World News Sydney 24th December, 1927 p 27
There is is a beautiful belief in Ireland that every Christmas Eve the Christ-Child walks once more through the land, so lighted candles are placed in the window of every homestead and cabin throughout Ireland to guide the Holy Child, lest He lose His way in the dark and cold outside.
In Austria-Hungary this idea is carried still further, for there the doors are opened wide in case the Infant Saviour might wish to come within and rest while on His journey.
The curious legend of the man-in-the moon comes from Germany, where Christmas has always been so essentially the children’s festival. One moonlit Christmas Eve, it is said, a poor peasant was suddenly seized with an overwhelming desire to have some cabbages for his Christmas dinner, and, as he did not have any in his own garden, he decided to steal some from a neighbour’s under cover of night. He betook himself to a quiet garden, and had just gathered his spoil and was preparing to go when, as he reached the gate, the Christ-Child stood before him, and, with sad, pitying eyes, inquired why the man had committed the theft. The ashamed and angry peasant replied roughly, “I did not steal them; Otto told me I might have them.”. And he would have passed by, but the Christ-Child barred the way. At last the culprit was stung to frenzy by those grief-filled eyes, and cried, ‘If I did steal them, may I be put in the moon.” Immediately he was caught up into the white moon, with the bundle of cabbages at his back, and there one may see him still any moonlit night.
In many parts of England, especially in Devon and Cornwall, the belief lingered for many a day that if one looked into a stable any Christmas Eve one would find all the oxen upon their knees at midnight, in memory of the kings who were said to have knelt in adoration round the manger of Bethlehem on that first Christmas night.
In Brittany the peasants believe that this night the cattle receive the gift of speech, and join in praise with all mankind, while in Cornwall the good wives cherish the idea that at this magic hour the water in all wells and fountains is turned into wine, “so holy and gracious is the time.”
The Burren and Beyond 