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This Santa Claus business is played out. It's a sneaking, underhand method,

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and the sooner it's exposed, the
better. For a parent to get up

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under cover of the darkness of night
and palm off a ten cent necktie on

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a boy who had been expecting a
ten dollar watch and then say that an

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angel sent it to him is low, undeniably low. I had a good

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opportunity of observing how the thing worked
this Christmas. In the case of young

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Hoodoo mc figgin, the son and
heir of the mc phiggins at whose house

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I board. Hudo mc phiggin is
a good boy, a religious boy.

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He had been given to understand that
Santa Claus would bring nothing to his father

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and mother, because grown up people
don't get presents from the angels. So

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he saved up all his pocket money
and bought a box of cigars for his

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father and a seventy five cent diamond
brooch for his mother. His own fortunes

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he left in the hands of the
angels, but he prayed. He prayed

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every night for weeks that Santa Claus
would bring him a pair of skates and

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a puppy dog, and an air
gun and a bicycle. And a Noah's

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ark, and a sleigh and a
drum, altogether about a hundred and fifty

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dollars worth of stuff. Uf I
went into Hoodoo's room quite early Christmas morning.

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I had an idea that the scene
would be interesting. I woke him

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up, and he sat up in
bed, his eyes glistening with radiant expectation,

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and began hauling things out of his
stocking. The first parcel was bulky.

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It was done up quite loosely and
had an odd look generally ha ha,

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Hoodoo cried gleefully as he began ondoing
it. I'll bet it's the puppy

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dog, all wrapped up in paper. And was it the puppy dog?

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No, by no means. It
was a pair of nice strong number four

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boots laces and all labeled Hoodoo from
Santa Claus, and underneath Santa Claus had

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written ninety five net. The boy's
jaw fell with delight. It's boots,

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he said, and plunged in his
hand again. He began hauling away at

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another parcel, with renewed hope on
his face. This time the thing seemed

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like a little round box. Hoodoo
tore the paper off with a feverish hand.

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He shook it, something rattled inside. It's a watch in chain.

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It's a watch in chain, he
shouted. Then he pulled the lid off,

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and was it a watch in chain? No, it was a box

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of nice, brand new celluloid collars, a dozen of them, all alike,

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and all his own size. The
boy was so pleased that you could

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see his face crack up with pleasure. He waited a few minutes until his

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intense joy subsided. Then he tried
again. This time, the packet was

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long and hard. It resisted the
touch and had a sort of funnel shape.

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It's a toy pistol, said the
boy, trembling with excitement. Gee,

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I hope there are lots of caps
with it. I'll fire some off

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now and wake up father. No, my poor child, you will not

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wake your father with that. It
is a useful thing, but it needs

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not caps, and it fires no
bullets. And you cannot wake a sleeping

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man with a tooth brush. Yes, it was a tooth brush, a

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regular beauty, pure bone all through, and ticketed with a little paper.

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Who do from Santa Claus? Again? The expression of intense joy passed over

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the boy's face, and the tears
of gratitude started from his eyes. He

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wiped them away with his tooth brush
and passed on. The next packet was

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much larger and evidently contained something soft
and bulky. It had been too long

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to go into the stocking and was
tied outside. I wonder what this is,

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Hoodoo, mused, half afraid to
open it. Then his heart gave

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a great leap, and he forgot
all his other presents in the anticipation of

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this one. It's the drum,
he gasped. It's the drum, all

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wrapped up, drum. Nothing.
It was pants, a pair of the

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nicest little short pants, yellowish brown
short pants with dear little stripes of color

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running across both ways. And here
again Santa Claus had written, Who do

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from Santa Claus? One fort net? But there was something wrapped up in

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it. Oh, yes, there
was a pair of braces wrapped up in

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it. Brace's with a little steel
sliding thing so that you could slide your

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pants up to your neck if you
wanted to. The boy gave a dry

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sob of satisfaction. Then he took
out his last present. It's a book,

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he said, as he unwrapped it. I wonder if it is fairy

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stories or adventures. Oh, I
hope it's adventures. I'll read it all

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morning. No, Hodoo, it
was not precisely adventures. It was a

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small family bible. Hoodo had now
seen all his presents, and he arose

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and dressed. But he still had
the fun of playing with his toys.

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That is always the chief delight of
Christmas morning. First he played with his

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tooth brush. He got a whole
lot of water and brushed all his teeth

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with it. This was huge.
Then he played with his callers. He

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had no end of fun with them, taking them all out one by one

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and swearing at them, and then
putting them back and swearing at the whole

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lot together. The next toy was
his pants. He had immense fun there,

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putting them on and taking them off
again, and then trying to guess

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which side was which by merely looking
at them. After that, he took

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his book and read some adventures called
Genesis till breakfast time. Then he went

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downstairs and kissed his father and mother. His father was smoking a cigar,

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and his mother had her new brooch
on. Hoodoo's face was thoughtful, and

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a light seemed to have broken in
upon his mind. Indeed, I think

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it altogether likely that next Christmas he
will hang on to his own money and

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take chances on what the angels bring. End of Hoodoo mcphiggin's Christmas by Stephen Leacock