|
|
3#

楼主 |
发表于 2006-2-25 12:16:09
|
只看该作者
1931
Here is my latest portrait - Father Christmas packing, 1931. If you find that not many of the things you asked for have come, and not perhaps quite so many as sometimes, remember that this Christmas all over the world there are a terrible number of poor and starving people. I (and also my Green Brother) have had to do some collecting of food and clothes, and toys too, for the children whose fathers and mothers cannot give them anything, sometimes not even dinner.
It has gone on being warm up here - not what you 'would call warm, but warm for the North Pole, with very little snow. The North Polar Bear has been lazy and sleepy as a result, and very slow over packing, or any job except eating -he has enjoyed sampling and tasting the food parcels this year (to see if they were fresh and good, he said). But that is not the worst. I should hardly feel it was Christmas if he didn't do something ridiculous. You will never guess what he did this time! I sent him down into one of my cellars - the cracker-hole, we call it - where I keep thousands of boxes of crackers (you would like to see them, rows upon rows, all with their lids off to show the kinds of colours) - well, I wanted twenty boxes and was busy sorting soldiers and farm things so I sent him; and he was so lazy he took Snow-boys (who aren't allowed down there) to help him. They started pulling crackers out of boxes, and he tried to box them (the boys' ears. I mean), and they dodged and he fell over, and let his candle fall right POOF! into my firework-crackers and boxes of sparklers. I could hear the noise and smell the smell in the hall; and when I rushed down I saw nothing but smoke and fizzing stars, and old Polar Bear was rolling over on the floor with sparks sizzling in his coat; he has quite a bare patch burnt on his back. The Snow-boys roared with laughter and then ran away. They said it was a splendid sight, but they won't come to my party on St Stephen's Day; they have had more than their share already.
-This is all drawn by the North Polar Bear. Don't you think he is getting better? But the green ink is mine - and he didn't ask for it.
Two of the Polar Bear's nephews have been staying here for some time - Paksu and Valkotukka ('fat' and 'white-hair' they say it means). They are fattummied Polar Cubs and are very funny, boxing one another and rolling about. But another time I shall have them on Boxing Day and not just at packing-time. I fell over them fourteen times a day last week. And Valkotukka swallowed a ball of red string, thinking it was cake, and he got it all wound up inside and had a tangled cough - he couldn't sleep at night, but I thought it rather served him right for putting holly in my bed. It was the same cub that poured all the black ink yesterday into the fire - to make night: it did, and a very smelly smoky one. We lost Paksu all last Wednesday and found him on Thursday morning asleep in a cupboard in the kitchen; he had eaten two whole puddings raw. They seem to be growing up just like their uncle.
>Goodbye now. I shall soon be off on my travels once more. You need not believe any pictures you see of me in aeroplanes or motors. I cannot drive one, and I don't want to; and they are too slow anyway (not to mention smell), they cannot compare with my own reindeer, which I train myself. 'They are all very well this year, and I expect my posts will be in very good time. I have got some new young ones this Christmas from Lapland.
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
1932
There have been lots of adventures you will want to hear about. It all began with the funny noises underground which started in the summer and got worse and worse. I was afraid an earthquake might happen. The North Polar Bear says he suspected what was wrong from the beginning. I only wish he had said something to me; and anyway it can't be quite true, as he was fast asleep when it began, and did not wake up till about Michael's birthday.* However, he went off for a walk one day, at the end of November, I think, and never came back! About a fortnight ago I began to be really worried, for after all the dear old thing is really a lot of help, in spite of accidents, and very amusing. One Friday evening (December 9th), there was a bumping at the front door and a snuffling. I thought he had come back, and lost his key (as often before); but when I opened the door there was another very old bear there, a very fat and funny-shaped one. Actually it was the eldest of the few remaining Cave-bears. (I had not seen him for centuries.)
'Do you want your North Polar Bear?' he said. 'lf you do, you had better come and get him!'
It turned out he was lost in the caves (belonging to Cave-Bear, or so he says) not far from the ruins of my old house. He says he found a hole in the side of a hill and went inside because it was snowing. He slipped down a long slope, and lots of rock fell after him, and he found he could not climb up or get out again. But almost at once he smelt GOBLIN! and became interested and started to explore. Not very wise, for of course Goblins can't hurt him, but their caves are very dangerous. Naturally he soon got quite lost, and the Goblins shut off all their lights, and made queer noises and false echoes.
