Reminiscences of Dr. Langstaff
Christmas time
Panels
Lacrosse in the old daysEveryday lifeStreet lightingChristmas timeHorse and buggy daysAnecdotesAdvent of horseless carriage"The Liberal" December 22, 1955.
“At Christmas it seems only natural to turn back the pages of time and consider what Christmas was like in the earlier days, 75 or 80 years ago. While Christmas has its more serious side of joy and satisfaction for adults, it is for the young people the one great holiday of the year, with Santa Claus, the giving and getting of gifts, also all round a fine spirit of joyfulness. Young People, 75 years ago, were just the same as they are today, full of life, bursting with energy and yearning for excitement. A woman who taught school for 40 years was asked if children were the same now as 40 years ago? She said “They are exactly the same”.
Before Christmas my parents would drive to Toronto to shop, sometimes they would take me along, round trip 32 miles. My one request was to wake me up to see the Golden Lion. This was a full sized lion, carved from wood and painted a golden color. It was at the front of the upper veranda of the hotel on the corner of Sheppard Ave., opposite Dempsey’s store.
Our home had four large fireplaces and there was much excitement getting our stockings hung along the mantel where we were sure that Santa could not miss them. We were then hustled off to bed where we lay awake as long as we could, waiting to hear the deer on the roof. One of my sisters said that she was sure that she could hear them. My hearing was evidently not as good, as I failed to hear anything.
We were allowed out of bed at seven in the morning, and we dressed by the big box stove in the hall, each one having his wool sheepskin rug. We were not allowed to touch our stockings until after breakfast. We found them filled with oranges, "nuts, raisins, candy with generally a book stuck in the top. One of my cousins thought he might have luck if he hung up his stocking a second night. In the morning he was delighted to see his stockings bulging. When he came to examine them they were filled with turkey legs, feathers, orange skins, nut shells, etc.
At the Sunday school we had a Christmas tree, a supper and an entertainment, the children taking part. I remember reciting a few lines, ending up with “The world is round just like my little ball”, whereupon I held up a small red ball, much to the delight of a fond mother.
I well remember my mother was doing a lot of baking for the supper. One time she made a large three-storey fruit cake, same as they make for weddings. She iced it and made fancy scroll work: with pink icing forced through a syringe. To me it looked nice and tasted even better. During the holiday week there was a lot of visiting done. We went to our grandfather’s and uncles, where we created a lot of hub-bub. One day at grandfather’s they chased us into the attic to get us out of the way.
When we got up there we found two long dinner horns, that could be heard a mile away, a couple of dulcimers and some tin cans. Having the instruments we formed a band: “All ready, let her go”. We made such a blast that the people came up and chased us down, saying that they thought that the roof would come in. This reminds me that among my requests to Santa, I wanted a drum, a horn and a whistle. My mother seemed quite cross with Santa for listening to me — said it made her head ache. I could not understand my mother not liking such a nice noise.
When at my uncle’s we played games, such as blind man’s buff and Pussy wants a corner. We then took our sleds and went to the fields, where we had a fine time riding swiftly down the hills. Sometimes we would go down the hill fancy, lying on our backs with the head pointing down the hill. Other times we would sit up, or go down just plain belly whack. We would go swiftly down the hill, across the flats and over the creek.
My father had a cutter made longer than usual, with plenty of room for an extra seat for the three children.
On our way home, boy-like, I wanted to drive. A spirited horse, on a cold night and with its head turned toward home, with a boy driving, having the lines in one hand and a whip in the other, creates quite a hazard, so my terrified mother thought.
My mother — “If you don’t take the whip from that boy you will have us all in the ditch.”
My father — “The mare knows what she is doing, she is going home.” The mare was going home all right as fast as she could make her feet fly. My mother appeared greatly relieved when we landed home, right side up. There was nothing much more pleasant this time of year than sleighing parties. We had a first class livery where vans and teams could be rented, or as in the case of a Sunday school, a large number of sleighs were required, the farmers were most generous in supplying teams and sleighs. A sleigh, with a box on it, could be quickly made into a van, by the use of a few boards, with some hay spread over the floor, and a few fur robes added.
A drive in the country on a bright crystal moonlight night, the sleigh bells ringing, a jolly crowd of young people, what could be more enjoyable and invigorating.
On New Year’s day, the more ambitious young people would go calling on their friends with their horses hitched tandem.
Another thing that was much enjoyed by young people was the custom of climbing onto passing sleighs, riding along until the sleigh was coming the opposite way and riding back. The drivers as a rule were indulgent and kept an eye out to see that these children were not injured. Once in a while a driver was met that was not so considerate. One day, at recess, a man slowed up and told the pupils to pile on. When they got on he cracked the whip and the horses sprang into a gallop. The man stood on his sleigh and laughed as each pupil made the hazardous jump, rolling over and over. The good Lord seems to take care of children. Once when I went to jump onto a sleigh someone pushed me and I fell back, my legs going into the back runner. I was dragged quite a distance before I could kick myself loose, thankfully no bones were broken.
