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Speaker 1: The Goblins Christmas by Elizabeth Anderson. Once upon a time

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I visited Fairyland and spent a day in Goblin Town.

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The people there are much like ourselves, only they are very,

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very small and roguish. They play pranks on one another

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and have great fun. They are good natured and jolly,

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and rarely get angry. But if one does get angry,

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he quickly recovers his good nature and joins again in

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the sport. If a goblin should continue angry, he would

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take on some visible form. Perhaps he would become a

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toad or a squirrel or some other little animal, and

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would have to live here on the earth plain for evermore.

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But if he keeps good natured, he can come here

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and have his fun and not be seen by any

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one except a seer or a very wise person. Goblins

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are gracious to the wise people now, but they were

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not always so. A long long time ago, on a

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Christmas Eve, the fairy folk were having great space. All

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the little people of the unseen world had gathered together

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in the earth realm. There were brownies and gnomes and elves.

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Even some little cherubs had joined them. They were having

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a wild dance and a gay time. When who should

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appear but Chris Kringle. Now the fairies did not know

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that he was a magician or seer, and so they

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tried to make sport of him. But Chris, by his

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wonderful magic, changed them into the most beautiful toys. They

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became straight little jumping jacks, and dolls and bright dresses,

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and the dearest little rabbit with white soft fur, and

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somewhere in the bottom of the sleigh one was turned

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into a cute little teddy bear. Then old Chris tucked

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all these toys into his roomy sleigh and shook the

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reins of his waiting steed. Go on, he said, for

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I've many many a chimney to reach to night. Now

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this is the tale of the Goblin's Christmas that the

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moonbeam told, as they heard it from the fairy Queen,

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who declares that every word of it is perfectly true.

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The big bright moon hung high and round in a

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densely darkened sky. The tall pines swayed and mocked and groaned.

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The mountains grew so high that the man in the

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moon came out and said, ho, spooks for a merry dance.

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The winds blew hard, the caverns roar, while o'er the

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earth they prance. A witch and a goblin led the

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sprites out from the sky, they sprung, and down the

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milky way they slid, and over a chasm, swung the

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streams around ran witch's broth. The fumes were strong and rank.

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These elfin creatures all were wroth. While of the stuff

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they drank. The cunning Moon looked on and laughed with

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a shrill and sneering jibe. Her soul grew fat to

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see them shaft this mad and elfish tribe. The big

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black cauldron boiled so high with food for these queer

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mites that it lit the world throughout the sky, and

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down came all the sprites. Their mad career upset a star.

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As through the air they flew, It cringed in fear,

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and shot afar and fell where no one knew. Orion's

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sword was broken, bits Corona's crown was gone, Cappella seemed

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to lose her wits, while all so longed for dawn.

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Then from the night there came a sound of sleigh

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bells ringing. Sweet out of the chaos came a man,

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Chris Kringle, for his Christmas treat ho Chris they cried,

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we'll have some fun. We'll bind the old man down.

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We'll tie him up and toss him more into our

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goblin town. They climbed the sleigh with shout and din

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to bind his hands and feet. A hundred strong, they

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clambered in our good old Chris to meet. He sat

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quite still with twinkling eyes. Then seized his mystic wand

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he raised it up and waved it round. Stilled was

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this chattering band, stiffly, stark, and still they stood, clad

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in elfish clothes. Some were wax and some were wood.

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One had crushed his nose. Playthings rare, he said, and smiled,

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for children rich and poor. Some I'll leave the crippled child,

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and some at the orphan's door. He shook his reins

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and called his steed to bear him swiftly on full well.

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It knew its master's need to hurry ere the dawn.

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From house to house they scampered down their sleigh, bells

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ringing clear through chimneys in the sleepy town Good Chris

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and his reindeer. The windows rattled, the moonbeams tattled. A

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tale so strange and queer. They told how at night

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in dire affright the moon had hid in fear that

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he'd called in sport his Elfish court of spooks and witches.

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Gay each Elfin child by glee beguiled, brought scores of others,

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they say. Then a man appeared with flowing beard in

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a sled with reindeer fleet. They gathered about with din

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and shout to bind him hands and feet. Then the

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moon laughed loud at the gathering crowd, while he held

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his sides in mirth to see old Chris in a

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plight like this, toiling o'er the earth. But alas for

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the moon, he had laughed like a loon, for Chris

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is a hero of old. Yes, Chris is a seer.

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With his small reindeer, he captured the goblin's and he

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changed them, they say, in a wonderful way, to toys

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for his Christmas cheer. The big dolls stare with a

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goblin air, the small ones cringe with fear, while the

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moonbeams prattle. I hear a rattle of hoofs on the

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chimney side. Then out on the snow, I gazed below. Hurrah,

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it's Chris Kringle, I cried. Then sly as a mouse,

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he entered the house, and hung up his treasures so gay.

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Then out with a dash he sped like a flash

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into the night and away. And of the Goblin's Christmas

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by Elizabeth Anderson