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J vet " 1 • \ . ;:■ • *- i AN MORRIS had run away from his heme on the farm and none of the family had heard a word concerning him in the three years that followed. Dan was the youngest of three children — “hei baby,” as old Mrs. Morris ab ways said—and hated farm work “If brother Jim likes it, let him do it,” he had told the family defiantly. ‘‘I’m going to some big city where a fellow has some chance to see life and make his for tune. I’m through with haying all day long in the scorching sun, milking cows and feeding hogs, and then hav ing to sit in the dark on the porch listening to nothing but frogs and katydids until you have to go to bed if you want to get up in time to do it all over again next day. I’m through, I tell you!” The family had tried to reason with Dan, but it was of no use. One morn ing they found him gone, leaving only the briefest note of good-by to his mother. And now the tyird Christmas since his going had conae and {he fam ily itself was going In to the big city to spend holidays with Julia, who had married and lived there. Ordinarily Julia and her husband, with little Bobbie, came out to the farm visiting the old folks and brother Jim at Christmas, but this year Julia had a new baby, scarce four mon&s old, and hadn’t felt equal to the trip. So father and sweet-faced mother Morris—their hair already white and with the years’ anxjety for their missing Dan reflected in wrin kled faces—packed up all sorts of home-made eatables in baskets and had sun-burned brother Jim take them for the first time to the big city. S It was a bewildering adventure to those simple souls; each incident of the journey and novel sight after ar rival was a never-to-be forgotten ex- perielfce. Fred, Julia’s brisk and Kihnaprh Ig CJlmta BY OOODLOEH. THOMAS My dad sezonce they lived a boy ’Us bound that be would see OldSanta Claus—an’ had no joy Fer dunkin’ how Tud be To hidc behind a screen an? wait Till Santa come TKen watch him waiSn*lo“5P around, alfePUT Verses.to Send With Christmas Presents it) m. With Embroidery or Any Needlework. May all your years be fiad and bright, Deep filled with pleasant days. And all your hours know sweet delight Of love that lives and stays! With some such wishes, true and kind, Each Christmas should begin. While some of. these must surely bint J ““BwaiiSi*■'Ttrey'Vir been sewed in! crate— Without a word or sound. Well,ChristmasEve,this boyleton ’At he was sound asleep, An’when he knowed the rest had gone To bed, he went a-creep Down stairs—an’ gracious!— watcha think 1 He run against him—smack! Old Santa, yes-sir—’n quick as wink That boy *uz in his pack. With a Gift to a Smoker. Wnen clouds of smoke around you float Think sometimes of this loving (friend ly) (cordial) note. When pictures In the smoke you see the Waft now and then a thought to me, But though you newer joys evoke, Don’t let our friendship “end in smoke.” With a Box of Candy. "Sweets to the sweet,” the wise old saw, I quote because ‘tis fitting. And tribute pay unto the law With gladness unremitting, “Like uQto like'' is also true, Therefore these candies haste to you. 1 With Music or Musical Instrument. Because the very thought of you. Makes music in my mind, Pray let me share the music true. The sweetest (gayest) (brightest) I could And. An* ever since that boy has been Strapped up an’ has to go With Santa, fer just that one sin, Through miles of ice an’snow; An’ yon bet I ain’t gonna take Nochanctlikeihat—not quite! You’ll find 'at 1 won’t be awake When Santa comes to-night. all wrapped and tied ready for the tree, but not to be opened by anybody until Christmas morning. Here’s— why, mother! You’ve got one parcel here marked wrong I It has Dan’s name on It!” Mother Morris dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Please, don’t laugh, at me, chil dren,’^ she said sadly, “It’a my Dan’s Christmas as much as it is that for With a Laundry List or Bag. Thla gift ia clean, aa you may aee, So, every time you’d cleaner be Juat send a pleasant thought to ifte. To “Her," With a Pair of Glovea. O little thumbs, and Angers, too, I can but wish that I were you, rell her—but no! She’ll understand. WfthxrBookr^- I cannot make new. worlds Yet these closed covers for you true— Be pleased to enter in my name! To a Lady, With Slippers. O pretty slippers.. small and slight. Be sure to lead her steps aright; And when her dainty feet you hold. Guard them alike from hurt and cold. With Shaving Materials. Should you cut yourself in shaving, Don’O-blame—me! Small