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* I am afraid I have not had any time to draw you a picture this year. You see I strained my hand moving heavy boxes in the cellars in November and could not start my letters until later than usual and my hand still gets tired quickly. But llbereth, who is now my secretary, has done you what he calls a picture diary. I hope it will do.
Dear children,
Shall I tell you about my pictures? Polar Bear and Valkotukka and Paksu are always lazy after Christmas, or rather after the St Stephen's Day Party. Father Christmas is ringing breakfast in vain. Another day when Polar Bear as usual was late, Paksu threw a bath-sponge full of icy water on his face. Polar Bear chased him all round the house and round the garden and then forgave him, because be had not caught Paksu, but had found a huge appetite. We had terrible weather at the end of winter, and actually had rain. We could not go out for days. I have drawn Polar Bear and his nephews when they did venture out. Paksu and Valkotukka have never gone away. They like it so much that they have begged to stay. It was much too warm at the North Pole this year. A large lake formed at the bottom of the cliff, and left the North Pole standing on an island. I have drawn a view looking South so the cliff is on the other side. It was about midsummer. The North Polar Bear took to trying to paddle a boat or canoe, but be fell in so often that the seals thought he liked it, and used to get under the boat and tip it up. That made him annoyed. The sport did not last long as the water froze again early in August. Then we began to begin to think of this Christmas. In my picture. Father Christmas is dividing up the lists and giving me my special lot - you are in it. North Polar Bear of course always pretends to be managing everything: that is why be is pointing, but I am really listening to Father Christmas and I am saluting him, not North Polar Bear.
We had a glorious bonfire and fireworks to celebrate the Coming of Winter, and the beginning of real 'Preparations'. The snow came down very thick in November and the Elves and Snow-boys had several toboganning half-holidays. The Polar Cubs were not good at it. They fell off, and most of them took to rolling or sliding down just on themselves. Today - but this is the best bit: I had just finished my picture) or I might have drawn it differently. Polar Bear was being allowed to decorate a big tree in the garden, all by himself and a ladder. Suddenly we heard terrible growly-squealy noises. We rushed out to find Polar Bear hanging in the tree himself! 'You are not a decoration' said Father Christmas. 'Anyway, I am alight,' he shouted. He was. We threw a bucket of water over him, which spoilt a lot of the decorations, but saved his fur. The silly old thing had rested the ladder against a branch {(instead of the trunk of the tree). Then he thought, 'I will just light the candles to see if they are working', although he was told not to. So he climbed to the tip of the ladder with a taper. Just then the branch cracked, the ladder slipped on the snow, and Polar Bear fell into the tree and caught on some wire, and his fur got caught on fire. Luckily he was rather damp, or he might have fizzled. I wonder if roast Polar is good to eat? The last picture is imaginary, and not very good. But I hope it will come true. It will if Polar Bear behaves. I hope you can read my writing. I try to write like dear old Father Christmas (without the trembles'), but I cannot do so well. I can write Elvish better:
That is some - but Father Christmas says I write even that too spidery and you would never read it; it says: A very merry Christmas to you all. Love, llbereth.
