Speaker 1: Twas the night before Christmas A visit from Saint Nicholas
by Clement Seymour. Twas the night before Christmas, when all
through the house not a creature was stirring, not even
a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. The
children were nestled, all snug in their beds, while visions
of sugar plums danced in their heads. And Mamma in
her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled
our brains for a long winter's nap, when out on
the lawn there arose such a clatter. I sprang from
the bed to see what was the matter. Away to
the window, I flew, like a flashed or open the
shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the
breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of
midday to objects below. When what to my wandering eyes
should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
with the little old driver so lively and quick I
knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick. More
rapid than eagles, his coursers. They came and he whistled
and shouted and called them by name, Now Dasher, now Dancer,
now Brancer, and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donder
and Blitzen. To the top of the porch, to the
top of the wall. Now dash away, dash away, dash away,
all as dry leaves that before the wild hurriganan fly.
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house top the courses they flew
with a sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too,
And then twinkling, I heard on the roof the brancing
and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in
my head and was turning round down the chimney, Saint
Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in
fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes
were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of
toys he had flung on his back, and he looked
like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes, how
they twinkled, his dimples, how merry, his cheeks were like roses,
his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was
drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his
chin was as white as the snow. The stump of
a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the
snow at encircled his head like a wreath. He had
a broad face and a little round belly that shook
when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. He was
chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf. And I
laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. A
wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his
work and filled all the stockings. Then turned with a jerk,
and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving
a nod up the chimney, he rose. He sprang to
his sleigh, to his teem, gave a whistle, and away
they all flew like the down of a thistle. But
I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight,
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,
And of twas the night before Christmas.