Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 316: Canada- Saint Nicholas And The Children (MacMillan)

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EP 316: Canada- Saint Nicholas And The Children (MacMillan) · Sandman Stories Presents

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Welcome back, listeners to Sandman Stories Presents, a
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folklore podcast where I read you to sleep or until the next
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story. I'm your host, Dustin, and if
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you'd like more of the spicy stuff, go and check out Sam Man
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Stories After Dark. It's on Patreon and you can join
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for as little as no money a month.
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So see you over there. And a big shout out to Robin for
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joining at a 10 or a month. Wow.
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The fact that people will pay to listen to me still surprises me.
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And today we are back in the book of Canadian folklore
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written down by Cyrus McMillan. This episode will come out on
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Christmas and it just so happens to star old Saint Nick.
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OK, let's begin. Saint Nicholas and the children,
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2 little children lived with their old grandmother in a
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remote place in the Canadian forest.
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They were twins, a boy and a girl, Pierre and Estelle by
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name, and besides their clothes, it was not easy to tell them
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apart. Their father and mother had died
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in the springtime, and in the summer they had left their old
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home because of all the sad memories and had gone to live
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with their grandmother in a new home elsewhere in this New
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Forest home. They were very poor, but they
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were not unhappy. Times were hard and there was
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very little food to be had no matter how hard their old
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grandmother worked. But they caught fish in the
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streams and gathered berries and fruit and birds eggs on the
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wooded hills, and somehow throughout the summer they kept
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themselves from hunger. But when late autumn came and
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the streams were frozen over and the berries were all gone, and
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there were no eggs for the birds that all flown S they were often
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very hungry because they had so little to eat.
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Their grandmother worked so hard to provide for herself and the
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children, so that at last she fell very sick.
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For several days she could not leave her bed.
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She said I want meat broth to make me well, and I must have
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good meat to make it. If I do not get meat, I can have
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no broth, and if I do not get broth I can't get well.
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And if I do not get well, I will die.
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And if I die, you two children will surely starve and die too.
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So meat and meat alone can save us all from starvation and
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death. So the two children, to keep
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themselves and their grandmother alive, set out one morning in
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search of meat to make the broth.
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They live far from the other people, and they did not know
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where to go, but they followed the forest path.
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The snow lay deep in the ground and sparkled brightly in the
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sunlight. The children had never before
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been away from home alone, and every sight was of great
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interest to them. Here and there a rabbit hopped
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over the snow, or a snowbird hovered and twittered overhead,
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all looking for food like the children.
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And there were holly berries growing in many places, and
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there was mistletoe hanging from the trees.
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And Pierre, when he saw the holly berries in the mistletoe,
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said St. Nicholas will be here soon, for
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the trees are dressed and ready for his coming.
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And Estelle said, yes, Saint Nicholas will be here soon, and
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they were both very glad, thinking of his coming as they
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went along. In the afternoon they came upon
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an old man sitting at the door of a small House of spruce bows
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under the tree, close to the forest path.
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He was busy making whistles, whittling Willow wands with a
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knife, and tapping gently on the bark until the bark fell off
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from the wood and easily slipped off.
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The children stood and watched him at his strange work, for he
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had merry twinkly eyes and a kindly weather beaten face and
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thick white hair, and they were not afraid.
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Hello, said the old man. Hello, said Pierre.
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Why are you making Willow whistles?
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I'm making them for Saint Nicholas, said the old man.
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He is coming soon for his yearly visit.
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Indeed, he is already in the land when he makes his rounds.
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He always gives whistles, among other things, to good children,
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and I must have a great store of them ready for him when he
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comes, for there are many children to supply.
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Then he went on busily whittling with his knife.
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The children watched him for a long time in silence, and they
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thought what a fine thing it must be to work like the old man
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for Saint Nicholas in his little House of bows under the forest
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trees. Then the man said, You are very
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small children, what are you seeking so far away from people?
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And Estelle answered, Our old grandmother is very sick, and we
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are looking for meat to make broth to make her well.
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The old man was sorry that he had no meat, for he lived on
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other food. He told them that some distance
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farther along there was a butcher who always kept meat.
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But the butcher, he said, was a very wicked fellow, and
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sometimes little children who entered his shop never came out
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again. The children were very
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frightened when they heard what the old man said, and they
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wondered if they had better go back home.
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But the old man thought for a long time in silence as he
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whittled his Willow wands. And then he said, I will give
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you each a whistle, and when you blow it, Saint Nicholas will
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always hear it. You must never blow it, except
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for when you're in great trouble or distress.
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And when Saint Nicholas hears it, he will know that you are
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coming to grieve, for that harm is already upon you, and he will
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come himself or send someone to your assistance.
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But you must only blow one blast.
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The whistle should only be given by Saint Nicholas himself when
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he comes at holly time into the land.
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But you are good children, and your old grandmother is sick,
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and you are trying to make her well, and I know that Saint
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Nicholas will not say that I have done wrong.
