The Children’S Book of Christmas Stories (Illustrated)

The Children’s Book of Christmas Stories (Illustrated)
Author: Various
By Asa Don Dickinson and Ada M. Skinner
Source: Wikipedia
Copyright Status: Public Domain
Children’s Christmas Stories
Category: Non-Fiction, Language and Literatures, American and Canadian literature
, Christmas stories

Many librarians have felt the need and expressed the desire for a select collection of children’s Christmas stories in one volume. This book claims to be just that and nothing more.
Each of the stories has already won the approval of thousands of children, and each is fraught with the true Christmas spirit.
It is hoped that the collection will prove equally acceptable to parents, teachers, and librarians.

The Children’s Book of Christmas Stories brings together some of the most beloved stories of all time. With 35 wonderful stories from greats like Dickens, Hans Christian Anderson, Elizabeth Harrison, and Theodore Goodridge Roberts this book will be cherished by the whole family for years to come.
We read and reviewed over 100 Christmas Stories. We felt that younger children would get the most enjoyment from the titles we selected below. We hope you enjoy reading them to your children, grandchildren, or to students in your classroom.

Table of Contents
THE CHILDREN’S BOOK OF CHRISTMAS STORIES
Edited by Asa Don Dickinson and Ada M. Skinner
PREFACE
(DETAILED) CONTENTS
I. CHRISTMAS AT FEZZIWIG’S WAREHOUSE
CHARLES DICKENS
II. THE FIR-TREE*
*Reprinted by permission of the Houghton-Mifflin Company.
III. THE CHRISTMAS MASQUERADE*
* From “The Pot of Gold”, copyright by Lothrop, Lee & Shepherd Co.
IV. THE SHEPHERDS AND THE ANGELS
ADAPTED FROM THE BIBLE
V. THE TELLTALE TILE*
* From “Kristy’s Queer Christmas,” Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.
VI. LITTLE GIRL’S CHRISTMAS
WINNIFRED E. LINCOLN
VII. “A CHRISTMAS MATINEE”*
*This story was first published in the Youth’s Companion, vol. 74.
VIII. TOINETTE AND THE ELVES*
* Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Co.
IX. THE VOYAGE OF THE WEE RED CAP
X. A STORY OF THE CHRIST-CHILD*
XI. JIMMY SCARECROW’S CHRISTMAS
MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN
XII. WHY THE CHIMES RANG*
XIII. THE BIRDS’ CHRISTMAS
XIV. THE LITTLE SISTER’S VACATION*
* This story was first published in the Youth’s Companion, vol. 77.
XV. LITTLE WOLFF’S WOODEN SHOES
XVI. CHRISTMAS IN THE ALLEY*
* From “Kristy’s Queer Christmas,” Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.
XVII. A CHRISTMAS STAR*
* Published by permission of the American Book Co.
XVIII. THE QUEEREST CHRISTMAS*
* This story was first published in the Youth’s Companion, vol. 83.
XIX. OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS
J.H. EWING
XX. A CHRISTMAS CAROL
CHARLES DICKENS
XXI. HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE SANTA MARIA FLATS*
XXII. THE LEGEND OF BABOUSCKA*
*From “The Children’s Hour,” published by the Milton Bradley Co.
XXIII. CHRISTMAS IN THE BARN*
XXIV. THE PHILANTHROPIST’S CHRISTMAS*
This story was first published in the Youth’s Companion, vol. 82.
XXV. THE FIRST CHRISTMAS-TREE
XXVI. THE FIRST NEW ENGLAND CHRISTMAS*
XXVII. THE CRATCHITS’ CHRISTMAS DINNER
(Adapted)
XXVIII. CHRISTMAS IN SEVENTEEN SEVENTY-SIX*
XXIX. CHRISTMAS UNDER THE SNOW*
*From “Kristy’s Queer Christmas,” Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.
XXX. MR. BLUFF’S EXPERIENCES OF HOLIDAYS*
XXXI. MASTER SANDY’S SNAPDRAGON*
* This story was first published in Wide Awake, vol. 26.
XXXII. A CHRISTMAS FAIRY*
* Reprinted with the permission of the Henry Altemus Company.
XXXIII. THE GREATEST OF THESE*
*This story was first printed in the Youth’s Companion, vol. 76.
XXXIV. LITTLE GRETCHEN AND THE WOODEN SHOE*
XXXV. CHRISTMAS ON BIG RATTLE*
* This story was first printed in the Youth’s Companion, Dec. 14, 1905.

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I. CHRISTMAS AT FEZZIWIG’S WAREHOUSE

CHARLES DICKENS
“Yo Ho! my boys,” said Fezziwig. “No more work to-night! Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let’s have the shutters up!” cried old Fezziwig with a sharp clap of his hands, “before a man can say, Jack Robinson….”
“Hilli-ho!” cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk with wonderful agility. “Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Cheer-up, Ebenezer!”
Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn’t have cleared away, or couldn’t have cleared away with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire, and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see on a winter’s night.
In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk and made an orchestra of it and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses Fezziwig, beaming and lovable. In came the six followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In came the cook with her brother’s particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master, trying to hide behind the girl from next door but one who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping, the old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.
When this result was brought about the fiddler struck up “Sir Roger de Coverley.” Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pairs of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been thrice as many—oh, four times as many—old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that’s not high praise, tell me higher and I’ll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig’s calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn’t have predicted at any given time what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance, advance and retire; both hands to your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig “cut”—cut so deftly that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again with a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven the domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually, as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas!

