LITTLE JOHNNY ON CHRISTMAS

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIV, Issue 305, 23 December 1903, Page 5 (Supplement)

LITTLE JOHNNY ON CHRISTMAS

(By Ambrose Bierce,)

Crismas is the day wich Santy Clos was born, and thats wy I say he is the boss. Ole Gaffer Peters, wich has got the bold hed, he was to our house one Crismas mornin, and we all wisht him a Mary Crismas. Ole Gaffer he looked sollem out of his eys and shook his bold hed, and bime by he sed, ole Gaffer did, It is oiffe for to think it is here agin! My mother she sed, Goodness mc! don't you like Crismas? Ole Gaffer he sed, No, mom, I don't, cos the children make sech a gum dasted noise all day that a feller is woke up evry five minnits.

Uncle Ned, wich has ben in Injy and erry were, he sed one time, Johnny, do you kno how thay keep Crismas in Madigigasker? 1 sed no how did thay, and he sed, It is mity simple and saves a heep of trubble. Frinstence a man has got 2 nevews, like you and Billy. Course he wonts for to do the square thing by them, but in Madgigasker the houses don't have no chimnys and Santy Clos he cant get in. So the boyses uncle he goes to the bank and draws out all his munny and puts it in his pocket. Then he sels evry thing wich he can and puts the munny in his pocket tooo. Then he borroes all wich he can get and pockets that, same way. Then he goes out on the hi way and robs the way farer and pockets the ill got gain. Billy he spoke up and sed. Seems to mc Madgigasker is a mity fine place for to be a boys uncle in. But Uncle Ned he only jest sed, As I was a tryin for to xplain wen I was rudely intxupted, wen the Madgigasker

uncle has got all his pockets ful of munny he goes on Crismas morning and lies down at the feets of his 2 nevews like a unresistin child; and drinks doform and lets natchure take her cource.

I ast Uncle Ned hohw it was in Pattygony, and he thot a wile and bime by sed. In that happy Hand, bloomin with perpettle snow, it is differnt. There on the day fore Crismas the good uncle rises with the lark and puts on his gaest atire and goes fourth caroling hi and fre with a lite and joyus hart. The erth is all smiles and the sun looks down and winx. The flowrs bust out evry were and the litle berds sing like thair harts was broke and the lams thay skip in thair beds of mint by the waside. All natchure looks brite and butifle to the good uncle, cos the laws of his country is riteous and mercifle and he dont have to submit to justice jest cos it is Crismas. We ast him wot the Pattygony laws was, and he rwote them down for u&, and here thay are, bad Bp*illin and all:

"Be it enacted by the Senate ami House of Representatives of Patagonia in Congress assembled that from and after the passage .of this Act it shall be lawful for, and is hereby made the duty of, the Public Executioner to put to death any citizen who on the day before Christmas in any year shall file with the said Public Executioner a written application for that great mercy. Provided that the said applicant shall show to the said official, that the said applicant has more than one niece or nephew living and expectant. And be it further enacted that the said applicant's death shall be full and legal satisfaction for all claims and demands arising out of anything that occurred on the Twenty-fifth day of December in any year in another country." But I never see sech a senseless rigymy role in all my life, and Billy he dident too in hisen. And now for a story wich my sisters yung man he tole mc: One time thare was a travler in a country wich lies a long way beyon the

North Pole, and were it is so cold that fler wil not burn and no boddy can live. One dark nite the travler was passin thru a dredfle forist, and he come to a house a mile big. He nocked, the travler did, and as no boddy sed stay out he went in. It was dark in side too, an he kept a fallin over things wich was pile up evry were, and wen he felt them thy was all litle drums and wagons and dols and candy sojers and evry thing wich was nice. After he had went thru ten thowsen hundred rooms and cudent find a bed bigger than his hat he thot he herd sum boddy ai, and he se, Hoo is thar? Then a voice it spoke np in the dark and sed, No boddy only but jest poor ole mc. The travler he was a good man and be sed, You gam doodled fool, wot is the matter?

The voice it sobbed like its hart was broke and sed, Matter enoughf, I ges, cos it is coming on for to be Crismas. The travler he sed, Wei, wen it cums

it brings good cheer, dont it, I nevr herd sech blasfeem!

But the feller in the dark he only jest blubberd ol the more, and bime by sed, No, it dont! No boddy asks mc to dinner, and hue not let toast my shins at eny boddys fier, and my lips is a stranger to eg nog, and plum puddin is to mc a ole woomans tale, and I never had a pressent in my life! The travler he was real mooved and he sed, Poor ole beggar, wy dont you hang yure stockins up for Santy Clos to put things in? The Voice it busted out beUerin lowder than ever, and bime by it sed by tween its snuffels, Wot under the sun do you mean? Imr Santy my own self. But if I was Santy I wuld give my self a litle red waggen and a bio gun and a jack nife and a hammer and. all the candy wich I culd eat, cost the Bible it see do as you wuld like to be dun by. And that is wy I say chairity is the root of all cavil and rores like distent thunder.