‘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. l-Ic rosc and raised his glass in tlic direction of the visitor. “Although we haven't the pleas- urc of knowing your name. sir," he began, “I assure you that you arc hearty welcome. and we all hope that you will make n long stay and spend a Merry Christmas." But kind as the words were. they produced no response. Thc farmer sat down almost with a bump. and regarded his visitor for the first time with some impatience. The children's revels went on as if the stranger had not been there; the shadows of the winter day deep- ened and the glow of the great log flrc on the big open hearth grew a deeper crimson and flooded the old hall with its light, amid which lit- tle flsmcs were ever starting up and dying down again, with little twinkl- es on the walls and the framers modest table silver. The farmer opened the window for a moment as it was growing late. "There will be a hard frost. to- night." he announced, ,“and ' the ground will be as hard as a rook to- morrow. I never saw the stars with that clear sparkle in them in winter time. but a frost followed. and a good one." (Continued on page 7) / DON QUIXOTHS XMAS ADVENTURE DON Quixote waked and stretch- ed himself sleepily. Rosinante still slept, leaning his tired old head against a tree. Sancho Pdillfl siioreil vigorously, while his grey mule. cropped the grass at his feet. now and then taking a bite out of the toe of his boot. The lax-it bite hit llle flesh and roused Sancho. who leaped to his feet and chased ilis mule with many maledictions. Don Quixote (ionsidered ihen. both ilrcainily, but when the Squirt‘. retnriiieil astride the mule, a nud- Jleu ininiory struck him. Was it thus that they had started forth on llicii- adventures, Sancho astridc lhi- grey mule, and lie on the good Rosinaiitie, that mighty steed, of whose skin and bones lie saw noiii- ing, having in imagination clothe-l iilin with mighty muscles iiiid sin- t-Wfi of steel‘! Rosinante Quivers All Over "What! ltasi-uilji i-lowii! llast liiul) not seam-lied inc out ‘l. brave adventure, this fair morn?‘ sliout- cd he to Siiiivlio, with such vehem- Milt‘? as lo i-iiiisi: ltosinaiitc lU start niid t|lllVt'l‘ iill over. "Ever sleep - lug, ilulliird. iiioiigli centuries pas“.- i-ii ovr-r ihce, will woiildst thou lack an idea." As indeed, centur- ies iiiivi- passed over both, and lit tic iliti (‘lilll‘l' know, “Sir. lion fjuixiiita." quoth Sau- riio. "Lend on, i follow." With greatest. diflii-ulty the valor- ous knight climbed into his saddle. lie guided ilie good Rosinaiitie along u. gravelly piitii into a wide avenue, on the. one side of which strange monsters raced madly -ln one direction and on the other of which they raced equally as madly in the other (lirection, snorting and grunting at each other. Of a sudden a red light, flashed on. 'l'liereupcin all the monsters ceased to speed madly and drew up in groups 0n either side of the tower at the foot. of which stood a stout iigiire clothed in bliil._ with u. good naked staff at his belt. They Observe a Marvel! For a long moment Don Quixote and Sancho Panza observed this marvel and then another marvel. for the red light disappeared and ubove" it the green appeared, where- upon all the monsters dashed for- ward at surii a speed as though they would bi- sure to strike each other. For all that, and lit-fort, the vnlorous lion Quixote and his good squire had scarce drawn a deep breath. the red light appeared aigsin, and all stopped racing, snort- lug, however, uiid anxious to be ofi‘. "Tlierc are tlic famous Racing hionsteis," quoth the Don. "And these l shall attack alone, tiint l-llt‘ good favor o1‘ my Dulcina of To- boso may lie won, and tlic world well rid of a strange and mighty peril." - “Nay. nay!" qiioled Sancho. "Good Sir Knight, let me beg of you to let them be. _it is not a purpose oi all Knight-errant to res’ cue those in distress? Let me ask you bruvc mail, who doth norfenr them, where some good folk may be. toward whom all these mons- ters fiillg themselves." Seeks Another Adventure. "(lo then and return right i|uiek~ ly." quoth the Knight, "for I would sock a new and fair adventure." Again, the red light caused that great marvel that all the monsters should stop together, and so trot- ting at his best speed, Sancho Pan- za reached the stout man. "Good Sir," said he with tremu- lous voice, for tlie monsters snort- ~=d either siiic of him and seemed only too anxious to rim him down. "My master yonder—" "Watch your step!" shouted the blue clad one as he clutched the miilWs bridle. “Now what is it?“ Monsters Make Rush Sancho could not ilnd words, for llie monsters hail shot forward iigiiiii and he found himself ho.- iwccn two swiftly moving streams. 