A blaring of tin horns, the tinkle
of a toy piano, the hum of a me
chanical train and the thump of
drums speak in unmistakable tones
of the joy that is childhood’s heritage
at Christmas time. It has always been
so, probably it always will be.
Retrospectively older people live
again through the preceeding week—
and what a week it was, jammed full
of shopping tours, crowded street
cars, loads of bundles, broken wrap
ping cords, drizzliifg rains and what
not.
To many, the anticipation will far
surpass the actually. To others
the situation is reversed. Anyway—
Christmas time is here, and what mat
ters wealth, society, or social status
at Christmas time anyway.
Uncle John, Aunt Sue, lister Mary
and the kids will have come to see you.
Haven’t seen them in a whole year
maybe, anyway their being with you
will brighten tho ruddy glow of the
open hearth. How much more cheer
ful the bounteous feast by reason of
their presence.
Firecrackers and bonfires, the new
bicycle or some roller skates. To the
sportsman—an eager dog, the trusty
gun and the elusive call of Bob White
will be irresistible. Tired but happy
they will return at dusk, ready for
the evening feast of turkey, as trad
itional and indispensible at Christmas
as it is at Thanksgiving.
