THE WOODCUTTER & THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

Evening Post, Volume CXXII, Issue 153, 26 December 1936, Page 5

THE WOODCUTTER & THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

. (First-prize Senior Story, by "Enbe," 17, Lower Hutt.) DEEP in the bush over the hill there. lived a woodcutter and his children. They were very poor, for it was midsummer and nobody wanted to buy the logs the woodcutter had piled up in his shed. It was a few days before Christmas, and the woodcutter felt very sad, for he had no money to-buy., gifts for his children. Poor little, things, they were so sure that Father Christmas would find their tiny hut tucked away in the hills. His heart felt very heavy as he sat on a fallen tree, trying to think of a way to obtain: gifts for his children. ."If only I could buy them some little thing," he sighed. "'" ■ ' "' '■ '"'';.; No sooner had he spoken than a tiny man dressed in shiny green fcaraka leaves and wearing a gay little cap on his head popped from behind & fern and stood twinkling his bright eyes at the woodcutter. "I am the Christmas Spirit," went on the little man, "and although lam not powerful enough to grant wishes I may sell them. I heard you sighing as I was rassing, and I. thought you might like to buy something." ■ . _ ~ "Oh, dear," answered the woodcutter, "there are some things I would Bearly love for my children, but I have no money." "You do not need money," replied the Christmas Spirit. "You need Courage and love. What do you want most in all the world?" The woodcutter thought of his children. There was Beth, aged three, John, who had just turned six, and Margaret, their "little mother," who was thirteen. They all wanted something special for Christmas, but which, he wondered, would be most disappointed if Father Christmas did not find their hut? Beth, he. thought. Yes, it would be Beth. He turned to the Christmas Spirit. "What I want most in all the world," he said, "is a baby doll that opens and shuts its eyes and says 'Mamma.' " The Spirit did not seem at all surprised. "Very well," he said, "but in return I must have your sense of colour. Is it a bargain?" The woodcutter felt very sad when he thought of the different greens of the trees he so loved, the gold of the sun in the blue of the sky, light &nd shadow, rainbows and sunsets. Then he pictured the joy in Beth's eyes when she saw the doll and he cried out, "Yes, yes. Give me the doll." There was a puff of:; smoke which covered the woodcutter so that he could see nothing. Gradually the air cleared and the woodcutter could see about him once more. But what a changed world he looked upon. Everything was grey as though a mist had descended on the world, but the woodcutter knew this was not so. He had lost his sense of colour. He could not keep the tears from his eyes and as he bowed his head he saw at his feet a beautiful baby doll. He could not see its pink cheeks and brown eyes and hair, but he knew it was beautiful. Far into the night he lay awake to think of a way to buy John's train. But it was no use. • "I shall try and find the Christmas Spirit again," he thought at last, "and perhaps he will be able to help me." The next day the woodcutter made his way to the hollow log where he had met the Spirit. "Christmas Spirit," he called, "Christmas Spirit." In an instant the cheery little man had appeared as if from nowhere. "Here I am, woodcutter," he called. "What do you want today?" "A train for my little boy," answered the woodcutter. "I cannot bear to see him disappointed at Christmas." "Very well," answered the Spirit. "I will give you one in return for your sense of melody. Is it a bargain?" _ The woodcutter felt sad indeed when he thought of the songs of the tuis and bell-birds, the happy chirping of the little songless birds, the laughter of his children, the rustle of early morning, and the ripple of the stream running over the stones at the foot of the garden Then he pictured the face of his little boy when he received the train and he cried out, "Yes, yes. Give me the train." ' "It is yours," cried the Spirit, springing into the air. There was a loud report and a singing in the woodcutter's ears Then everything was silent, and, looking down, the .woodcutter saw* a wonderful train. He carried it home with a light heart and hid it with the doll. That night he could hear the chatter of his little ones, but their voices sounded dull and monotonous. He had lost his sense of melody. But the woodcutter smiled when he thought how happy his children would be on Christmas Day. There was still Margaret, though. She did not want a doll or a train—her heart yearned for pretty clothes. The woodcutter <resolved to try and find the Spirit again next day. "Here I am, woodcutter," came the voice, as the little man appeared from behind a fern.. "What do you want today?" "Pretty clothes for my elder daughter," answered the woodcutter. "1 want her to be happy this Christmas and she longs for dainty things." "Very well," answered the Spirit. "I will grant your wish, but in return you must give me your sense of perfume. Is it a bargain?" The woodcutter felt very sad when he thought of the scents of wild honeysuckle and clematis, the smell of the pine and gum trees when the sun shone on them, freshly cut grass and the earth after rain. Then he imagined the ecstasy of his Margaret when she received the clothes, and he cried out, "Yes, yes. Give me the clothes." "They are yours," cried the Spirit. There was a tickling in the woodcutter's nose and: he gave a mighty sneeze. When he had wiped the water from his eyes he saw before him a pile of beautiful clothes just the size for a girl of thirteen. He did not know what colour they were, but he knew they were lovely. He picked them up, ran home, and hid them with the doll and the train. That night the woodcutter was happier than he had been for a long time, and just as much as the children he longed for Christmas Day. He went cheerfully about his work, although he could not hear the songs of the birds, he could not see the beautiful summer world, and he could not smell the wild flowers. At last it was Christmas Eve, and after the children had gone to bed the woodcutter crept softly into their room. He left the train at the foot of John's bed, the doll in little Beth's cot, and the clothes Reside Margaret. Then, smiling happily, he went to bed. What excitement there was the next morning when the children woke to find the gifts on their beds. The woodcutter had to get_ up and see their treasures. Sitting in his favourite chair, he watched his little ones who were wild with joy. John was running his train round in the middle of the room, Beth was cuddling her doll, and Margaret was walking up and down in her new clothes. The woodcutter felt so happy/. "It was worth it," he thought. "I would have paid twice as much to see them so happy. A soft voice which he recognised as that of the Chrifetmas Spirit whispered in his ear. "And now a gift for you. You have asked only happiness for others, and the Good Father has rewarded you." The woodcutter gazed around him. Colour was coming* back into the world. He saw the flushed cheeks of his children, he saw the scarlet and green engine wth shining silver rails, he saw the big brown eyes and curls of the doll, he saw the soft pink of Margaret's dress. Through the window the sun came streaming lighting up the happy scene, and the woodcutter could smell the flowers outside the window. Suddenly through the silence came the glorious song of a bell-bird rising to the heavens in an ecstasy of praise, and through the notes the woodcutter heard the voice of the Christmas Spirit.' "Peace on Earth, Good will towards men." .