Indianapolis Times, Volume 47, Number 235, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 December 1935 — Page 15

DEC. 10, 1935_

o fith Ofll JOlif £ove by M*/y Raymond Copyright NEA iojj

BEGIN HERE TODAY After the death of her parent*, lovely Dana Wea'hronk, the child of hty mother'* tecond marriage, comes to America to live with her grandmother. Mrs Wllliard Cameron. Dana s half-sister, Nancy Wallace, feels bitter toward her Mrs. Cameron dfcides to Introduce Dana to :he social set at a party, hoping rich Hon.ild Moor* will become seriously Interested. Dana meanwhile, has met. and become attracted to young Dr. Scott Stanley, who 1* poor Nancy, who masks her love' for rtonsld behind an antagonistic attitude, dresses happily for the party. Her happiness fades when she sees Dana, radiant and beautiful. In a twin froek. Dana, alone on the porch while Ronald goes '0 bring hiT a glass of punch, hears a whistle from the 'garden. She goes there and finds Scott Stanley. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER - NINE SCOTT eyed the girl Intently. “I keep telling myself,” he said, "that first impressions aren’t reliable, that you couldn’t be as wonderful as you seemed. I had to find out.” Dana answered coolly. “When you’ve finished your inventofy I think I’d better go back to the house.” He ignored this. "It’s probably the moonlight playing tricks,” he went on. "Or that dress you’re wearing. Even a plain girl would seem beautiful in that dress. Anyhow I don’t dare trust my judgment. I’ll have to see you again—soon.” Dana was amused. "And how many times,” she asked, "will you need to see me before you make up your mind?” "I might suggest most of your evenings—a lot of your afternoons —every Sunday. Or I might ask for all your todays and tomorrows.” Dana’s heart quickened to something in her voice. “Are you trying to make me believe you are in love with me?” "No,” Scott said slowly. "Not yet.” Abruptly he arose from the bench and pulled her into his arms. Their steps fell together easily, rhythmically. “Do you know that tune—‘Living in the Middle of the Moonlight’?” he asked. "Yes.” "But you haven’t ever danced in the middle of it before?” "No.” “You haven’t danced like this before?” Scott urged, drawing her closer. Dana broke from his arms, "Good night,” she said. "I don’t know what I'm thinking of—” She heard his laugh. As she neared the porch she heard him whistling softly. The sound stopped abruptly and Dana realized he had jumped over the garden wall. She hoped her grandmother hadn’t noticed her absence from the ballroom. With all that crow'd dancing it wasn’t likely. a tt a BUT Dana was wrong. A short time before Mrs. Cameron had motioned to Nancy. "Dana’s not on the floor,” Mrs. Cameron said in a low voice. "Find her. In my day, ’twasn’t considered proper to desert guests and sit out in dark corners with young men.” "Here comes my perennial partner,” Nancy said. "Amuse Tommy for me and I’ll see if I can lure Dana into the light.” She went into the hall. There was another door leading to the side veranda and this way she would avoid the curious-eyed and also the danger of having someone, like Tommy, tag on. Nancy suspected Dana with sitting out with Ronnie, and had no pleasure in her mission. "Just like Gran to pick me for a job like this,” Nancy thought gloomily. But the darkened veranda was deserted. Nancy stood for a moment close to the vines, which were stirred by the cool night wind. She turned, startled. Ronnie was coming toward her, holding a glass in his hand. "That gang in there would turn Niagara into a Sahara desert,” he complained. "Thought I’d never get through to the punch bowl.” The girl in the shadows did not reply. Itonnic placed his glass on the bannister railing. “It was because I wanted to get out here with you, that made me so impatient. . . . I’m out of my head about you.” His voice shook with emotion, as he took Nancy in his arms and kissed her. The next moment Nancy’s voice, choked with feeling, fell on Ronnie’s amazed ears. "I suppose you go around kissing all the girls you know, Ronnie. But even at that, I’m surprised you picked on me.” "Nancy, honestly, I’m sorry,” Ronnie said. His amazement was genuine. T didn’t know—” ”So you didn’t know you were kissing me?” Nancy asked. "Great heavens, no! You don’t think I would—well, out of a clear sky like that—” Nancy said in a queer tone. "You thought I was—some one else.” Ronnie replied, miserably. "I didn’t know you were out here. Anyway, I guess I’ve had too much. That punch is plenty spiked. And I’ve had a couple of drinks on the side.” "I suppose you want me to think you're plastered, Ronnie. It isn’t necessary to apologize. The incident is forgotten. So far as I’m concerned, it never happened. My memory is likely to be awfully short where a kiss of yours is concerned." "Oh, is it?” said Ronnie, nettled by the stinging tone. "Very well, I won’t lose any sleep. I was feeling abject and all that, but if that’s how you feel, well wipe the whole thing out.” "Like this,” Nancy said. Her eyes blazed fiercely at him. She rubbed her lips vigorously with a wisp of dainty handkerchief. And then was gone. tt a tt RONNIE did not follow. He was very much disturbed. It was bad enough to kiss another girl, when he had believed, for one ecstatic moment, that Dana was in his arms, responding to his kiss. But it was infinitely worse that the other girl had been Nancy. What a little vixen she was! There wasn't a doubt that she had been angry. Her voice had cut him like a lash. Her black eyes had burnt him with contempt. "Gosh, what a shrewish young thing Nancy’s turning out to be.” Ronnie thought uncomfortably. Ail at once he was angry with Dana. If Dana had been here where he had left her, he wouldn't have kissed Nancy. Where in the devil was Dana? And then Ronnie saw the flutter of a white dress in the shadows of the old garden. Dana came up the steps, breathless from running. "Ronnla, what must you think of me?” "Where in the world have you been?” Ronnie demanded.

