"And, if you can find them, bring a dozen witches' brooms."
The order was from the superintendent of a Sunday school at Portland.
This was the winter after our first memorable venture in selling
Christmas trees in the city, when we had left the two large firs that we
could not sell on the steps of two churches. The _Eastern Argus_ had
printed an item the next day, saying that the Sunday-school children
wished to thank the unknown Santa Claus who had so kindly remembered
them.
I suppose we should hardly have given away those two trees if we could
have sold them; and my cousin Addison, who was always on the lookout to
earn a dollar, sent a note afterward to the Sunday schools of both
churches, informing them that we should be very glad to furnish them
with Christmas trees in future, at fair rates. Not less than five
profitable orders came from that one gift, which did not really cost us
anything.
"What in the world are 'witches' brooms'?" Addison exclaimed, after
reading the order. Theodora echoed the query. We had heard of witches'
broom-sticks, but witches' brooms were clearly something new in the way
of Christmas decorations.
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