One day I called to another boy, who was riding on a farmer’s sleigh — “Get off that sleigh”. The boy, who was a preachers son, called back — “Go to Heaven’.
“At Christmas it seems only natural to turn back the pages of time and consider what Christmas was like in the earlier days, 75 or 80 years ago. While Christmas has its more serious side of joy and satisfaction for adults, it is for the young people the one great holiday of the year, with Santa Claus, the giving and getting of gifts, also all round a fine spirit of joyfulness. Young People, 75 years ago, were just the same as they are today, full of life, bursting with energy and yearning for excitement. A woman who taught school for 40 years was asked if children were the same now as 40 years ago? She said “They are exactly the same”.
Before Christmas my parents would drive to Toronto to shop, sometimes they would take me along, round trip 32 miles. My one request was to wake me up to see the Golden Lion. This was a full sized lion, carved from wood and painted a golden color. It was at the front of the upper veranda of the hotel on the corner of Sheppard Ave., opposite Dempsey’s store.
Our home had four large fireplaces and there was much excitement getting our stockings hung along the mantel where we were sure that Santa could not miss them. We were then hustled off to bed where we lay awake as long as we could, waiting to hear the deer on the roof. One of my sisters said that she was sure that she could hear them. My hearing was evidently not as good, as I failed to hear anything.
We were allowed out of bed at seven in the morning, and we dressed by the big box stove in the hall, each one having his wool sheepskin rug. We were not allowed to touch our stockings until after breakfast. We found them filled with oranges, "nuts, raisins, candy with generally a book stuck in the top. One of my cousins thought he might have luck if he hung up his stocking a second night. In the morning he was delighted to see his stockings bulging. When he came to examine them they were filled with turkey legs, feathers, orange skins, nut shells, etc.
At the Sunday school we had a Christmas tree, a supper and an entertainment, the children taking part. I remember reciting a few lines, ending up with “The world is round just like my little ball”, whereupon I held up a small red ball, much to the delight of a fond mother.
I well remember my mother was doing a lot of baking for the supper. One time she made a large three-storey fruit cake, same as they make for weddings. She iced it and made fancy scroll work: with pink icing forced through a syringe. To me it looked nice and tasted even better. During the holiday week there was a lot of visiting done. We went to our grandfather’s and uncles, where we created a lot of hub-bub. One day at grandfather’s they chased us into the attic to get us out of the way.
When we got up there we found two long dinner horns, that could be heard a mile away, a couple of dulcimers and some tin cans. Having the instruments we formed a band: “All ready, let her go”. We made such a blast that the people came up and chased us down, saying that they thought that the roof would come in. This reminds me that among my requests to Santa, I wanted a drum, a horn and a whistle. My mother seemed quite cross with Santa for listening to me — said it made her head ache. I could not understand my mother not liking such a nice noise.
When at my uncle’s we played games, such as blind man’s buff and Pussy wants a corner. We then took our sleds and went to the fields, where we had a fine time riding swiftly down the hills. Sometimes we would go down the hill fancy, lying on our backs with the head pointing down the hill. Other times we would sit up, or go down just plain belly whack. We would go swiftly down the hill, across the flats and over the creek.
My father had a cutter made longer than usual, with plenty of room for an extra seat for the three children.
On our way home, boy-like, I wanted to drive. A spirited horse, on a cold night and with its head turned toward home, with a boy driving, having the lines in one hand and a whip in the other, creates quite a hazard, so my terrified mother thought.
My mother — “If you don’t take the whip from that boy you will have us all in the ditch.”
My father — “The mare knows what she is doing, she is going home.” The mare was going home all right as fast as she could make her feet fly. My mother appeared greatly relieved when we landed home, right side up. There was nothing much more pleasant this time of year than sleighing parties. We had a first class livery where vans and teams could be rented, or as in the case of a Sunday school, a large number of sleighs were required, the farmers were most generous in supplying teams and sleighs. A sleigh, with a box on it, could be quickly made into a van, by the use of a few boards, with some hay spread over the floor, and a few fur robes added.
A drive in the country on a bright crystal moonlight night, the sleigh bells ringing, a jolly crowd of young people, what could be more enjoyable and invigorating.
On New Year’s day, the more ambitious young people would go calling on their friends with their horses hitched tandem.
Another thing that was much enjoyed by young people was the custom of climbing onto passing sleighs, riding along until the sleigh was coming the opposite way and riding back. The drivers as a rule were indulgent and kept an eye out to see that these children were not injured. Once in a while a driver was met that was not so considerate. One day, at recess, a man slowed up and told the pupils to pile on. When they got on he cracked the whip and the horses sprang into a gallop. The man stood on his sleigh and laughed as each pupil made the hazardous jump, rolling over and over. The good Lord seems to take care of children. Once when I went to jump onto a sleigh someone pushed me and I fell back, my legs going into the back runner. I was dragged quite a distance before I could kick myself loose, thankfully no bones were broken.
One day I called to another boy, who was riding on a farmer’s sleigh — “Get off that sleigh”. The boy, who was a preachers son, called back — “Go to Heaven’.
Ready for a sleigh ride Details
