\u201c\u202f\u2019Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house\r\nNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.\u201d<\/p>\r\nOn the way to bed we could smell our Christmas tree waiting in the dining-room. The room was all dark but we knew that it stood on the floor and touched the ceiling and that it hung heavy with presents, ready for tomorrow. When the lights were lit there would be more of them than any of us children could count. We would all take hands and sing carols round the tree; Bong would come in and look with his mouth open. There was always things on it for him but he would not wait to get his presents. He would run back to his kitchen and we would take them to him there. It seemed as if Bong felt too Chinese to Christmas with us in our Canadian way.\r\n\r\nThe Presbyterian Church did not have service on Christmas morning so we went to the Reformed Episcopal with my sister; Father stayed home with Mother.\r\n\r\nAll the week before Christmas we had been in and out of a sort of hole under the Reformed Church, sewing twigs of pine onto long strips of brown paper. These were to be put round the church windows, which were very high. It was cold under the church and badly lighted. We all sneezed and hunted round for old boards to put beneath our feet on the earth floor under the table where we sat pricking ourselves with holly, and getting stuck up with pine gum. The prickings made the ladies\u2019 words sharp\u2014that and their sniffy colds and remembering all the work to be done at home. Everything unusual was fun for us children. We felt important helping to decorate the Church.\r\n\r\nPresent-giving was only done to members in one\u2019s immediate family. Others you gave love and a card to, and kissed the people you did not usually kiss.\r\n\r\nNew Year\u2019s Day had excitement too. It was the custom for ladies to stay at home, sitting in their drawing-rooms with decanters of wine and fine cakes handy. Gentlemen called to wish them the \u201cCompliments of the Season\u201d. Right after lunch we went up to Mother\u2019s room where you could see farthest down the street, to watch for Mother\u2019s first caller, and it was always the shy Cameron brothers, coming very early so as to avoid other visitors.\r\n\r\nGentlemen paid their respects at Government House, too, on New Year\u2019s Day, and Naval officers made a point of returning the hospitality of those who had entertained them while stationed in Victoria.","rendered":"
Victoria Christmas weather was always nippy\u2014generally there was snow. We sewed presents for weeks before Christmas came\u2014kettle holders, needle books, penwipers and cross-stitch bookmarkers. Just before Christmas we went out into the woods, cut down a fir tree and brought it home so alive still that the warm house fooled it into thinking spring had come, and it breathed delicious live pine smell all over the house. We put fir and holly behind all the pictures and on the mantlepiece and everywhere.<\/p>\n
Plum puddings were dangling from under the pantry shelf by the tails of their boiling cloths. A month ago we had all sat round the breakfast-room table, stoning raisins while someone read a story aloud. Everyone had given the pudding a good-luck stir before it went into the bowls and was tied down and boiled for hours in the copper wash-boiler while spicy smells ran all over the house. On Christmas Day the biggest pudding came out for a final boil before being brought to the table with brandy fire leaping up its sides from the dish, and with a sprig of holly scorching and crackling on its top.<\/p>\n
Christmas Eve Father took us into town to see the shops lit up. Every lamp post had a fir tree tied to it\u2014not corpsy old trees but fresh cut firs. Victoria streets were dark; this made the shops look all the brighter. Windows were decorated with mock snow made of cotton wool and diamond dust. Drygoods shops did not have much that was Christmassy to display except red flannel and rabbit fur baby coats and muffs and tippets. Chemists had immense globes of red, green and blue medicine hanging from brass chains in their shop windows. I wished some of us could be sick enough for Dr. Helmcken to prescribe one of the splendid globes for us. The chemists also showed coloured soap and fancy perfume in bottles. Castor oil in hideous blue bottles peered from behind nice Christmas things and threw out hints about over-eating and stomach-ache. A horrid woman once told my mother that she let her children eat everything they wanted on Christmas Day and finished them up with a big dose of castor oil. Mr. Hibben, the stationer, was nicer than that woman and the chemist. He hid all the school books behind story books left open at the best pictures. He had \u201cMerry Christmas\u201d in cotton wool on red cardboard in his window.<\/p>\n
