‘the heart, iniliion is made, the millionaire is y

' illlCe.

_ some have tiint.

DECEMBER 274. 1927 _

IF I WERE FATHER CHRISTMAS

.§..__.________ By lilobert Power. (Author of “Two Minute: Taiksr’)

“if l were a millionaire", was the subject of a series of articles which tl read some yeaiifago, ar- ticles in which men, celebrated in various walks of lii'e, set forth wiiat they thought they "would do it they had a million pou-uds to their credit at the bank.

Those were interesting articles, but, as [T8891 them, I wondered whether any of these men, lfthey foiinii themselves in possession of a million, would really behave as they said they would.

0f course, they all proposed to be very generous, to bestow money Just where it was; most needed, and where the greatest good would ironic of their gifts. But itliouglit, and still t ink, that u. great change must come over u man when he iiiiils himself entitled to call him- self a millionaire, fol-there are al- ready in the world many million- aires, and none of them do as these mun would have done.

MONEY AND HAPPINESS:

Perhaps it is that the getting of a million i-nvo-ivcs such a. narrow- ing oi outlook, such a suppression of the more generous impulses of that, by the time the

bereft of those good intentions which might have been his when he i'irst set out upon his wenitli- pursuing career.

That is why l have always thought it poor t'uii to» speculate (in vtliat .i would ilo if l were ii millionaire; for, somehow, despite the lavish generosity o-i some, wealthy men, the millionaire is re- gurded us being either n miscr or one who lavishes money only upon his personal comfort or upon osten- tatious extravagauces,

But to picture oneself as Father (‘hristmaskthat is different!

Father Christmas doe-s not mea- sure his beneiactious in terms oi‘ money. He seeks simply to give happiness. Sometimes his gift is only a sixpenny toy, but it is just the plaything some child has crav- cd. Tho child may not know, and if he doe-s, he does not cure, that the toy cost biit sixpeiico. Tliiit is a consideration of no inipoit- The factor that-counts is that thc gift is just the thing re- quired to crown tiint child's llap- piness; monetary value matters nothing.

iicrc, then, is ~- the principle ivhicii guides those who maintain tlic myth of Father Christians;

"licre, then, is tho principle llllvll - which Father Christmas docs his

got-d deeds. CHILDREN FIRST:

in that spirit I would go my wily. bestowing gifts upc-n mankind. if it were is my power to do so. l would cudoavi-iir t0 lily? l0 93°“ jugt that gift which might lii- ne- cessary ‘do IiappliLss, though it might not always be the thing whlch the receiver believed to l"! necessary.

First come coiirsc, Father

tho children, of Christmas mil-st, carry a varied stock; his suck ils nut fillcd nt a milllfl liYQlllIP-llml warehouse, but a (iertnin iiiiiforiii- iiy would be inevitable, it l were Father Christmas. On most. of the children l would liBHiOW illlll gift, which, apart from n (iod-fear- ing heart, is needed by nearly iill i-i them in after-life.

-l would give them cobra!"-

Sn-me need physical colirilco; but need moral Most, children need 01K’- or other. ‘Only tho favoured 0f the gods linvc both. l would give cncli just the brand of courage n0- i-cssary to usurc that, in Bite!‘ life, lic or slit would bu a winner and not a. t.iiiiier.

Au u secondary gift, if would be- stow tlic emotion oi ilPllllllillB iill" on certain children, on those r-f the type we rail "modern." l would give them lhcjwwcr to H00 liow children are luckiilil ill ll sense o-i gratitude, and it iiaildens tho parents’ hearts. brings a cipllil into the home, and fort-shadows n strong element of iselifishness in the mnn oi- woman of the future.

courage.

FOR YOUTH:

The elder children, thr-so who have crossed this-junction of blwk and rlvor, and are now on lilo threshold of manhood tnd woman- hood, these, t.oo, would I endow with a sense of fllllllllle- l WW1“ huye them feel thankful that they wore born when they were, and not a little earlier. For their own happiness they shoul-d bedntense-

"ly thankful that they were not cal-

led upon to make tho sacrifices that their elder brothers and sist- ers hurl to make in order to 6'"- sure that those who followed them would be able to 5c ilwll‘ WHY! l?” from the menace of war and the domination of force.

Too few of the youths of today appreciate what was won for them. and at what cost. , FEW your: girls appreciate that, unlike the generation of women beiflrfl lllelli» they will not know the anslllfill "l being widowed early in life. 0i‘ 0i’ seeing the man lo whom they lillyl‘

given their hearts, blinded, crip- pled, or cut c-if in the very noon- tide of life. if these facts were ‘realised, there would be less grum- bling and discontent, less seeking after excitement, and a greater all- preciatit-n of the simple joys of life whose continuance has been made possible by the incstiniablc sacrifices of a generation, even now, is but a little older than ill8lllS8lV6B—-—l.ll0 generation that lost its youth.

TO THE WORRIED:

'i‘i;- those who are worried and full of apprehension concerning tho future, i would give peace. of mind. by presenting them with a record of their past fears alld oi past events. arrayed side by side, i would enable them to see how sei- dt-m In the past, were their fears justified, and how often the future brought unexpected joys iusteuti of expected troubles. -

By the hedsides of those who regard themselves as soldiers of idealism, tilfisv who iisiit for great files-s which they believe to be right, iwouid leave a lteuero-us measure of tolerance. So often, people with ‘the highest motives. people of great moral courage, stul- tify their pc-wer for K0011 lly llelllil uttcily intolerant of the views of others. -By the gift, l would be- stow, they would be made much happier than they imagine, be- cause they would find tliiit, sweet- ened by toleiaiicc, their advocacy would he all the more effective. "An idea whose iioiir has come is stronger than nlmies" wrote Vii‘- tor Hugo. ‘But the hour doe-s not arrive uniil ithe ailvc-cates of the idea have converted the mfllflfliy to their way of thinking; and ill- tolerance never yet made a. con- vert.

To the lonely I would give. mil friends for that would he encour- aging a serious fault which usual- ly exists in the irieiidless, but tlic power to llltlke friends. Be their exteriors what ili'ey may, there is no doubt that tlic majority of peo- ple have ‘kindly, friendly hearts. Those who do not fcci the Wllrlll glow of human friendship, need to be enlightened, so that they may see that their isolation can. easily be cured by drawing their chairs up to the fire.

To tho lovers, nccd anything be given’? Surely, they have all that is essential to happiness? Yes, but l would give them a spec" ific to "fix" their love, sonletiliflil to ful'fill the same puriwse as 11w chemicals which fiX a DhOiQBPB-Dll so that time shall not fade it nor bright light obliterate the images it hears. My specific would be a mixture compounded of much patience and a liberal sense of hil- lll0ill'. With this, ir-vcrs might maintain, tliiougliout lifc, tlic love tiint is now their precious posses- sion, and cllilllle it. to resist the rav- ages of time and harsh glare of realities.

TRY IT YOU HSELF:

Thus l would proceed, visiting

. llio country cottages, tlic long nio-ll-

otonous rows of town-tlwellerK-i houses, tho complacent suburban villas, and tho mansions of the well- io-do. All their inhabitants have needs, and some do not know wilat they need. save that it be a. thing tiint will make them happy. ' Why not plny_th'is ganio of Faili- er Christmas fc-r yourself? Why not enjoy the luxury of doing good? Here are some suggestions.

~li' you are fortunate cnoulzll l" have parents, give them news that will make them proud of you. ilf you have children, give them the best example of ‘which you are call- uhlo, it you have enemies, give them pardon. To your friends, give tho key to your heart. To those who have fallen by the way- side, to the outcasts, give your hand and sympathetic understand- ing. thanking God tho while that your own misdeeds have escaped similar punishment. .

And when you have finished {your round, perhaps there will be something left in tlic suck for yourself. Probably it will be a packet marked "self respect," and labelled with Shakespeare's poi- ent words: “This, above all, to thine, own self be true and it must follow as the night the day, tlinii cniist not ihen be. false to any man." ‘

CHRISTMAS roan

Shepherds and mid quiet night, -And iwise men from afar. Tho manger and the stable still.

And the bright guiding star.

sheep

‘Ancient and ever new they seem. Symbols and sounds of film-

The glory shining itllnrouud . And singing Seraphlm.

0. Holy Hope. O, Lonely Love. i0, lligh llllfl Humble Child, Wi-n: hack tho world from war and greed

To Peace and Mercy mllll-

—Jolm Berolford. --—-oo>————

Dinner for nothing is more de- sirable than nothing for dinner.

A true friend stands by you when you are under n cloud, Swarms cf insects surround you when the sun shines.

- the closed door;

ms omrinorrsrows eusitnizrs I

CHRISTMAS EX PECTANCY.

_..._-..___ _._ __ _

~ THE SILENT GUEST -

The first born son knocked at tlic farmer's door.

"There's an old gentleman with white hair, sitting before the fire- place downstairs," lie announced,

“Don't disturb him," came the muffled, voice of the farmer through _ “it's Christmas morning, and lie is some visitor no doubt."

When the farmer presently des- cended to the hall—their common living room-he found an old white- haired man sitting in a frayed tap- estry chair, once part of the furni- ture when the place was a Manor House. The farmer stood, puzzled.

His visitor had tlic undoubted ap- pearance of a country gentleman, lllll 0f 10118 8E0- I-Ie utorc a brown velvet jacket. and a silk handker- chief aimost hung fi'om his pocket in an old-fashioned way. His white hair and clean-shsveu face gave him rt distinguished appearance.

“Good morningsir," began the farmer. "I wish you a Merry Christ- mas. You're hearty welcome."

There was no reply and he con- tinned:

"You see," he said, "we only came in last Michaelmas, and we don't know all our neighbors yet. Might you he Squire Peiifold, sir?" he asked.

Therewns still no ‘answer, and then he noticed tiint tlic old man was holding a faded letter in his right hand. It rested on his knee, and was covered with small writing.

Thc farmer, more puzzled than ever, went on tip toc out of the room after shaking the smouldering ilrc togethcr and putting on a log:

"Mother." he said, when he got to the kitchen, “this is a vcry strange affair. No doubt Harry has told you all about it."

"Yes," the farmer's wifc replied. "Harry has told inc about tlic old gentleman sitting by the great fire- place in the hail. But don't you think, John, he ‘is some neighbor, who has conic down for Christmas? Perhaps lic is staying with Squire Peufold." '

The farmer 130k iiis head.

"I don't think s0, ivifc," lic ans- wered, “because when I mentioned his name, he took no notice."

"But he takes no notice of any- one," shc answered.

“No, he just sits tlicrc and seems to be reading an old letter."

A few minutes later, John Troliskc. the farmer. called his family togeth- er in the kitchen. Three flnc boys. and a corresponding number of girls, responded.

“Children? tlic farmer began, "there is something happening in the house this Christiiiiistidc which I don't quite understand, but which other people may. But we arc iiew- comers, only here thrcc months, and we cannot be expected to know ev- erything. _

,,"As you no doubt know, wc have a Christmas visitor in the hall, an old gentleman, and we must trcat liiiu in the spirit of Christmas. Ii iic wishes to sit. by tlic fire and not speak to us, let him do it. Don't in- terfere with him in any way. In fact, we will keep our Christmas in our own style. just as if he were not

there; except that he must be treat- _

td with the greatest respect as an honored guest. And now let's go to breakfast."

It was a curloiis meal that break- fast on Christmas morning; for, in spite oi their father's warning, fur- tive glances were continually going in the direction of tlic silent guest.

When a cup of coffee and apiate of sizzling sausages and bacon were placed on a little table at tlic guest's elbow, they remained un- tastecl, but it created only a mild surprise.

It was a most extraordinary situ- ation.

The farmer, after brushing the crumbs off his best waistcoat. rose. and the others did with him. but not a move nor a sign from their silent visitor. ~ “D0 ‘ee think it's all right, mum?" demanded one of tlic farm girls presently. "Do ‘ee think he's really a man and not a spirit?"

The girl had just returned from the hall with a tray and looked rather scared.

Mrs. ‘Proliske knew very well that it would never do for a rumor to get about that thére was a ghost in the house.

"He's as real and alive as you are. Barbara," was her reply. and she made a dash for it. “It's old Squire Penfold. who never comes near his property down here, come for Christmas."

Mrs. 'I‘reliskc swallowed a lumpin her throat. ’

"He's deaf and dumb,“ shc added,

By DIXON KAYE.

turning lici" llC-dd awn-j ‘to hidclicr blushes.

"Ah, I liecrd talk of him." Bar- bara replied, “he's flesh and blood alright. There's no ghost about. him. Yes, he do look a perfect gen- tleman, that he do."

And so the fears oi were calmed.

Thc farmer headed tlic detach- ment for church while his wife was left behind to superlntcnd thatgrcut annual effort. the Christmas dinner.

A well-stuffed turkey already per- forming pirouettcs ona jack before the great kitchen fire. a huge ham. and a plum pudding that would not have disgraced the table of a Lord Mayor, were among tlic principal items which were to iced tlic eight mouths of the family and two maids! All tlic other fnriii SCI‘- vniits. in the modern manner, lived out.

It was a most anxious morning for the farmer's wife, and amidst her tasks and those of the maids, their visitor iii the hull, was forgotten.

Thc elder of the maids, who occu- pied the position oi cook. although most of the cooking was done by tlic farmer's wife herself, exhibited great

tlic maids

curiosity on tlic subject of tlic un-.

expected guest: her duties taking iiei- into tlic hall. she 11nd a good look at. tho silent figure sitting in tlic old frayed tapestry chair by tlic great fireplace.

She returned i0 tlic kitchen quite ' satisfied.

"Oh. yes, mum." she announced. "I've sccu him. I iizid a good look at, him. He bciuu deaf didn't hear me coming. He's all right, there's. no doubt. Nobody but a gentleman would WCIII‘ SllPll boots."

And Iinnuah. the pseudo-cook. wondered clccp down iii lltil‘ soul wliethcr tlic old gentleman would wnkc up and givi- lirr sali-zi-sovvr- cigu on Boxing DajJ! ,

Farmer 'I‘i-i=iiske walked iiomc from church with tlic siteward of ilit- estate. .

“Yes, tlic man l succeeded told mo many a talc of tlic ‘old Hull you iivrtl in, bcforc it, was burnt, down. ll. wits ii grand place in those days. although I iicvcr saw it; about twice as big as it is now. But thcrc was some uiystcry about it I never got ‘to tlic bottom of. Poistephen. tlic old steward. having been o servant of tlic family for over fifty years, would say nothing. especially to me; he looked upon inc as an intcrlopci- and an upstart. ivlieii I came hero to learn my business under him. But anyhow tlic place had been shut up for twenty ycnrs before tlic iirc."

The farmer was meditating; ho knew it, was nu usc trying to stop tlIC children's mouths. Thc fact that. they had it mysterious visitor was nil over tlic village by this time.

Hc decided to tell Mr. Durward. tlic Slflvflfil, all about it.

"We've got s visitor at tlic farm." he began.

"A rclntivc from London down for Christmas?" the oihcr vcniuiwid to ask.

"No-o," answered tlic farmer dii- biously. “I don't know who he is."

The steward stopped and looked at. him.

"You incrm to say," he asked, "that you have gut a visitor in the housc and don't know who he is?"

