Evening Star Newspaper, December 23, 1928, Page 69

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. DECEMBER 23, 1928—PART T. 3 Old Virginia Recipes Reveal Lavish Yuletide Feasts of Long Ago [ BY NANCY FOREMAN MUNCE. HRISTMAS time was a season of sumptuous feasts and gay con- viviality in old Virginia, land of hospitality, where the art of entertaining and the skill of housekeeping reached high perfection. In going over some old books recently, the writer came across a cook book w ten in the hand of a Virginia lady of Iong ago. The volume is a curious mix- ture of household wisdom, homemade medical remedies and famous dishes, which she had seen fit to record. With this book in hand and the thought of approaching Christmas, back from fleet- ing memories and the stories of child- hood came the picture of a gala Christ- snas scene “before the war.” One can almost paint in their imagi- ation the picture of the great dining Tom in a colonial home, and the fes- tive scene which it presented; presided over by the “Missus,” whose gracious- ness and wit were equaled only by her Mmanagerial ability and culinary skill. Before her was spread the grand feast ©f the year, when she put before her family and friends, gathered for this amost important celebration, the be: things that the storerom and Kitchen o©f her establishment could produc One can see in the glowing candl light the soft portraits on the wall, the great sideboard with the decanters of wine, the table covered with snowy damask and age-old silver, surrounded by shining faces, every one dressed in their best; and waited on by ebony blacks, all doing honor to that “Missus” whose imagination had conceived the epast before them. It was the holiday time of the year, #nd these people, whose grandfathers had come to the new country bringing with them the traditional English ap- preciation of good food, had added_to this inheritance the delicacies of the New World, and an appetite whetted b Christmas cheer. The dinner began with a soup, then came the great plat- | ters of game and meats; the golden brown turkey surrounded by its accom- panying quail, an old ham, a haunci of venison, a spiced round of beef, and with them the side dishes of creamed | oysters, candied sweet potatoes, roasted apples, and collards; a great array of sour and sweet pickles, sauces and Jellies, everything that would add flavor mnd zest to each epicurean tid-bit. The host stands with his great icarvers, razor edged, and serves each one until the plate is overflowing. With each course goes its appropriate wine, and then “piling Pelion on Ossa,” comes those things in which the “Missus’ takes the greatest pride, the desserts; tipsy cake and plum pudding, fruit cake and pound cake, each a master- plece, and last the coffee and liquors. The “Missus’'” face is wreathed in smiles, the pleasure and satisfaction ‘written on the faces of her family and guests is the great reward for her efforts. * % kX EHIND this scene one can see the days of preparation in the kitchen out in the yard. That great kitchen with its huge fireplace, brick oven, crane, and many wonderful cooking utensils, shining copper kettles, iron pots, trivets, spits and gadgets whose names are lost to my memory; presided over by “Aunt America,” shining black, and 200 pounds of capable womanhood; and her assistants, who turn the spits, bring her water, tend her fire, ‘and are at her every beck and call. It was to “Aunt America” that the orders were given, and it was “Aunt America,” following the “Missus’” instru drom those carefully recorded recipes, | compounded the wonderful viands, which make the mouth water even in memory. It intrigues the imagination to read the recipes calling for prodigious amounts of what would be today almost priceless ingredients, but then they were home produced, and were used with a reckless prodigality by those who did not have to count the cost, as the housekeepers of today necessarily must. Imagine the present-day house- keeper when she wanted to make soup- stock, buying two whole shins and 15 | pared or 20 pounds of other beef. My cook- book records the way to make soup- stock as follows: “Early in the morning put two shins @nd fifteen or twenty pounds of coarse beef in eight gallons of cold water. Boil eight or ten hours, keeping it covered all the time. Carefully skim off all the grease. Put in two onions, pliced, a handful of celery, six turnips, icut up, four pods of red pepper, half an ounce each of cloves and mace, a | tablespoonful of black pepper, garden herbs, such as savory, