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The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus (L Frank Baum) Chapter 12

This story is about the jolly, old man that we know of as Santa Claus from his earliest days as an infant, right up until how he became immortal. This book was published in 1902 and is in the public domain. This is Chapter 12 of 22.

Listen or download the audio (read by me) here.

This tale tells of the youth, manhood, and immortality of Santa Claus. Chapter 12 deals with his manhood.

Chapter 12 – How Bessie Blithesome Came to the Laughing Valley

One day, as Claus sat before his door to enjoy the sunshine while he busily carved the head and horns of a toy deer, he looked up and discovered a glittering cavalcade of horsemen approaching through the Valley.

When they drew nearer he saw that the band consisted of a score of men-at-arms, clad in bright armor and bearing in their hands spears and battle-axes. In front of these rode little Bessie Blithesome, the pretty daughter of that proud Lord of Lerd who had once driven Claus from his palace. Her palfrey was pure white, its bridle was covered with glittering gems, and its saddle draped with cloth of gold, richly broidered. The soldiers were sent to protect her from harm while she journeyed.

Claus was surprised, but he continued to whittle and to sing until the cavalcade drew up before him. Then the little girl leaned over the neck of her palfrey and said:

“Please, Mr. Claus, I want a toy!”

Her voice was so pleading that Claus jumped up at once and stood beside her. But he was puzzled how to answer her request.

“You are a rich lord’s daughter,” said he, “and have all that you desire.”

“Except toys,” added Bessie. “There are no toys in all the world but yours.”

“And I make them for the poor children, who have nothing else to amuse them,” continued Claus.

“Do poor children love to play with toys more than rich ones?” asked Bessie.

“I suppose not,” said Claus, thoughtfully.

“Am I to blame because my father is a lord? Must I be denied the pretty toys I long for because other children are poorer than I?” she inquired earnestly.

“I’m afraid you must, dear,” he answered; “for the poor have nothing else with which to amuse themselves. You have your pony to ride, your servants to wait on you, and every comfort that money can procure.”

“But I want toys!” cried Bessie, wiping away the tears that forced themselves into her eyes. “If I can not have them, I shall be very unhappy.”

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