Reverting to what I can remember of childhood, the next thing that is vivid in my memory is the winter of 1880-81, which we spent at Bournemouth. ... While we were there, my German governess told me that one got no Christmas presents unless one believed in Father Christmas. This caused me to burst into tears, as I could not believe in such a personage.
Source: The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell, v.1
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