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So he gave the children each a whistle, and then the fear left
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them, for they knew now no harm could come to them if they had
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the aid of Saint Nicholas. It was growing late in the
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afternoon, and the children set out on their way to find the
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wicked butcher. But they had many misgivings,
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and as they went on they grew faint of heart, for they
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wondered if the old man had told them the truth about the
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whistles, or if he was in reality a secret agent of the
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wicked butcher. Trying to lure them to their
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death. They resolved to search for meat
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elsewhere, and to keep away from the butcher's shop.
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They searched for a long time, but without success.
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There was no meat to be had in all of the land at any of the
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places that they stopped to ask. Soon they saw the butcher's
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shop. They were very frightened, but
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the sun had already gone down behind the trees and night was
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coming on and they still had no meat.
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And they knew that if their old grandmother was to get well, she
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must have meat to make the broth.
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The shop also looked welcoming and attractive on a cold winter
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evening. Warm light was shining from a
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fire through the door, and in the window were sausages, fat
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birds and big yellow pumpkins and cakes with red berries on
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top. The children were hungry and
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wished for something to eat by the warm shop fire.
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They decided to enter the shop, notwithstanding their fear, to
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buy some food and to get meat for their grandmother's broth as
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quickly as they could. But before they entered the shop
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they thought it would be good, in order to be safe, to blow a
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blast on their whistle, as the old man had told them, so that
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Saint Nicholas would know that they were in harm's way.
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They stood for a long time the shadow of the great trees next
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to the door, and prepared to blow together.
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Pierre gave the signal and blew a long soft blast, but Estelle
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could not get her whistle from her pocket, and Pierre had
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finished his blast all out of breath before she was ready to
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blow. Don't blow now, he said.
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You are just like the rabbit, always too late.
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But blow she did as the old man had told her, and before Pierre
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could stop her she blew a long soft blast on her whistle.
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Pierre was very cross, for he thought that now no good would
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come of it, as two blasts had sounded, but they entered the
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butcher's shop anyway. The wicked butcher was in his
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shop, but no one else was in the place.
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It was all very quiet. The man was very glad to see the
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children, and he seated them by the warm fire, and he gave them
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food, and although he shut the door tight behind them, their
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fear soon vanished. After they had eaten well and
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were warm again, they asked for meat to make the broth for their
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old grandmother, and the butcher said he would give them plenty
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of good meat, although it was very scarce in all the land.
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There was a barrel standing in one corner.
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In another corner was a large hogs head reaching almost to the
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ceiling, and the butcher said the both of these were full of
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meat. Now the butcher was really the
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friend and partner of a wicked giant who lived in the forest.
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The giants greatest delight was to eat little children.
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He liked nothing better than a meal of little children 2 at a
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time, pickled 1st and brine. He always ate them when he could
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get them, but he was not always successful, for children were
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scarce in the land. He was a great hunter, and he
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was able to kill lots of animals in the forest and to secure
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heaps of meat. He was so strong.
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Once a week he brought a great load of meat to the butcher and
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traded it for any little children the butcher managed to
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entice into his shop. So the butcher got a lot of meat
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at a low cost, and the old man of the House of the Bows was
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right when he said that many little children who entered the
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shop never came out again. The butcher was very glad when
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he saw the two Pretty Little children.
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He was expecting the giant that night for his weekly visit and
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he thought gleefully of the great load of meat he would get
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from the giant in exchange for the children, for he would ask a
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big price. And he knew that the giant would
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give him all the meat he had for such a good meal.
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And he also thought of all the money he would get for the
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giants load of meat. So he resolved to kill the
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children and pickle them and brine to await the giants
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coming. When the children had finished
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their meal and had warmed themselves by the fire, they
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made ready to go home, and they asked for their meat.
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The butcher said he would get it for them.
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They looked up at the shelves laden with more food than they
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had ever seen before, hams and cabbages and strings of onions,
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and the little children said there are good onions up there.
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We will buy some and take them home to our grandmother to put
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in her broth. The butcher said there are many
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kinds of onions in the box on the high shelf.
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You must pick out the kind you want.
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I will lift you up to the shelf so that you can see for
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yourselves. So he grabbed each of them by
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the coat between the shoulders, and because of his great
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strength, he lifted them high until they could look down into
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the box and pick out the onions they wanted.
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As he took them down, he thrust them straight out from his body
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at arm's length and held them there, and they laughed because
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of his great strength. Then he brought them together
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with a terrible force, so that their heads struck one another,
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and they were stung by the cruel blow.
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Then he threw them head first in the barrel in the corner, which
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was filled with brine, not with meat like he had said, and he
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left them to pickle there as well.
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He was greatly pleased with the fine load of meat he would get
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in exchange from the giant, who he knew would appear before long
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had passed. Soon the giant arrived.
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He carried a load of meat on his back, and he also drew a sled
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heavily laden with the carcasses of animals that he had killed.
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What cheer for me tonight, and what fortune, he said to the
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butcher as he entered the warm shop with his load.
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And the butcher said good cheer and fine fortune.
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I have a good fat pear for you tonight already pickling in the
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brine. Then he uncovered the barrel in
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the corner and showed the giant the 2 little children sticking
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head first into the pickle juice.
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The giant smacked his fat lips and chuckled and rubbed his
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great hands, so pleased was he with the sight of a such a good
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meal. And he said we will let them
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steep well in the brine until tomorrow.
