An Interview With Father Christmas.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIV, Issue 150, 21 December 1907, Page 13

An Interview With Father Christmas.

Jty J. £1. Jacobs, Author of '"A Talisman," eto. (All Eights Eeservcd.)

As I dozed at my desk in the twilight, a sudden chilliness seemed to shoot through the room, and all at once I became, aware that a visitor had entered unannounced. "Who ever —?" I shivered pettishly. "You haven't forgotten me in. a twelve-month, surely?" broke in the intruder with a breezy laugh. "Sorry I haven't a card with me — although no ono has half so many printed as I!"' T sprang to my feet with a start. "Why, FATHER CHRISTMAS!" I cried, as his hearly handshake sent a warm glow pulsing through my veins. "Welcome to town ! You caught me napping, but — you're a littlo before your time, you know!" 1 added with an apologetic glance at the clock. His ruddy face was wreathed in smiles, and the very sight of it was enough to thaw a Gorgon's head. Cheerily he waved aside my offer to relievo him of his cloak of scarlet and ermine. { "No compliments, please — save- the Compliments of the Season !" said he, making himself at home in 'the cosy armchair I wheeled up to the hearth. But what about his luggage? 1 asked solicitously. "Oh, that's all right!" laughed my guest merrily. "You see, my parcels aren't due before midnight and my boxes would only be in the way until Ihe day after to-morrow. The fact is," he lowered his voice confidentially, "in spite of all the tittle-tattle about 'oldfoshioned Christmas' that reaches my cars, 1 rather take a pride in being upto date — you don't happen to know anyone, by tho way, who's looking for a reindeer sloigh in exchange for a motorcar?" I was sorry that I didn't, but hastened to assure him warmly that I thought him every whit as good as ever he was ; and he smiled gratefully. "But it has dawned upon me of late," he went on, "that, nowadays, if you don't tell the public frankly what you arc, there's no lack of folks to tell them what you aren't. So I've made up my mind to shun the wily interviewer no longer — and here I am, come to give myself un!" I was overwhelmed at the signal hon- ! our. For tha moment I doubted whether I was on my head or my heels— but rememuered in time that I was sitting down. Quickly I snatched pen and paper, and without further parley began plying my illustrious subject with the usual questions. First, as to his ago? "An awkward question to a man of my years!'.' The millenarian stroked his venerable beard reflectively. "Better put ins clown as 1907. and be on the safe side." > v | I gayo him my word he didn't look - half his age. "And yet," he chuckled, "some of your critics affirm that I'm a good deal older than I pretend to be— they'll bo accusing, me of using hair-dye next!" ln full view of his hoary locks, the idea proved so irresistibly comical that I threw myself back in my chair and roared, and he chimed in. "Others, again, want to say that I'm not really myself at all, but two or three other | people rolled into one ! Not that it would be- surprising if my earliest recollections were a bit mixed, considering the rough time of it I had as a youngster. It's strange for an old fogey like me to look back all these years, and recall how he was once regarded as quite a youthful firebrand — a regular anarchist, ha, ha, ha! It makes one feel creepy, though, even now, to think of how my enemies lay in wait for me year after -year! But I never said die, and to-day — well, I liGpo I haven't a single enemy left in the world." "Not in this country, anyhow!" I assented. ' Wo, at least, have always treated you well." "Have you indeed?" he laughed heartily. "Do you know that a mere trifle of two hundred and fifty years ago this very day, your Long Parliament voted me a rogue and a vagabond, and resolved to expel me from the Country as a sort of alien undesirable?" I remarked nervously that it could only havo been a momentary aberration, and I hoped he bore no malice. "Malice!" ho seemed hugely tickled by the word. "Father Christmas to bear malice! That's the best joke I've heard for many a hundred year ! Come, come, isn't it my mission in the world to free it from malice and envy and greed? And when I shall havo rid ib of these " "Yes, yes?" I interposed eagerly. "Why my occupation will be gone," ho smiled. "And the world's too!" This last phrase' rather puzzled me, but I ' proceeded to interrogate him in due form as to his personal likes and dislikes. Ho was no great reader, but loved a happy love-story. In music, his taste- was all for simple melodies, and fireworks grated on his ears. "Problem pictures" were beyond him, .but "art for heart's sake" was his delight. "If yon don't mind my mentioning it," I nut forth hesitatingly, "you are generally credited with being a bit of a gourmand?" "N,o excuses needed, my dear sir!" he responded with a twinkle in his eye. "Good fellowship has no closer ally than good cheer." Aud yet, my appetite is nothing to what it used to be. Where are the boars' heads and the peacocks, and the oxen roasted whole of olden times? Haven't I come down to geese and turkeys and simple joints?" "And puddings!" I reminded. "Ha, ha, ha!" he beamed. "To think that you worry over tho name of the man who invented guopowdcr, while the woman who made the first Christmas pudding is unknown!" "-•is for sports — are you still as fond of them as you were?" Ho shook his head half-regretfully. "I'm afraid I'vo sadly fallen off in this respect, and the new athletic craze has almost passed me by. Nowadays, I'm not equal to much more than a round game by the fireside, but" — ho flung the words out like a challenge — "give mo a good old-fashioned frost, and I'll hold my own on the ice with any of 'em!" I asked if he'd mind giving me his political views. "Not at all!" was the cheery reply. "I think I may fairly call myself Liberal in general, but Conservative in keeping up my old habits and customs. No one can be keener on union than I, or more in. favour of Home Rule at the hearth ; and may I not call myself a Socialist, too, in that I aiu nothing if not social? In fine, I've- a footing in every party; although I've heard say," he ended modestly, "that no party 'is better than a Christmas ono." "By the 1 way," I bethought, "are you a Suffragist ?" He stared blankly. "Oh, of course, it must bo rather new to you : Are you in favour of women having equal rights v wilh men?" "Decidedly not!" I was quite startled at the vigour of his dissent. "At my table they have always ranked above men and always will while- I havo anything to say." "You have the name for being fond of children," I ventured, "It's almost a pity there's no Mother Christmas to help you." "And a. fine handful she'd have," he laughed, "seeing that all the little ones of the world are mine by adoption ! From the Unie I. was a child gjysojf,"