effect has bitter raving When the wound one may not see. But should your razor smoothly glide, Include me in your smile so wide. With Any Christmas Gift Here’s a thought of joyous cheer For Christmas and for all the year! to keep my poor pld grandma Morris, who’s gor white hair now, from wor rying and crying any more over her boy Dan. You see. Mister Santa,, my uncle Dan ran away from home a long, long time ago, before I was born, and my grandma keeps saying she can’t rest until she sees him again. She’s visiting my papa and mamma at home now, and I saw a present she has all wrapped up and labeled for uncle Dan if you’ll be good enough to find him and bring him out to our house tonight. Won’t you do that, please, mister Santa?” With a choking cry the white- whiskered one stumbled to his feet, any the rest of us, and I I was hoping that maybe we’d find him here near iy upsetting his little snow .house in the city now that we've come here ourselves.” It was pathetically absurb, that barren little hope of the bereaved old mother, but PQQf of them even lat her them smile at It. The afternoon - before Christmas and searching Bobbie’s wonder-round ed eyes ia hungry disbelief. “Yon are Julia Morris’ little boy?" he muttered dazedly. “And you say : |hat.... that your grandmother realty “Pm Bobbie ^Wallace." hearty husband, welcomed them at the station and thrilled them with a ride out to their daughter’s apart ment on the elevated railway. It was a joyous reunion, but—as mother said, with a. sudden break In her voice— “it can’t be as if my baby, our Dan, were here with us too.” “There, there, mother,” said father Morris, patting her quivering shoulder consolingly. “You mustn’t think about Dan just now. He’ll return to us some day when he’s become rich and fa mous. Just look hbre, Julia—and you too, Fred!—all the mouth-watering stuff that Ma’s brought you from the farm. Home-chUrned, uncolored but ter rolls those are! And , here's three stuffed six-pound turkeys that were gobble-gobbling around the bams r ,ir dors ago. I ley, litile FZ-h ! D you tve j < • v of jam , •>* • r wate^c-'lrn p’^kley? And 'a. ■ .n. i.4 .• * u>er.b Julia persuaded her husband to take little Bobble dowtyown so that he could not surprise her trimming the tree. Brother Jim and the old folks went along. Little Bobbie naturally was most of all interested in the toy depart ments and hardly could be made leave hold some of the playthings he most fancied. “Oh see, daddle! A hofsle that rocks, with a mane and bridle and ever’thing!.... And oh, grandma! lookit! looklt! There’s a real live Santa Clans talking to those other little boys and girls!" It was indeed. The big store had hired a rather shabby-looklng yonng man that week, who for $15 was sup posed to sit at t|^ door of an imita tion snow house and solemnly encour age visiting youngsters to tell him their fondest wants in the line of pres ents. Little Bobbie was impatiently waiting in line, holding fast with one chubby fist to his father’s hand, in no time. Mother and father Morris) and big brother Jim watched and waited smilingly for them on the edge ol the crowd. “Well, my little man, what Is your name?” asked the scarlet-coated and long white-whiskered Santa' Claua in a 'tired, husky , voice when Bobble’i turn finally caipe. .1 “I’m Bobbie Wallace, dror Mr. Santa Claus, and I live at 5601 Byrne street," the boy chirruped at him, rouqd-eyed and devoutly believing in the identity of Santa. “My mamma’s name is* Julla v Wallace and I’ve got a little baby sister now, too." The long-whiskered Santa patted his head in perfunctory weariness. “And what do you most want me to pat In your stocking this Christmas Eve, Bobble?” he asked with a side long glance at the tolerantly smiling father. “We—ell,” drawled Bobble tracer tainly, "there are lots and lots ol things I want awful, awful much, Mister Santa Claus, but I heard ay mamma r;ay this morning that iff ever s<-* much nicer to wish for thing! for those that love you than for your self. So I... I guess, I ought to ask you wants her worthless runaway Dan to come back to her? ....is waiting here in the city for him now? Oh, my God!” Fred, Bobbie’s father, caught at the Santa’s arm as he reeled un steadily sidewise as if about to faint, and in so doing knocked off the bushy white whiskers. “Aw!” wailed Bobbie, facing his first childish disillusionment, “he isn’t a real Santa after all!" Back through the amazed and rather Indignant crowd of shoppers old mother Morris was coming as fast as her trembling legs would permit, and above the noise and calls of clerks at the counters, could be heard her thrilling, quavering outcry: found my lost boy at last!’ A Gift From Santa When God’s Revelations Come. It was while they were watching their flocks—the common duty of their common days—that the word of Christ’s coming was brought' to' the shepherds. It is when we are faith- “Danny! Oh, Ddnny! Danny 1 I’ve I fully busy with common duties that God’s revelations usually come to us. For a Good Little Girl \ . -\ m L t ^ ; < h j 'vjVr’ • <* Mm# (Mfristmas f lnoe you, unchid, may clasp her hand, «“ ' Whether it be prattled on baby Bps that scarce can shape the words, or saying them, thinks not, but only feels * 5 insensate averflow_ of. giving, )m a soft, full heart.. • Although it be mumbled inarticulate ly by the shabby nonentity whose whine for charity one acknowledges in the spirit of the season, even while knowing that the words be said in servile mockery ... If it be breathed by mother mouth, the sad, sweet lines of which were molded so by a yearning, prodigal ring de* With Picture of Some Rural Scene. If your thoughts of town axe weary. Rest your eyes and dream, Gazing on this plctur* cheery Of woodland (rural) (springtime) (ver nal) vale and stream; * 4 Remember* that had I my way. Such joys would greet you every day. tenderness and an unfaltering votion, be itsobject worthy or not;. * Whether it be panted from between the warm, moist lips of maidenhood —tremulous, palpitant, shame-faced and shy because of an ardor which it dreads to comprehend ... Although it be uttered by maid, matron or man, friend, chance ac quaintance, tradesman or servant . Hbrnf GUpiatmaa to to fxmra By DE LYSLE FERREE CASS A Few Dorits for Christmas Don’t court indigestion. j Don’t grumble, whatever you do. Don’t half fill the kiddies’ stockings. Don’t give presents which will be useless. Don’t forget the mistletoe. Romance still lives. Don’t fnrget that It ought TO Pe a berry Christmas. Don’t deny the little ones’ ideas about Santa Claus. i Don’t worry about unpaicLbills—at any rate until tomorrow. • Don’t scoff at the lingering super stitions of the good old days. I Don’t for the show of . things, buy presents which you can’t afford. Don’t expect too many presents. Take what you get and be thankful. Don’t, if you get up on your wrong, side, make everybody else miserable. Don’t forget to think at least once during the day what Christmas really means. j Don’t give a present unless you want to. Better not give at all than give in sincerely. Don’t forget that the giving of Christmas boxes, like, charity, should begin at home. ■ Don’t, If you are a girl, stand under the mistletoe until yon see the-right chap approaching. • Don’t kiss somebody else’s best girl, even though she Is under the mistle toe. There might be a row. Don’t work on Christmas day if you can avoid it. If you have to, however, don’t make a song about it. Don’t give Johnnie a trumpet and Peter a whistle and expect to have a quiet time. It’s unreasonable. , Don’t put olttbuying presents until the last minute. You’ll get better value and avoid the crush If you shop early. Don’t send an electric runabout to a freezing widow with five starving chil dren. This is like throwing a rope of pearls to a drowning man. Don’t look pained when somebody tells a fifty-year-old, Christmas story. -That’s one of the unavoidable circum stances of the festive season. ' / Don’t give a new song to some one who doesn’t sing; but be still more certain that you don’t give a new song to some one who imagines he can sing. Don’t refrain from giving because you can’t afford to -give much. The in-*, trlnsic value of a gift counts for noth ing. It is the thought which prompts It that matters. Don’t Iqt tlie wife give you a Christ mas, present in the form of cigars. If 'she persists in doing so, don’t smoke them—give them away again, without letting her know about It, of course. n m m HP- (Styriatmaa iUana Can? We cannot picture it without seeing the spangled Christmas tree girt with the faces ‘ gleeful youngsters, gfeeknarents, and happybodies return-' ed home fnrni town or far metropolis It sounds lihe bells and crachling logs and shouts of children. And even/our old, round-shouldered, sorro^wrfdden planet. his eye Knoched >ut on his cheeh, pauses to smile from sea to sea, and love is everywhere rejuve nated. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Tasted Buaplclouai “My dear, did you make this Chria mas puddingjrout of the cook book?” “Yea, love.” "I thought I tasted one of the co Y •-C-, ^ - A.jt... * ■A* .. v