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I always liked them very salty. They covered up the barrel and
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then they haggled about the price of the meat.
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The giant agreed to give the butcher all of his meat in
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exchange for the children. Then they sat by the fire,
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drinking and eating until far into the night, and the giant
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said that before they went to bed he would like to take
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another look at the children to see how they were pickling.
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So they went and uncovered the barrel.
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Now it happened that Saint Nicholas was in the land at that
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time, as the old man of the House of Bows had said, he had
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come into the land to bring his yearly gifts to the little
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children. In the evening he was many miles
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away from the butcher's shop, but he heard the long soft blast
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of a whistle born on the still evening wind.
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He knew it to be one of his own whistles, and it told him that
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little children were in danger, but it was followed by another
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soft blast. The late blast of Estelle's
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whistle and the two blasts meant that the danger was not yet near
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to the children, that indeed it was far off.
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So I thought that there was no need to hurry to the children's
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aid. Moreover, St.
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Nicholas was just then leaving tiny little dolls for little
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babies and many little houses in the forest, and he decided to
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take his time and finish the giving of all these gifts before
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he set out to the place from which the whistle blast had
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come. At last he was able to go on his
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way. The snow lay deep in the forest
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and travelling was hard, but the white winter moon was shining
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and the path was bright, and Saint Nicholas moved along
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quickly on his snowshoes. Far on in the night he reached
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the butcher's shop from where he knew the children's note of fear
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had come. As he entered the shop, the
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giant and the butcher were just taking their last look before
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going to bed at the children sticking in the barrel of brine.
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They did not know Saint Nicholas, but when they saw him
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they quickly placed the cover on the barrel and were very
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confused. Saint Nicholas was suspicious
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that they were up to some wickedness, and he knew that in
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some way or another the barrel was connected with the dreaded
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harm the children's whistle had told him, and he thought that
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perhaps the children were hidden inside.
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So he said, I have come for meat.
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I want meat that has been pickled in brine.
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I should like a piece from that barrel, but the butcher said it
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is not good meat. I have better meat in the inner
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room. I'll go get it for you.
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So the butcher in Saint Nicholas entered the inner room and
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closed the door behind them, while the giant sat on the
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barrel in the corner, trying to hide it with his great furry
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legs. In the inner room was a barrel
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filled with brine, but only a small piece of meat at the
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bottom. Saint Nicholas said he would
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take that piece. The butcher bent down far into
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the barrel to reach down in search of the meat, but as he
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did so, Saint Nicholas picked him up by the legs and pushed
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him head first into the barrel of brine.
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He spluttered and kicked, but he stuck fast in the barrel and he
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could not get out. Saint Nicholas placed the cover
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on the barrel with a great weight on top of it, and that
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was the end of the wicked butcher.
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Then Saint Nicholas returned to the shop where the giant was
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waiting, still sitting on the barrel.
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He told the giant that he wanted a piece of meat that lay in the
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bottom of the large hogs head of pickle in the other corner.
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He asked the giant to go get it for him, as the hogs head was so
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high that neither he nor the butcher could reach down into
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it. The giant bent far into the hogs
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head and began groping for the meat at the bottom.
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Saint Nicholas took a large bone that lay on the floor and
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standing on a box beside the hogs head, he struck the giant
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with a powerful blow to the head.
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The giant was only slightly stunned, but in his surprise he
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lost his balance and fell head first into the brine.
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He yelled and kicked for a time, but his huge shoulders stuck
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fast. Saint Nicholas covered the hogs
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head, leaving the giant sticking fast in the pickle barrel, and
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that was the end of the giant. Then Saint Nicholas uncovered
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the barrel in the corner in which he had seen the butcher
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and the giant looking in when he had first entered the shop.
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There were two children standing on their heads in the pickle,
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with their feet sticking out at the top.
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He caught them by the legs and pulled them out, and by his
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magic power he soon brought them back to life.
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He gave them food and warmed them by the fire, and soon they
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were none the worse for their hour in the barrel of brine.
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Then he gave them meat and brought them back to their
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grandmother, and they made broth for her, and soon made her well,
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and they were all happy again, and the land was troubled no
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more by giants, for Saint Nicholas never again allowed
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great harm to come to little children, if they always kept
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his whistle near them, and blew softly upon it when they were in
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trouble or distress. The END.
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I like that story. The children just get saved in
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the end by Old Saint Nick just in the nick of time.
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This tale also might be why my trivia mate Brian doesn't like
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Pickles. I like this story and I hope
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you're all having a wonderful holiday season.
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I will be exchanging cash with my family in lieu of gifts
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because cash is better than a gift card.
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It's just kind of Korean style. The podcast shout out is to the
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vocal fries. The show battles linguistic
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bigotry and has a great place to learn about folks who don't
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speak like you. And the listener shout out is to
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Omaha, NE traditional lands of the Omaha people.
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I would love to go and see the site of the house where the
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future leader Malcolm X AKA Detroit Red was born.
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And so I say in Omaha to my listener, and please pardon my
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poor grammar, Awa Azeh Handan. Thank you and good night.