Christmas & Foolish Wife


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“Christmas is approaching. You must clean the house well,” said Jack to his wife. The silly wife thought that Christmas must be a man. “Are you Christmas?” she asked all the people passing by. One wily person, who was going down the street, said that his name was Christmas. The silly wife gave him everything inside the house. When her husband came to know of this, he was very angry.

“Be careful this time. Keep the pig for Christmas,” warned Jack. The stupid woman called the man who called himself Christmas and gave him the pig. When her husband came home and asked her about the pig, she said, “But you told me to give it to Christmas!” He held his head in despair and vowed never to say anything to her.

-The End-

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A Letter from Santa Claus – by Mark Twain


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Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Moon Christmas Morning

My Dear Susy Clemens,

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me . . . . I can read your and your baby sister’s jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters–I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself–and kissed both of you, too . . . . But . . . there were . . . one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock . . . .

There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which . . . I took to be “a trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o’clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the door.

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A Kidnapped Santa Claus – by L. Frank Baum


A Kidnapped Santa Claus

Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one year’s end to another.

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 It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is happy and gay. The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps rollicking between its green banks; the wind whistles merrily in the trees; the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass, and the violets and wild flowers look smilingly up from their green nests. To laugh one needs to be happy; to be happy one needs to be content. And throughout the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus contentment reigns supreme.

     On one side is the mighty Forest of Burzee. At the other side stands the huge mountain that contains the Caves of the Daemons. And between them the Valley lies smiling and peaceful.

     One would think that our good old Santa Claus, who devotes his days to making children happy, would have no enemies on all the earth; and, as a matter of fact, for a long period of time he encountered nothing but love wherever he might go.

     But the Daemons who live in the mountain caves grew to hate Santa Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that he made children happy.

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The Little Match Girl


The Little Match Girl is a short story by Danish poet and author Hans Christian Andersen. The story is about a dying child’s dreams and hope, and was first published in 1845.

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Published: December 1845
Author: Hans Christian Andersen
Adaptations: The Little Matchgirl (2006)
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Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening– the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

A Medieval Christmas Carol: King Charles the Fat Encounters His Christmas Ghost


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Grimm’s Saga No. 467: King Charles Sees his Ancestors in Hell and in Paradise
On Christmas Eve King Charles (The Fat) lay in bed early in the morning wanting to rest after the long mass. He was almost asleep when he heard a terrifying voice that spoke to him: “Charles, your spirit shall now leave your body, you shall see God’s judgment and then you will return again!” Immediately his ghost left his body and he found himself in the presence of a spirit that was completely white. It held an illuminated thread that shone as brightly as a falling star and said: “Hold onto the end of this string, bind it firmly around the thumb of your right hand. I will lead you to the place of infernal agony.” After these words the spirit stepped in front of him, unwound the thread from a glowing ball and led him through deep valleys filled with smoking pools and fountains. In these fountains boiled sulfur, pitch, lead and wax. There he recognized the bishops and priests from the time of his father and ancestors. Charles fearfully asked them why they were to suffer such torments. They replied, “Because we spread war and discord among the nobility instead of admonishing peace.”
While they were still talking, black demons flew toward him riding glowing hooks and they all tried to seize the string the king was holding. But they could not do it because of the king’s quick thinking and they all had to fall back. Now coming from behind, the devils  wanted to pull Charles with their long hooks and induce him to fall. But the spirit guiding him wrapped the thread around his shoulders and held him back tightly.

The Night Before Christmas – most popular tales ever


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‘Twas the night before Christmas,

When all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

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The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

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The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

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The Gift of the Magi (O.Henry)


The Gift of the Magi

by O. Henry


An illustration for the story The Gift of the Magi by the author O. Henry

ONE DOLLAR AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS. THAT WAS ALL. AND SIXTY CENTS of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing left to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the look-out for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”

The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of “Dillingham” looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. To-morrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling–something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 Bat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

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