It was the food shops that Merry Christmassed the hardest. In Mr. Saunders\u2019, the grocer\u2019s, window was a real Santa Claus grinding coffee. The wheel was bigger than he was. He had a long beard and moved his hands and his head. As the wheel went round the coffee beans went in, got ground, and came out, smell and all. In the window all round Santa were bonbons, cluster raisins, nuts and candied fruit, besides long walking-sticks made of peppermint candy. Next to this splendid window came Goodacre\u2019s horrible butcher shop\u2014everything in it dead and naked. Dead geese and turkeys waggled, head down; dead beeves, calves and pigs straddled between immense meat hooks on the walls; naked sheep had bunches of coloured paper where their heads ought to have been and flowers and squiggles carved in the fat of their backs. Creatures that still had their heads on stared out of eyes like poached eggs when the white has run over the yolk. Baby pigs looked worst of all\u2014pink and naked as bathing babies, their cheeks drawn back to make them smile at the red apples which had been forced into their toothless, sucking mouths. The shop floor was strewn deep in sawdust to catch blood drips. You heard no footsteps in the shop, only the sharpening of knives, sawing of bones, and bump, bump of the scale. Everybody was examining meat and saying, \u201cCompliments of the Season\u201d to everyone else, Father saying, \u201cFine display, Goodacre, very fine indeed!\u201d We children rushed out and went back to Santa while Father chose his meat.<\/p>\n
The shop of old George, the poulterer, was nearly as bad as Goodacre\u2019s, only the dead things did not look so dead, nor stare so hard, having shut the grey lids over their eyes to die. They were limp in necks and stiff in legs. As most of them had feathers on they looked like birds still, whereas the butcher\u2019s creatures had been rushed at once from life to meat.<\/p>\n
The food shops ended the town, and after that came Johnson Street and Chinatown, which was full of black night. Here we turned back towards James\u2019 Bay, ready for bed.<\/p>\n
There was a high mantlepiece in the breakfast room. And while we were hanging our stockings from it my sister read:<\/p>\n
\u201c\u202f\u2019Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
\nNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.\u201d<\/p>\n
On the way to bed we could smell our Christmas tree waiting in the dining-room. The room was all dark but we knew that it stood on the floor and touched the ceiling and that it hung heavy with presents, ready for tomorrow. When the lights were lit there would be more of them than any of us children could count. We would all take hands and sing carols round the tree; Bong would come in and look with his mouth open. There was always things on it for him but he would not wait to get his presents. He would run back to his kitchen and we would take them to him there. It seemed as if Bong felt too Chinese to Christmas with us in our Canadian way.<\/p>\n
The Presbyterian Church did not have service on Christmas morning so we went to the Reformed Episcopal with my sister; Father stayed home with Mother.<\/p>\n
All the week before Christmas we had been in and out of a sort of hole under the Reformed Church, sewing twigs of pine onto long strips of brown paper. These were to be put round the church windows, which were very high. It was cold under the church and badly lighted. We all sneezed and hunted round for old boards to put beneath our feet on the earth floor under the table where we sat pricking ourselves with holly, and getting stuck up with pine gum. The prickings made the ladies\u2019 words sharp\u2014that and their sniffy colds and remembering all the work to be done at home. Everything unusual was fun for us children. We felt important helping to decorate the Church.<\/p>\n
Present-giving was only done to members in one\u2019s immediate family. Others you gave love and a card to, and kissed the people you did not usually kiss.<\/p>\n
New Year\u2019s Day had excitement too. It was the custom for ladies to stay at home, sitting in their drawing-rooms with decanters of wine and fine cakes handy. Gentlemen called to wish them the \u201cCompliments of the Season\u201d. Right after lunch we went up to Mother\u2019s room where you could see farthest down the street, to watch for Mother\u2019s first caller, and it was always the shy Cameron brothers, coming very early so as to avoid other visitors.<\/p>\n
Gentlemen paid their respects at Government House, too, on New Year\u2019s Day, and Naval officers made a point of returning the hospitality of those who had entertained them while stationed in Victoria.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":15,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-115","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":85,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/115","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/115\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":148,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/115\/revisions\/148"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/85"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/115\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=115"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=115"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=115"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thebookofsmall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=115"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}