"In the garden,” Dana said. “It's gorgeous out there in the moonlight.” “What's the good of moonlight, alone?” Ronnie protested. "Let's see it together.” "Not tonight.” Dana shook her head. "I must be getting back. People will be missing us.” Mrs. Cameron saw Dana and Ronnie dancing together, and relaxed in her chair. Girls would be modern. These ways were not the ways she had known. In her day a girl would never be so bold, openly courting the favor of a young man by leaving the dance floor with him and seeking secluded corners. Nobody seemed to think anything of it now. There were Cynthia Baxter and Bill Lorimcr going out on the front porch now. And Harriet Prescott and Dick Webster just coming in, with Harriet’s blond hair looking as if she’d met a small cyclone. Besides, Dana was sensible, and knew what she was doing. She’d been here only a few weeks and already had the town catch at her heels. Mrs. Cameron complacently watched her granddaughter's lovely face and graceful form. Dana had eagerness, with a certain indifference to attention which was probably one of her chief charms. Nancy, on the other hand, was all indifference. Which, of course, got a girl nowhere. And, where' was Nancy, now? Only one person had seen Nancy come through the side door— Tommy, who had slipped old Mrs. Cameron’s conversational leash and stationed himself at a vantage point. "Say. Nancy,” Tommy's voice halted her. "Go ’way, Tommy,” Nancy spoke like a petulant little girl, addressing a bothersome little boy. She was up the stairs in a flurry of white ruffles. u an NANCY went straight to her room. Something had happened. Something disastrous, terrible, overwhelming. No longer could she fight the truth with contemptuous words. She was in love with Ronnie, and might as well admit it to herself. Tire revelation had come with his kiss. The kiss Ronnie was so ashamed of. Tire kiss he had meant for Dana. She flung herself down on her bed, spoiling the perfection of the tufted spread which had been drawn into place so carefully by Sarah’s expert hands. The crisp place under her face was soon damp with tears. She thought of the crumpled loveliness of her gown with poignant bitterness. What did it matter? The dress had done nothing for her, except to reveal even more clearly the difference between her sister and herself. Nancy sat up suddenly, ashamed of her emotional upheaval. If she stayed away, Gran would be sending Dana scouting around for her. Nothing could be so hateful or humiliating as having Dana find her crying. Perhaps Ronnie wmuld wonder and suspect the truth. Which would be the worst thing that could happen. "I’d die before I’d let him know,” Nancy thought wildly. "If I get a chance I’ll make him believe I think it was all a joke.” She went to a mirror and began to repair the damage to her face. Smoothing on powder, adding a little more rouge, applying lipstick heavily. Her eyes were shining with excitement when she entered the ballroom. When she passed Ronnie she smiled brilliantly at him. Ronnie promptly cut in. “You’re a brick, Nancy,” he whispered. “I was worried.” “About what?” Nancy asked nonchalantly. "About—about what happened a while ago.” “I’d forgotten anything happened,” Nancy replied carelessly. "Things like that—you couldn’t expect a girl to be really angry.” “I’m glad of that,” Ronnie said. And then realized he wasn’t. "I have it all figured out,” Nancy said with a gay laugh. Too gay, if Ronnie had noticed. “You thought I was Dana. Our dresses are twin models. But really we are not a bit alike.” "No,” said Ronnie, "I don’t believe you are.” Someone claimed her and Ronnie gave her up with a feeling of relief. Nancy, he decided, was just one of those girls. Raising hell when they were kissed. Perhaps trying to force a man to say something committing himself. And when the trick failed, they forgot all about it. He was disappointed. Whatever else he had failed to think of Nancy, he had always considered her a straight shooter. Completely sincere. It all went to prove you couldn’t tell a dam thing about a girl. Not a dam thing! (To Be Continued) SNUFF TAKING IS BECOMING VOGUE An executive of London’s largest department store declares that the practice of taking snuff is becoming the vogue among men prominent on the stage and screen and other phases of public life. In anticipation of a popular revival of the ancient custom, this store is now offering more than 30 different kinds of snuff, and has on display a valuable collection of old snuff boxes.

