrated
at Christmas time in the heart of
Gods country where was born.
In that settlement the folks would
gather in groups on Christmas eve
and go serenading, and in their glad
mission of Scattering bright smiles
all around them" it is safe to say that
no neighbor who had supply of
good apples or barrel of cider was
overlooked, and he would have felt
sighted if he had been for the latch
string hung upon the outside of the
doors of the homes of, that commu-
nifty, and the serenaders we've always
treated to a generous supply of APP
pies, cider and ginger cakes for a
chaser.
That was a glad season when there
was music in the air as well as JOY IN
the hearts of the people. There was
always one or more old fashioned fidt
dlers in every serenading party, and
when he Jared forth on mission of
conquest he gathered his rude fiddle
under his arm, "as a hen gathereth
her brood under her wing"
1t has been my pleasure at one
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