'l'lie next pause, he grasped— “My Master would suocor those in ilisiress." “\Vliut'.'" “My master would help those in ilistress!" “Oh. l thought you were adver- tising something. it's the (loud Fellows, you want l guess, here, take tliis in that. number. They will fix you up." Sancho returned to his master in lilo next pausi- of the monsters. “We are to go to La number," said lic, “on tliis street." Study the Buildings After studying the buildings op- posite for sometime, they discover- cd that each bore a number in I1 sequence, niid thnt their number might be close by. Keeping on the soft grass and out ofthe path of the monsters they rode until they found them- selves opposite tho required num- ber. A lull in the race of‘ mons- lEP-‘i Kaye them opportunity to cross the dangerous pathway and lllefl‘. Rqsinants was delighted to find a small bubbling fountain on n white pedestaL RlBht eagerly did he quench his thirst. The mule was tied to a host with a metal box on it, and I the ligoii Don gave himself over to meditations on his Dulcinea while Sancho went indoors. Strange Person Appears (llail in blue, with much ham‘. some gold braid s. strange person. approached him. n "My Master would help those in distress," quoth Sancho as before —"we were sent her-he, the stout one with the truncheon saitli~lo the (loud Follows—wherever they may be." “llere, step iii, ninth floor, Good b‘i-llow.~i—" And Sancho walked into s. tiny room with much gold paint and mirrors. iu a moment he stat-KEPT" ed against the wail, and clutched at ‘his portly waist, fur the room sri-nieil to be rising at ll. breathless speed. ills heart leaped and fBll. for the room stopped rising and the courteous person who guided ii said, "ninetli floor, plesc, first door to tlii- riglii ‘for (loud Fol loans." Manhattan in December As the door opened a biong young , llllllLSPfllPd at it desk closed the book wlih a sigh-it was "The IN- llghtfiil llistory of the itiost iii- genious Knight, Don Quixote of tlic Mfllltrllfl." lie stared ul the Llitrud- or and rubbed his eyes and pinch- ed himself and slim-d again. it, was the Squire, no less-anal ilils was Manhattan in December. “You are Sauicho Panza, us l live ~lloly Mackeml! How (701110 you here!" "Strange thou shouliis'l know me, though l have not the iiqiiin" o!‘ knowing thee," said Saint-inn, “no iioulii. my master's fame iteached thine ears. The valuroim Dun Quixote oi‘ the ltlaiii'lia—it ' ‘is he who has sent me here to relieve those in ilislrwss.“ . Food for Christmas Dimer _“’I‘o be sure, to be siire-vlet go to him at once. Has lic many ducats ilo you think? For with these we can buy food at tliis plen- Halli, ifihristnias season for tliuac who would otherwise want for il- aiid relieve their distracts." (Thus came tho language easily to that Biting Young Man, for~he lrad butt. closed the book.) Sancho would not try tiii- iittln room that had shot him up, so llmv" many, many stairs they walk- ed and found the Don at he curb- stone. “Cmc with mo," said the young man, and led them into a. rich and mighty market, where strange‘ foods and fruits were mils-played for rliile- Qlthese-they bought great iluantitiei? niid went forth again to a monster standing quietly iii 1h.- curb. “Sit with me, Siluire, niid you, Sll‘ Knight. guard these foods in the roar seat." llh‘ Relieves Self of Bundles filumsily Don Quixote disposed himself with all the bundles while the siluire sot beside the young ‘man in the front part of tlic mons- hi‘. Suddenly with a soft snort it. silo}. forivard and joined the other Tflflllli! monsters. And all day long. D0" QUIXOLB. the Squire and till‘ lllillld Young “an guy» out iooii for Christmas eating to those who wit"? D001‘ and in ills-tress. or want. Y0" 53y this pleasant talc wants proof? F01‘ this you are referrcil to the lllOllll Yolllli! lifaii who fell zislcep “V” ll" llliilofi’ 0f Don Quixote o!‘ lll0 lfaiichzi, For thus did these llllnllfi llappen in December in lllfll, Klf-‘lll (‘lly 0i‘ Manhattan. cARnviNe THE BANNER OllB (lily. during tlic prohibition campaign iii Ontario, n ilumhar m‘ children f'roni tlic various (luv schools were in u temperance par- adethrougli tlic streets of Ottatvn. All" llll‘ llflrlldc was over the sou of a uwell-knovrn business ma" eni- iired his office. ll'~'l_l0, young mini." snid the fil- “lfir- wlllll- lPPlllK-“l you uptown?" l was in ihc parade." Tflllllllil liiP hopeful. -~ l .. “lllll- Dannie? asked dad. who “wig, "Hvml" 01' ill" llroiressioii. Pll. runfeesscil tlic son, "i lllllllli) what it was about lint l i-zin- N‘?! l1 l>liI_ Sign made of carilboard." ‘"' “mi a "ill" t" the nature of the event. "What did it say oh 1hr. sign?" salilohd llvag the m“ reply, "it just - - ‘ave No Shoes. Father is d ilrunkaril." _'_‘"—i.ri~ -..._~.,_ b It came upon the midnight clear, FThe glorious song of old, ‘gm lmsels bending near tlic cartii u o touch their harps of gold; Peace on the earth. good-will to men. From heaven's all gracious King. Thc world in solemn stillness lay. To hear the angels sing. F" l°l ll"? days are hastening on By prophet-bards foretold. When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold; When ‘peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splcndors fling, And the whole world give back the song. which now the angels sing. ‘Z