Chapter: Christmas was approaching. Grandmother brought me materials, and I busied
myself making some new garments and little playthings for my children. Were
it not that hiring day is near at hand, and many families are fearfully
looking forward to the probability of separation in a few days, Christmas
might be a happy season for the poor slaves. Even slave mothers try to
gladden the hearts of their little ones on that occasion. Benny and Ellen
had their Christmas stockings filled. Their imprisoned mother could not
have the privilege of witnessing their surprise and joy. But I had the
pleasure of peeping at them as they went into the street with their new
suits on. I heard Benny ask a little playmate whether Santa Claus brought
him any thing. "Yes," replied the boy; "but Santa Claus ain't a real man.
It's the children's mothers that put things into the stockings." "No, that
can't be," replied Benny, "for Santa Claus brought Ellen and me these new
clothes, and my mother has been gone this long time."

How I longed to tell him that his mother made those garments, and that many
a tear fell on them while she worked!

Every child rises early on Christmas morning to see the Johnkannaus.
Without them, Christmas would be shorn of its greatest attraction. They
consist of companies of slaves from the plantations, generally of the lower
class. Two athletic men, in calico wrappers, have a net thrown over them,
covered with all manner of bright-colored stripes. Cows' tails are fastened
to their backs, and their heads are decorated with horns. A box, covered
with sheepskin, is called the gumbo box. A dozen beat on this, while other
strike triangles and jawbones, to which bands of dancers keep time. For a
month previous they are composing songs, which are sung on this occasion.
These companies, of a hundred each, turn out early in the morning, and are
allowed to go round till twelve o'clock, begging for contributions. Not a
door is left unvisited where there is the least chance of obtaining a penny
or a glass of rum. They do not drink while they are out, but carry the rum
home in jugs, to have a carousal. These Christmas donations frequently
amount to twenty or thirty dollars. It is seldom that any white man or
child refuses to give them a trifle. If he does, they regale his ears with
the following song:--

   Poor massa, so dey say;
   Down in de heel, so dey say;
   Got no money, so dey say;
   Not one shillin, so dey say;
   God A'mighty bress you, so dey say.

Christmas is a day of feasting, both with white and colored people. Slaves,
who are lucky enough to have a few shillings, are sure to spend them for
good eating; and many a turkey and pig is captured, without saying, "By
your leave, sir." Those who cannot obtain these, cook a 'possum, or a
raccoon, from which savory dishes can be made. My grandmother raised
poultry and pigs for sale and it was her established custom to have both a
turkey and a pig roasted for Christmas dinner.

On this occasion, I was warned to keep extremely quiet, because two guests
had been invited. One was the town constable, and the other was a free
colored man, who tried to pass himself off for white, and who was always
ready to do any mean work for the sake of currying favor with white people.
My grandmother had a motive for inviting them. She managed to take them all
over the house. All the rooms on the lower floor were thrown open for them
to pass in and out; and after dinner, they were invited up stairs to look
at a fine mocking bird my uncle had just brought home. There, too, the
rooms were all thrown open that they might look in. When I heard them
talking on the piazza, my heart almost stood still. I knew this colored man
had spent many nights hunting for me. Every body knew he had the blood of a
slave father in his veins; but for the sake of passing himself off for
white, he was ready to kiss the slaveholders' feet. How I despised him! As
for the constable, he wore no false colors. The duties of his office were
despicable, but he was superior to his companion, inasmuch as he did not
pretend to be what he was not. Any white man, who could raise money enough
to buy a slave, would have considered himself degraded by being a
constable; but the office enabled its possessor to exercise authority. If
he found any slave out after nine o'clock, he could whip him as much as he
liked; and that was a privilege to be coveted. When the guests were ready
to depart, my grandmother gave each of them some of her nice pudding, as a
present for their wives. Through my peep-hole I saw them go out of the
gate, and I was glad when it closed after them. So passed the first
Christmas in my den.

 Even in that tiny space, Linda manages to sew new clothes for her children. She can't even watch them open their presents--although at least she gets to see them walking by in their fancy new outfits. Worst Christmas ever.