![]()
Goblins are to us very much what rats are to you, only worse, because they are very clever, and only better because there are, in these parts, very few. We thought there were none left. Long ago we had great trouble with them, that was about 1453}, I believe, but we got the help of the Gnomes, who are their greatest enemies, and cleared them out. Anyway, there was poor old Polar Bear lost in the dark all among them, and alone until he 'met Cave-Bear, who lives there. Cave-Bear can see pretty well in the dark, and he offered to take Polar Bear to his private back door. So they set off together, but the Goblins were very excited and angry (Polar Bear had boxed one or two flat that came and poked him in the dark, and had said some very nasty things to them all), and they enticed him away by imitating Cave-Bear's voice, which of course they know very well. So Polar Bear got into a frightful dark part, all full of different passages, and he lost Cave-Bear, and Cave-Bear lost him.
'Light is what we need,' said Cave-Bear to me. So I got some of my special sparkling torches - which I sometimes use in my deepest cellars - and we set off that night. The caves are wonderful. I knew they were there, but not how many or how big they were. Of course the Goblins went off into the deepest holes and corners, and we soon found Polar Bear. He was getting quite long and thin with hunger, as he had been in the caves about a fortnight. He said, 'l should soon have been able to squeeze through a Goblin crack.'
Polar Bear himself was astonished when I brought light; for the most remarkable thing is that the walls of these caves are all covered with pictures, cut into the rock or painted on in red and brown and black. Some of them are very good (mostly of animals) and some are queer, and some bad, and there are many strange marks, signs and scribbles, some of which have a nasty look, and I am sure have something to do with black magic. Cave-Bear says these caves belong to him, and have belonged to him or his family since the days of his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great (multiplied by ten) grandfather; and the bears first had the idea of decorating the walls, and used to scratch pictures on them in soft parts - it was useful for sharpening the claws. Then MEN came along - imagine it! Cave-Bear says there were lots about at one time, long ago, when the North Pole was somewhere else. (That was long before my time, and I have never heard old Grandfather Yule mention it, even, so I don't know if he's talking nonsense or not.) Many of the pictures were done by these Cave-men - the best ones, especially the big ones (almost life-size) of animals, some of which have since disappeared: there are dragons and quite a lot of mammoths. Men also put some of the black marks and pictures there, but the Goblins have scribbled all over the place. They can't draw well, and anyway they like nasty queer shapes best.
![]()
I have copied a whole page from the wall of the chief central cave. It is not, perhaps, quite as well drawn as the originals (which are very much larger) except the Goblin parts, which are easy. At the bottom of the page you will see a whole row of Goblin pictures - they must be very old, because the Goblin fighters are sitting on drasils: a very queer sort of dwarf 'dachshund' horse creature they used to use, but they have died out long ago. I believe the Red Gnomes finished them off, somewhere about Edward the Fourth's time. You will see some more on the pillar in my picture of the caves.
Doesn't the hairy rhinoceros look wicked? There is also a nasty look in the mammoth's eyes. You will also see an ox, a stag, a boar, a cave-bear (portrait of our Cave-Bear's seventy-first ancestor, he says) and some other kind of polarish but not quite polar bear. North Polar Bear would like to believe it is a portrait of one of his ancestors. Just under the bears you can see what is the best a Goblin can do at drawing reindeer!!!
But when I rescued Polar Bear we hadn't finished the adventures. At the beginning of last week we went into the cellars to get up the stuff for England. I said to Polar Bear, Somebody has been disarranging things here!'
'Paksu and Valkotukka, I expect,' he said. But it wasn't. Then last Saturday we went down and found nearly everything had disappeared out of the main cellar! Imagine my state of mind! Nothing hardly to send to anybody, and too little time to get or make enough new stuff.
Polar Bear said, 'I smell Goblin strong'. Eventually we found a large hole (but not big enough for us) leading to a tunnel, behind some packing-cases in the West Cellar. As you will expect, we rushed off to find Cave-Bear and we went back to the caves. We soon understood the queer noises. It was plain the Goblins long ago had burrowed a tunnel from the caves to my old home (which was not so far from the end of their hills) and had stolen a good many things. We found some things more than a hundred years old, even a few parcels still addressed to your great-grand-people! But they had been very clever, and not too greedy, and I had not found out. Ever since I moved they must have been busy burrowing all the way to my cliff, boring, banging and blasting (as quietly as they could). At last they had reached my new cellars, and the sight of all the toys together was too much for them: they took all they could. I daresay they were also still angry with the Polar Bear. Also they thought we couldn't get at them.
But I sent my patent green luminous smoke down the tunnel, and Polar Bear blew and blew it with our enormous kitchen bellows. They simply shrieked and rushed out the other (cave) end. But there were Red Gnomes there. I had specially sent for them - a few of the real old families are still in Norway. They captured hundreds of Goblins, and chased many more out into the snow (which they hate). We made them show us where they had hidden things, or bring them all back again, and by Monday we had got practically everything back. The Gnomes are still dealing with 'the Goblins, and promise there won't be one left by New Year - but I am not so sure - they will crop up again in a century or so, I expect.
![]()
[此贴子已经被作者于2006-3-1 15:26:41编辑过]
|
|