In this country the people, generally, do not pay great attention to Christmas; but in all European countries it is noticed by a variety of customs, some of which are pleasing and interesting. In England, though the Christmas customs have many of them ceased, there are others which are kept up and observed with much interest. It is there a time for making presents, particularly to friends, and it seldom happens that any boy or girl does not receive some gratifying mark of regard in this way.
Christmas is a time when hospitality and kind feelings are cherished and displayed. The rich then remember the poor, and there are few indeed, on that day, that have not the means of making a feast, though in many cases it may be a humble one.
Among the superstitious notions of the olden time, was this: they used to believe that St. Nicholas, familiarly called Santaclaus, used to come down chimney on Christmas eve, the night before Christmas, and put nuts, cakes, sugarplums, and pieces of money, into the stockings of such people as would hang them up for the purpose. Now it really did often happen, that when the stocking was hung up, in the morning it was found stuffed with such things as children take delight in! I have seen this actually done: and in New York, where Santaclaus is supposed to be at home, it is still practised. But the secret of the matter is this: the parents and friends, when children are snug in bed, and fast asleep, slip into the room, and fill their stockings with such things as please the young sleepers. In the morning, when they get up, they find their treasures, and give old Santaclaus all the credit of the pleasant trick.
There are other very agreeable customs connected with Christmas, but I suppose my readers know as much about them as I do. I will, however, say a few words about twelfth-day, which occurs on the twelfth day after Christmas; being the last of the Christmas holidays, it is kept up with great glee in England.
In certain parts of Devonshire, the farmer, attended by his workmen, with a large pitcher of cider, goes to the apple orchard on the eve of twelfth-day, and there, standing round one of the best bearing trees, they drink the following toast three times:—
“Here’s to thee, old apple-tree,
Hence thou may’st bud, and whence thou may’st blow,
And whence thou may’st bear apples enow!
Hats full! caps full!
Bushel—bushel—sacks full,