II. THE FIR-TREE*
*Reprinted by permission of the Houghton-Mifflin Company.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
Out in the woods stood a nice little Fir-tree. The place he had was a very good one; the sun shone on him; as to fresh air, there was enough of that, and round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as firs. But the little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree.
He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; he did not care for the little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they were in the woods looking for wild strawberries. The children often came with a whole pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them threaded on a straw, and sat down near the young tree, and said, “Oh, how pretty he is! what a nice little fir!” But this was what the Tree could not bear to hear.
At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year he was another long bit taller; for with fir-trees one can always tell by the shoots how many years old they are.
“Oh, were I but such a high tree as the others are!” sighed he. “Then I should be able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look into the wide world! Then would the birds build nests among my branches; and when there was a breeze, I could bend with as much stateliness as the others!”
Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds, which morning and evening sailed above them, gave the little Tree any pleasure.
In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would often come leaping along and jump right over the little Tree. Oh, that made him so angry! But two winters were past, and in the third, the tree was so large that the hare was obliged to go round it. “To grow and grow, to get older and be tall,” thought the Tree—”that, after all, is the most delightful thing in the world!”
In autumn the wood-cutters always came and felled some of the largest trees. This happened every year; and the young Fir-tree, that had now grown to a very comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent great trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking, the branches were lopped off, and the trees looked long and bare; they were hardly to be recognized, and then they were laid in carts, and the horses dragged them out of the woods.
Where did they go to? What became of them?
In spring, when the Swallows and the Storks came, the Tree asked them, “Don’t you know where they have been taken? Have you not met them anywhere?”
The Swallows did not know anything about it; but the Stork looked musing, nodded his head, and said: “Yes, I think I know; I met many ships as I was flying hither from Egypt; on the ships were magnificent masts, and I venture to assert that it was they that smelt so of fir. I may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high most majestically!”
“Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! But how does the sea look in reality? What is it like?”
“That would take a long time to explain,” said the Stork, and with these words off he went.
“Rejoice in thy growth!” said the Sunbeams, “rejoice in thy vigorous growth, and in the fresh life that moveth within thee!”
And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears over him, but the Fir understood it not.
When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down; trees which often were not even as large or of the same age as this Fir-tree, who could never rest, but always wanted to be off. These young trees and they were always the finest looking, retained their branches; they were laid on carts, and the horses drew them out of the woods.
“Where are they going to?” asked the Fir. “They are not taller than I; there was one indeed that was considerably shorter; and why do they retain all their branches? Whither are they taken?”
“We know! we know!” chirped the Sparrows. “We have peeped in at the windows in the town below! We know whether they are taken! The greatest splendor and the greatest magnificence one can imagine await them. We peeped through the windows, and saw them planted in the middle of the warm room, and ornamented with the most splendid things—with gilded apples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many hundred lights!”
“And then?” asked the Fir-tree, trembling in every bough. “And then? What happens then?”
“We did not see anything more: it was incomparably beautiful.”
“I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career,” cried the Tree, rejoicing. “That is still better than to cross the sea! What a longing do I suffer! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, and my branches spread like the others that were carried off last year! Oh, were I but already on the cart. Were I in the warm room with all the splendor and magnificence! Yes; then something better, something still grander, will surely follow, or wherefore should they thus ornament me? Something better, something still grander, MUST follow—but what? Oh, how I long, how I suffer! I do not know myself what is the matter with me!”
“Rejoice in our presence!” said the Air and the Sunlight; “rejoice in thy own fresh youth!”
But the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew, and was green both winter and summer. People that saw him said, “What a fine tree!” and toward Christmas, he was one of the first that was cut down. The axe struck deep into the very pith; the tree fell to the earth with a sigh: he felt a pang—it was like a swoon; he could not think of happiness, for he was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place where he had sprung up. He knew well that he should never see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and flowers around him, any more; perhaps not even the birds! The departure was not at all agreeable.
The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a courtyard with the other trees, and heard a man say, “That one is splendid! we don’t want the others.” Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the Fir-tree into a large and splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hanging on the walls, and near the white porcelain, stove stood two large Chinese vases with lions on the covers. There, too, were large easy chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of picture-books, and full of toys worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns—at least the children said so. And the Fir-tree was stuck upright in a cask that was filled with sand: but no one could see that it was a cask, for green cloth was hung all around it, and it stood on a large gayly colored carpet. Oh, how the Tree quivered! What was to happen? The servants, as well as the young ladies, decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets cut out of colored paper, and each net was filled with sugar-plums; and among the other boughs gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown there, and little blue and white tapers were placed among the leaves. Dolls that looked for all the world like men—the Tree had never beheld such before—were seen among the foliage, and at the very top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was really splendid—beyond description splendid.