Daily Recipe COCONUT CONFECTION 2 oranges (rind and juice) 2 cups sugar 1-2 teaspoon salt 1-2 cup light corn syrup 4 cups shredded coconut 1-2 cup pecan meats (broken) Squeeze juice from oranges. Cook rind in water to more than cover until tender, changing the water twice. Drain. Cut rind in tiny shreds. Add sugar, salt, syrup and orange juice and cook until a few drops of syrup form a soft ball in cold water *236 degrees F.). Add coconut and nut meats and cook a few seconds longer. Drop from teaspoon onto an oiled platter or slab to cool.

Plaid Flannel Linings Popular

BY GERTRUDE BAILEY PLAID flannel linings, closely woven, are being buttoned into classic sport coats of handwoven Harris tweed to make them extra warm for winter weather. In the hands of an expert tailor the innovation is sleek rather than clumsy. He uses a Celane.se fabric for the back and shoulders, where wool might \>3 irritating, then tailors the flannel from the waist down to the exact cut of the topcoat. The sweeping lines so inherent in the smartness of a classic are not interrupted, yet the extra warmth is there—not piled on top but hidden underneath. It is nice to know that you can buy the lining separately and button it into your topcoat if you have one. Or you can choose from the hand-woven Harris tweeds, the tops in topcoat fabrics, a district check or a monotone in the popular gray or deep brown shades, with the extra lining buttoned in. tt tt t 1 THERE are different patterns and colors in the linings to blend with the tweed of the topcoat. The style sketched is the Wellesley, cut to college girl’s specifications, with narrow lapels and raglan shoulders and welted seams achieving simple classic lines. The Balmacaan is another favorite and differs from the Wellesley in that it has a round high collar instead of lapels. We must tell you, too, of the hand-loomed scarfs that we saw. They are one of a kind, woven in two colors —the blue green in a knockout—to achieve color vibration, what you want to get into your sports costume this season. Chenille, part cotton and part wool, has been woven by hand into scarfs for those who are irritated by all wool.