The farmer iinstrercd at once.

"I don't." lic replied; "I wish I did."

Durward. the steward, more puzzled than cvcr.

“Then how did he come tlicrc?" he asked.

In a fcw words, Former Trcliskc explained tlic situation as well as he could.

"And he doesn't speak or eat or drink," the ‘her commented. “Is he real flesh and blood?"

“He looks as much a man as you or me," was thc answer. "Would you like to come and have a look nt him?"

"Well, if I sliairt be in the way I should like to look at him for a minute," Durward nnswered.'

They were close to tho road lead- ing up to the old l-laii, aiid they turned into it.

It was but a step from the door into the big hall. and Durward stood before the fine old fireplace in won- derment; but he shook his head as he turned away.

"He's a stranger to me," he said. "To the best of my belief, I have never seen him before. And yet." hc continued. deep in thought “there is something about it all which seems to awaken a history in my mind, but what it. is I cannot tell you. I cannot recollect."

Treliske insisted on the steward having a glass of cherry brandy: then, having wished each other a

looked

Merry Christmas, they parted.

"If he doesn't come to life by to- morrou,’ morning," were Tll€llSk8'S last words, “I shall consult Parson."

Thc next great event was the Christmas dinner. The farmer and his children entered the hall and took their places, just as if no silent visitor had appeared. The old gentle- man retained the same position by the fire and-his silence.

Efresentiy Mrs. Treliske came in smiling in her bcst dress; victory over the many difficulties of the Christmas dinner was written in ev- ery line of her face.

"I think you will like the turkey," she announced with a glance at the old velvet-coated gentleman by the fire. "The ham may be a little over- boiled, but not. much."

"Better" over-boiled. than under- boiled," commented tlic farmer.

"The pudding." announced Mrs. ‘Trellskc with a glance at the spark- ling eyes of he‘ children. "I think will be a success."

But no mention of these dainties llild any effect upon the visitorsit- ting by the grand old fireplace; his eyes were upon the logs. and his old yellow letter lay ‘in his listless grasp.

The Christmas dinner proceeded as it had always done in the farm- ers family. in pciicc and goodwill, Determined to carry out the laws cf- hospitality as he understood thcm. i0 the lcticr, tlic farmer carv- cd for tlic visitor and the plate was placed on n. small table withaglass of sherry near him. but neither by word nor sign did that tvhitc-headeti iigurc signify that hc knew what was iiicrr.

“Nobody shall come to my house on Christmas Day without having food offered to him," remarked the farnivi‘. when tlic plate had been carried to the stranger.

Viiluin llic turkey had been demol- ished and a great gap made in the liugc hum, Mrs. Trcliskc said:

"Now for tlic pudding!"

This was tlic long looked for sig- iiul for cries of joy and a general rustic oi excitement among the chil- dren, during which in a whisper iisidc Mrs. Trciiskc gave orders for the removal of the stranger's un- touched platc. ‘

"Use it in the kitchen." she said.

So the kitchen was richer by a heaped plate of turkey and ham, ovcr and above its iisuai portion. through the visit of the silent and fasting old man.

The pudding clinic in with the time-honored ceremonies of blazing

- brandies and holly. and was greeted

with a rousing cheer by the cliiiren; but tlic old man by the fire moved not, neither did he take heed when a plate with a liberal slice was placed at his elbow. The pudding and the sherry stood untested.

The farmer. iiowevcr. helped iiim- self to a second glass of the latter and filled up his wife's; the old gen»- tieinaii was getting on his nerves.

But, it. was not until the pudding iras taken away and pears and ap- ples and oranges, and the much be- lovcd almonds and raisins were put on the table. that the fun really be- gan. Inserted among the fruit were various crackers. and amid the livc- ly flrc of these. tlic old man by tlic fire was forgotten; but not by the farmer, who filled himself n glass of port niid served out half n one to (‘ilCll of tlic children.