he went on lovingly, "my greatest plea* sure has been, to see them welcome me. And yet I suppose I must have softened somewhat towards them too, for— would you believe it? — my annual gifts to them used invariably to include a gentle reminder in the shape of a— rod !" I murmured the old proverb, but he shook his head playfully. "No, no, the modern version is a better one : 'Spare the child, and spoil the rod!,'." "'Some aristocratic friends of yours," I pursued, "are beginning to find your tastes rather low, and to hint at your hobnobbing with people cfuite outside the pale of society. Can I tell- them anything to relieve their-minds?',' What a noble wrath blazed up in tha fine old fellow's eye ! "Yes !" be burst forth. ''Tell them, that I- don't care two straws for their good opinion, and that they are no real friends of mine. All my lifo I've felt moro at home, in .the hovel than in the .palace, and the title I am proudest of is that of "The Poor Man's Friend.' Your superior persons may welcome mo as a distraction, but, however could my poor oxist without me?" 1 expressed tho hope that the advance of Equality and of Science might in time leave him with 110 poor ■to befriend. "Do you think so?' he smiled doubtfully. "Personally, I should almost regret it." I looked at him mystified. "Because," ho went on slyly, "if .there were no people in distress, there would be fewer opportunities for the others to do good, and the world might become a worse place instead of a better. Nevertheless," he laughed,' "if I' only had- tho -chance— well, I'd chance 'it! But it's getting -late." Ho rose as if to go. "But what's your hurry?" • I pegged. "Why is your stay with us so short. Think what a happy world it would 09 if avc could have Christmas with us all ,tfie year round!" "Really?"- He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Wouldn't I pall on you if I stayed too' long?" I shook my head earnestly. "You greedy man, don't you think other lands have need of me— and other planets, too? You look surprised, , but if you coidd only visit' me in Mars — ! Of course, I . have 'exepp* tional advantages there," he added. J "Why?" I enquired eagerly. "Because the force of gravity is lessT* he chuckled, reaching , for his, cap.,, "One last question,"' I faltered: "To what do I owe the honour of this visit? Why do you single me out .to take the woild into your confidence, instead of R~ — or X , who think themselves so clever?" , , "Why you?" he eyed me quizzing}.?. "Because of all the dumpy ■ scribes -in Britain half an hour ago, , your worship was about the dumpiest!" ~ My pride fell, and my face with -it. He placed a soothing hand upon my shoulder. "Feel better now?" he asked with his irresistible smile. I laughed with all my heart, and in echoing laughter he vanished from my sight. But I feel his presence still.