Hitch-Hiking Germs Travel on Room Dust Germs use invisible dust particles as airplanes in traveling about a room, the American Institute of Sanitation has decided after tests to determine relation of dust to spread of germs. Particles of dust were counted by exposing moist glass to the air and then examining it under the microscope. Bacteria were counted by exposing a glass dish covered with a film of agar-agar to the air for two minutes. Bacteria colonies were developed by incubation for 24 hours at a temperature *of 98 degrees, at the end of which time each germ had developed into a colony large enough to be seen with the naked eye. “Increasing the amount of dust particles in a room by sweeping with a broom or swishing the furniture with a feather duster, brought about corresponding increase in the number of bacteria colonies which developed about the bits of dust on the test dishes. This indicates,” says the institute, "that although germs are unable to fly of themselves, they do attach themselves to miscroscopic dust particles and thus are able to travel immense distances in relation to their size. A genn that hitch-hikes 10 feet is equivalent to a man flying across the Atlantic. "Reduction of dust both in the air and on exposed surfaces of a room is a sanitary precaution that should rank with washing one’s hands or brushing one’s teeth,” comments the institute. “Unfortunately ordinary dust and germs are invisible. In cleaning the home the broom and the duster Should be used sparingly. Cleaning water should contain a disinfectant to combat germ life. In fact, the duster should be thrown away and a damp cloth wrung out from a germicidal solution should take its place.”

This Black Lace for Dinner Dress

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

WL. 1 :^f

News of P.-T. A. Groups

School 2. 2:30 tomorrow. Mrs. Curtis Hodges speaker; Christmas music by pupils. School 14. 3:15 tomorrow. Christmas program by Mothers’ Chorus and pupils. School 15. 3:15 tomorrow. Ray D. Everson, “Mother’s Apron Strings.” Music by Technical High School Girls’ Glee Club. School 16. 3:15 tomorrow. Mrs. Lelia Harrington, Christmas story. Selections by primary room. Carols by Mothers’ Chorus. Puppet show,

BY ELLEN WORTH A stunning dress of new looking black lace. It has a scarlet-red moire belt and buttons. It’s so young and graceful. Wear it for cocktail parties, dinner, theater and all the other important occasions. For strictly formal wear, make it with low-cut decollete, and with or without tunic provided for in the pattern of glittering metal cloth. There’s nothing quite so lovely as metal cloth in red, sapphire, steel or green to give you a sheath-like appearance. Another young ;dea for evenings is gleaming satin in offblue with wine velvet girdle. Style No. 599 is designed for sizes 14, 16, 18 years, 36, 38 and 40-inches bust. Size 16 requires 6 yards of 39-inch material with 1 yard of 4inch ribbon. Our fall and winter fashion magazine is just full of smart new clothes, that ean be made easily and inexpensively. Price, 10 cents.

Inclosed find 15 cents for which send me Pattern No. 599. Name Street City. State Size

To obtain a pattern of this model, tear out the coupon and mail it to Ellen Worth, The Indianapolis Times, 214 W. Maryland-st. Indianapolis, with 15 cents in stamps or coin.

