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Some Short Christmas Stories
Some Short Christmas
Stories
by Charles Dickens
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Some Short Christmas Stories
A CHRISTMAS TREE
I have been looking on； this evening； at a merry company of children
assembled round that pretty German toy； a Christmas Tree。 The tree was
planted in the middle of a great round table； and towered high above their
heads。 It was brilliantly lighted by a multitude of little tapers； and
everywhere sparkled and glittered with bright objects。 There were rosy…
cheeked dolls； hiding behind the green leaves； and there were real watches
（with movable hands； at least； and an endless capacity of being wound up）
dangling from innumerable twigs； there were French…polished tables；
chairs； bedsteads； wardrobes； eight…day clocks； and various other articles
of domestic furniture （wonderfully made； in tin； at Wolverhampton）；
perched among the boughs； as if in preparation for some fairy
housekeeping； there were jolly； broad…faced little men； much more
agreeable in appearance than many real menand no wonder； for their
heads took off； and showed them to be full of sugar…plums； there were
fiddles and drums； there were tambourines； books； work…boxes； paint…
boxes； sweetmeat…boxes； peep…show boxes； and all kinds of boxes； there
were trinkets for the elder girls； far brighter than any grown…up gold and
jewels； there were baskets and pincushions in all devices； there were guns；
swords； and banners； there were witches standing in enchanted rings of
pasteboard； to tell fortunes； there were teetotums； humming…tops； needle…
cases； pen…wipers； smelling…bottles； conversation…cards； bouquet…holders；
real fruit； made artificially dazzling with gold leaf； imitation apples； pears；
and walnuts； crammed with surprises； in short； as a pretty child； before me；
delightedly whispered to another pretty child； her bosom friend； 〃There
was everything； and more。〃 This motley collection of odd objects；
clustering on the tree like magic fruit； and flashing back the bright looks
directed towards it from every sidesome of the diamond…eyes admiring it
were hardly on a level with the table； and a few were languishing in timid
wonder on the bosoms of pretty mothers； aunts； and nursesmade a lively
realisation of the fancies of childhood； and set me thinking how all the
trees that grow and all the things that come into existence on the earth；
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Some Short Christmas Stories
have their wild adornments at that well…remembered time。
Being now at home again； and alone； the only person in the house
awake； my thoughts are drawn back； by a fascination which I do not care
to resist； to my own childhood。 I begin to consider； what do we all
remember best upon the branches of the Christmas Tree of our own young
Christmas days； by which we climbed to real life。
Straight； in the middle of the room； cramped in the freedom of its
growth by no encircling walls or soon…reached ceiling； a shadowy tree
arises； and； looking up into the dreamy brightness of its top for I observe
in this tree the singular property that it appears to grow downward towards
the earthI look into my youngest Christmas recollections！
All toys at first； I find。 Up yonder； among the green holly and red
berries； is the Tumbler with his hands in his pockets； who wouldn't lie
down； but whenever he was put upon the floor； persisted in rolling his fat
body about； until he rolled himself still； and brought those lobster eyes of
his to bear upon mewhen I affected to laugh very much； but in my heart
of hearts was extremely doubtful of him。 Close beside him is that
infernal snuff…box； out of which there sprang a demoniacal Counsellor in a
black gown； with an obnoxious head of hair； and a red cloth mouth； wide
open； who was not to be endured on any terms； but could not be put away
either； for he used suddenly； in a highly magnified state； to fly out of
Mammoth Snuff…boxes in dreams； when least expected。 Nor is the frog
with cobbler's wax on his tail； far off； for there was no knowing where he
wouldn't jump； and when he flew over the candle； and came upon one's
hand with that spotted backred on a green groundhe was horrible。
The cardboard lady in a blue…silk skirt； who was stood up against the
candlestick to dance； and whom I see on the same branch； was milder； and
was beautiful； but I can't say as much for the larger cardboard man； who
used to be hung against the wall and pulled by a string； there was a sinister
expression in that nose of his； and when he got his legs round his neck
（which he very often did）； he was ghastly； and not a creature to be alone
with。
When did that dreadful Mask first look at me？ Who put it on； and
why was I so frightened that the sight of it is an era in my life？ It is not a
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Some Short Christmas Stories
hideous visage in itself； it is even meant to be droll； why then were its
stolid features so intolerable？ Surely not because it hid the wearer's face。
An apron would have done as much； and though I should have preferred
even the apron away； it would not have been absolutely insupportable； like
the mask。 Was it the immovability of the mask？ The doll's face was
immovable； but I was not afraid of HER。 Perhaps that fixed and set
change coming over a real face； infused into my quickened heart some
remote suggestion and dread of the universal change that is to come on
every face； and make it still？ Nothing reconciled me to it。 No
drummers； from whom proceeded a melancholy chirping on the turning of
a handle； no regiment of soldiers； with a mute band； taken out of a box；
and fitted； one by one； upon a stiff and lazy little set of lazy…tongs； no old
woman； made of wires and a brown…paper composition； cutting