This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
A Christmas Story for my Children and Grandchildren
By Georg Ebers
The wounded colonel, whom we were nursing back to health in our house,was not allowed to walk long, and in the after noon, after he hadpottered about a little, he was obliged to rest in the comfortable oldeasy-chair, which was known as grandfather's chair.
When twilight fell, our dear guest lighted the last of the three pipes,which the doctor permitted him to smoke every day, and made a sign to thechildren, which the young people obeyed gladly, for they loved to listento his stories.
The convalescent was under orders not to talk for more than half an hourat a time, for his wounds were so severe that our experienced physiciandeclared it to be contrary to the laws of nature and quite phenomenalthat he should be among the living at all.
As for his stories, they had never failed to hold the attention of hisaudience; this was partly due to the fact that he usually had to breakthem off at the point where the interest had reached its climax.Moreover, the deep voice of the narrator was much gentler than one wouldhave expected, after looking at the broad-shouldered, heavy figure, andthere lay in his suppressed, and often whispered tones a secret charm,which the children were not the only ones to feel; besides which his eyesproduced their share of the profound impression, for every emotion thatdisturbed his easily-excited soul found a reflection therein.
That the colonel openly preferred our six-year-old Hermy to his brothersand sisters was due to the circumstance that the child had once burstinto tears at a look from the officer, which the latter employed to callthe children to order, if they were inattentive, or exhibited signs ofunbelief when he had not expected it. After this Hermy was so evidentlyhis darling that there was no further chance for Hermy's younger sister,who had at first promised to be the favourite, and I shall never forgetthe soft, almost motherly, caressing tones that came from that grey-bearded man with the large round head and strong face, when he sought tocomfort the child.
It was remarkable to see how easily this man, who was accustomed toobedience, and famous for his bravery and keen energy, could become achild among children. He had lost a beloved wife, a little son, aboutHermy's age, and a young daughter, and no doubt our numerous familyreminded him of these departed ones. As for his tales, he separated theminto distinct categories. Some of them he began with the words: "Here Iam," and then he held himself strictly to the truth. Others began: "Onceupon a time." While the former were drawn mostly from his own full andeventful life, the latter were fairy stories, pure and simple, sometimesalready well known, sometimes made up, wherein fairies, ghosts, elves,gnomes, goblins and dragons, will-o'-the-wisps, nixies, kelpies anddwarfs disported themselves.
Christmas was approaching, and the next day, Christmas-eve, the tree wasto be lighted. On the twenty-third of December, a little while beforethe hour for story-telling, Hermy came home, and exhibited to hisbrothers the trifling presents, which he had chosen: an eraser for hisfather, a lead-pencil for his mother, a bag of nuts for his grandmother,and similar trifles which, though insignificant in themselves, hadnevertheless exhausted his little store of savings. His elder brothers,to whom he had exhibited with great pride these purchases, expressed noneof the admiration which he had expected, but began to tease him bycalling the things