“The Night Before Christmas,” by Marion County Recreational Bureau. School 21. 2:30 tomorrow. Dr. E. O. Asher, “Maternal Welfare.” Christmas songs by Mothers’ Chorus. Playlet by pupils. School 22. 3:15 tomorrow. Musical program by Technical High School double string quartet. Social hour. School 20. 3:15 tomorrow. Christmas songs and readings. School 27. 2:30 tomorrow. Mrs. George Arthur Frantz, "The Migration of Peace.” k Playlets, "A Postmaster’s Dream” by fifth grade pupils and "The Story of the Mail” by junior high school dramatic club. Community singing. School 28. 3:15 tomorrow. “Christmas Story in Poetry and Song” by sixth grade pupils. Solo by Betty Morrison. Recitations by Marjorie Applegate. Social hour. School 34. 3 tomorrow. Violin and by Margaret Geckler. Christmas carols by pupils. Christmas party. School 34. 3:15 tomorrow. Mrs. Edward E. Files, reader, "The Triumph of Faith” from the “Sign of the Cross” by Wilson Barrett. Christmas songs by primary pupils. School 37. 3 tomorrow. Mrs. Clayton Ridge, “Character Education.” Mrs. O. A. Johnson, Crispus Attucks High School dean of girls, “Narcotic Education.” Selections by school choir. School 44. 2 tomorrow. The Rev. Ellis Hay, talk. Music by Mothers’ Chorus. Play, “The Masque of Christmas,” by pupils. Christmas party on Dec. 20. School 47. 3:15 tomorrow. Pageant by pupils. Carols by junior high school pupils. Dramatic Club, School 54. 1:30 tomorrow. Play, “The Wrong Baby.” Christmas operetta, Mothers’ Chorus. School 57. 1:30 tomorrow. "Christmas in Other Lands,” other Chnstmas playlets. Music by pupils. School 61. 2:30 tomorrow. Games and gift exchange. Music by Mothers’ Chorus.

Don’t Fill Your System With Drugs for Headaches IT MAY BE YOLR EYES When you have headaches. Before you begin taking a lot of headache medicine . . . have your eyes examined. In 7 out of 10 cases these headaches are caused by ■m I glasses will not only eliminate the L ——————————i eyestrain but will also make the dizzy spells and nervousness, which you also have, completely disappear. Get your eyes examined. Find out exactly their condition. Dr. J. E. KERNEL ° optical co. BY APPOINTMENT 104 North Illinois Ho Extra Charge Ground Floor Traction Terminal Bldz. -

No Need to Feel Inferior Because Boy Asks Return of His Ring, Jordan Says Girl, 17, Probably Well Out of Match, Jane Avers, Saying That His Mother Might Be Hard to Deal With After Marriage. Put your problems before Jane Jordan who will help you aolve them by her answers in this column. Dear Jane Jordan—l have fallen in love with a boy of 20. I am 17 He had a grand job and was making good money. We made plans to be married in the spring with the consent of both our parents. He was working in a small town not far from my home. His real home was in North Chicago. Not long ago he was called home on account of his mother’s illness. She was not seriously ill. but his folks wanted him to stay home and find work there. He did find a job and made good. I missed him terribly even though we wrote every other day. I didn't see him for two months. Then three weeks ago he came down for the week-

end. He seemed the same and we talked over our wedding plans. A week after he went home I received a letter from him wanting to break our engagement. He gave me no reason and asked for his ring back. I have not answered his letter. Should I? If I should, what should I say? Shall I send his ring back? Your advice will be greatly appreciated. DISAPPOINTED IN LOVE. Answer—You have no choice but to return his ring and wish him well. It is not necessary for you to say anything. There is no cause for you to feel inferior because you have been turned down. In my opinion you are well out of the match. I do not like the sound of what you have told me about his mother. When a woman gets sick in order to bring her son back inlo the family, we have reason to suspect