“This evening!” said they all; “how it will shine this evening!”
“Oh,” thought the Tree, “if the evening were but come! If the tapers were but lighted! And then I wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other trees from the forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows will beat against the window-panes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter and summer stand covered with ornaments!”
He knew very much about the matter! but he was so impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his back, and this with trees is the same thing as a headache with us.
The candles were now lighted. What brightness! What splendor! The Tree trembled so in every bough that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage. It blazed up splendidly.
“Help! Help!” cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the fire.
Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he was in! He was so uneasy lest he should lose something of his splendor, that he was quite bewildered amidst the glare and brightness; when suddenly both folding-doors opened, and a troop of children rushed in as if they would upset the Tree. The older persons followed quietly; the little ones stood quite still. But it was only for a moment; then they shouted so that the whole place reechoed with their rejoicing; they danced round the tree, and one present after the other was pulled off.
“What are they about?” thought the Tree. “What is to happen now?” And the lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down they were put out, one after the other, and then the children had permission to plunder the tree. So they fell upon it with such violence that all its branches cracked; if it had not been fixed firmly in the cask, it would certainly have tumbled down.
The children danced about with their beautiful playthings: no one looked at the Tree except the old nurse, who peeped between the branches; but it was only to see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been forgotten.
“A story! a story!” cried the children, drawing a little fat man toward the tree. He seated himself under it and said: “Now we are in the shade, and the Tree can listen, too. But I shall tell only one story. Now, which will you have: that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about Klumpy-Dumpy who tumbled downstairs, and yet after all came to the throne and married the princess?”
“Ivedy-Avedy!” cried some; “Klumpy-Dumpy” cried the others. There was such a bawling and screaming—the Fir-tree alone was silent, and he thought to himself, “Am I not to bawl with the rest?—am I to do nothing whatever?” for he was one of the company, and had done what he had to do.
And the man told about Klumpy-Dumpy that tumbled down, who notwithstanding came to the throne, and at last, married the princess. And the children clapped their hands, and cried out, “Oh, go on! Do go on!” They wanted to hear about Ivedy-Avedy, too, but the little man only told them about Klumpy-Dumpy. The Fir-tree stood quite still and absorbed in thought; the birds in the woods had never related the like of this. “Klumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess! Yes! Yes! that’s the way of the world!” thought the Fir-tree, and believed it all, because the man who told the story was so good-looking. “Well, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall downstairs, too, and get a princess as wife!” And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped to be decked out again with lights, playthings, fruits, and tinsel.
“I won’t tremble to-morrow,” thought the Fir-tree. “I will enjoy to the full all my splendor. To-morrow I shall hear again the story of Klumpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy, too.” And the whole night the Tree stood still and in deep thought.
In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in.
“Now, then, the splendor will begin again,” thought the Fir. But they dragged him out of the room, and up the stairs into the loft; and here in a dark corner, where no daylight could enter, they left him. “What’s the meaning of this?” thought the Tree. “What am I to do here? What shall I hear now, I wonder?” And he leaned against the wall, lost in reverie. Time enough had he, too, for his reflections; for days and nights passed on, and nobody came up; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner out of the way. There stood the Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten.
“‘Tis now winter out of doors!” thought the Tree. “The earth is hard and covered with snow; men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here under shelter till the springtime comes! How thoughtful that is! How kind man is, after all! If it only were not so dark here, and so terribly lonely! Not even a hare. And out in the woods it was so pleasant when the snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by; yes—even when he jumped over me; but I did not like it then. It is really terribly lonely here!”
“Squeak! squeak!” said a little Mouse at the same moment, peeping out of his hole. And then another little one came. They sniffed about the Fir-tree and rustled among the branches.
“It is dreadfully cold,” said the Mouse. “But for that, it would be delightful here, old Fir, wouldn’t it?”
“I am by no means old,” said the Fir-tree. “There’s many a one considerably older than I am.”
“Where do you come from,” asked the Mice; “and what can you do?” They were so extremely curious. “Tell us about the most beautiful spot on the earth. Have you never been there? Were you never in the larder, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from above; where one dances about on tallow-candles; that place where one enters lean, and comes out again fat and portly?”
“I know no such place,” said the Tree, “but I know the woods, where the sun shines, and where the little birds sing.” And then he told all about his youth; and the little Mice had never heard the like before; and they listened and said:
“Well, to be sure! How much you have seen! How happy you must have been!”
“I?” said the Fir-tree, thinking over what he had himself related. “Yes, in reality, those were happy times.” And then he told about Christmas Eve when he was decked out with cakes and candles.
“Oh,” said the little Mice, “how fortunate you have been, old Fir-tree!”
“I am by no means old,” said he. “I came from the woods this winter; I am in my prime, and am only rather short for my age.” Source: Wikipedia