that she would be a difficult mother-in-law who might prevent the success of her son’s marriage. It may sound far-fetched to you to accuse this mother of getting sick on purpose. I do not mean that she consciously planned it, but that it was an unconscious move to prevent the loss of her boy. As soon as he returned to the bosom of his family he abandoned his plans to get married. What can one make of this other than that he would rather be a son than a husband, at least for the present? Would you want to marry a man so completely under his mother’s influence? Think it over. May I suggest (hat you do not accuse him of preferring his mother to you? After all he may have another girl in mind. Even so, I believe she will have a serious competitor in his mother. tt a u tt tt $t Dear Jane Jordan—l should like to tell Heartbroken (whose boy friend is hysterical because his parents have forbidden him to see hen that her boy friend must realize the responsibility of living his own life. He must not allow himself to become the victim of people and conditions! I fear that he is allowing his environment to make or mold a weakling out of him and, worst of all, he is burdening his sweetheart with sorrows that he should be capable of handling himself. Chapin has said. "Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and severally tried.” Heartbroken’s youthful friend should rise above the cruelties of a family that does not care. The amazing success of psychologists, mentalists, fortune tellers and other advisers shows that the average person has not tried to overcome the sorrows of life or the tests of the crucible he is thrown into. I believe we must work out our own lives. Out of sorrows, despairs, mistakes and endless heartbreaks come the most beautiful spirits and most courageous lives.—ZO ZO. Answer—Sometimes misfortune uplifts; sometimes it crushes. It depends on the quality of the clay it strikes. Nevertheless, you have given soma very good advice.

Return of Audrey Field Livens New York Society

BY HELEN WORDEN NEW YORK, Dec. 10. —Audrey Coates Field, the vivid, beautiful, English, former wife of Marshall Field, has returned to brighten New York society. Mrs. Field’s rich red Burgundy lace evening gown offered a dramatic foil for her dark hair at the Rainbow Room recently. Ruby clips held her sleekly parted curls in place. Mrs. Field was the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler Williams. The later wore a dramatic, plain black taffeta evening frock. The one touch of color was in the gold leaves which trimmed her little black crepe evening slippers. Even more spectacular than young Mrs. Field is the exotic Princess Brinda of Kapurthala. Mr. and Mrs. George Hunter Fitch entertained her the night she stopped the show at the Rainbow Room. Tall, Stately, Dark She is tall, stately and dark. Her evening gown was a flowing white chiffon robe, heavily embroidered in silver. Six slender, ‘lashing bands of diamonds encircled her left arm. On her right wrist was a single crystal armlet set with a huge emerald. Mrs. Fitch likes pale blue. It was the color she selected for the frock she wore at her supper party. She wore no jewelry. Long, floating panels of the same blue crepe which fashioned her gown hung from the shoulders and were caught in at the back waistline and terminated in bustle bows. Matching slippers of delicate blue crepe carried out the one-color theme. Worth, once the Parisian fashion dictator for American society, still counts. Necks Craned Mrs. William R. K. Taylor Jr., caused a craning of necks in the Caprice Room at the Weylin with

A Day’s Menu Breakfast — Halves of grapefruit, cereal, cream, shirred eggs, crisp oven toast, milk, coffee. Luncheon — Liver and bacon sandwiches, head lettuce with French dressing, fruit tapioca pudding, milk, tea. Dinner — Veal stew with dumplings, cabage and pepper salad, mince pie, milk, coffee.

Jane Jordan

her black crepe de chine gown, cut with the new deep V front neckline and waist-length decolletage at the back. Her hair was combed severely back from smart, little uncurled bangs. Diamond and jade clip earrings added a flash of color. Pure, deep purple, the kind worn by kings and queens, is Aurelie Murchison’s favorite color for an evening gown.

One Routine for Aid to Beauty Found at Home BY ALICIA HART Letters from readers prove that ■every beauty-minded woman has figured out at least one routine that she does at home and which answers some important individual beauty problem. "My finger nails used to split, peel and break and look pretty terrible most of the time,” writes a New York woman. "I started soaking them in olive oil for 10 minutes three times a week, and, within two months, they were healthy and attractive. To make sure that they’ll stay nice, I have continued to treat them with warm oil about once every 10 days. It works.” “For some strange reason, I disliked plain vinegar or lemon rinses,” writes another. "Now, after I have washed my hair, rinsed, washed again and rinsed twice with plain water, I put half a cup of vinegar in two quarts of warm water, add the juice of one fresh lemon, rinse carefully with this solution, then again with plain water. My hair is easier to comb after the shampoo and it seems to stay softer and prettier for a longer length of time.” Still another girl w rote to tell me that she is one who doesn’t care whether lipstick stays on for hours or not. She doesn’t mind putting on a fresh coat every hour or so. Furthermore, her lips are rather dry, so she applies a thin coat of cream before smoothing on lipstick. Naturally, the color doesn’t stay very long, but her lips remain moist. The arrangement satisfactorily solves her problem, anyway.

So’s My Pictiri For A Gift j * * /' Hflv* Your Child’s Pk- > Confidentially,there * tw Token in Ovr Studio something .bout me people like! They . coo tt me! They're going to r & e Ml be tickled to get pictures of 11x14 M If me for Christmas . . . the ones Stzt m that funny man in your studio takes, look as happy as I feel z —r—- —-— when he snaps them! I’ll bet 6 you $ 4 .** ' th ° U * ht _ J 7 . of giving pictures for Christmas! No Appointment Needed t Photograph Studio .. . J /aIhCmJA Third Floor Wt g f f IyWrJL

PAGE 15

Flapper Fanny Says: WEG. U. S. PAT. Off. \ j \; puts • y

After all. a smile is just a flash in the pan.

Keep Sweet Yule Story; Asks Expert BY OLIVE ROBERTS BARTON “We don’t put up stockings,” said a modern mother. "It’s such drivel. Anyway, we have only steam radiators and why manufacture lies about Santa Claus?” One other joined her. but the rest of the crowd declared they had loved to think of those mysterious lumpy stockings on Christmas morning when they were little and they were going right on doing the same thing. When asked what I thought, I suggested that each mother had a right to decide for herself, then added that 1 still believed in Santa, that I can not rid myself of the thought that something mysterious happens to the world on Christmas eve. Don't Spoil Myth I can not prove I am right in urging parents not to spoil the sweet myth of Christmas. I may be all wrong in not suggesting that we celebrate Chnstmas more sanely and purely as a Birth Day, without the materialism of presents or the symbols of heathenism as so many call the holly and mistletoe. Actually, we are too prone to forget the real meaning of Christmas and the tender beginnings of the Christian era. Also too quick to forget good will toward men and kindness to our neighbor. Although it is not always the case, one is likely to discover that the modernist is not only likely to banish St. Nick but the other things too. It is very hard to analyze Santa Claus, to segregate him from all other traditions of Christmas. He belong in folk-lore, however, and most folk-lore has sprung from the needs of a people. Throughout the centuries he has withstood the ineffectual attacks of the practical. Perhaps he was created in the first place to bring the spirit of Christmas a little closer to earth and human understanding. An agent, one might say, to emblemize the day of giving and forgiving. Like the flag that shows us we have a common bond and without which many would cease to think of country as “his” country, his “personal” land. The comparison is not analgous, but it serves to explain an idea. There is a certain united fellowship under Santa Claus, an emotional lodge, so to say. At Christmas time and during its preceding wrecks there is an elevation of spirit. We pretend it is the children, but it is not living children alone who move us to be happy and expectant. It is those pa.<*t youngsters—ourselves—who preserve a memory and still serve it. We romanticists dare not part with Santa, the tree, the presents—although they may exist only in our thoughts/ Besides, I think we need Santa Claus for one grand good explosion of joy once a year. Santa Will Endure That he should be associated with Chr'stmas instead of New Year’s Day or Thanksgiving must have a reason. All Christendom has adopted a camate saint with certain peculiar customs, to color the more abstract generosity. I believe that Santa Claus in red suit or brown, Santa fat or lean—leaving gifts in the children’s sabots or hanging them on a tree—will continue to endure. It is Mars we should destroy, not the bright merry old boy who sings out. (‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

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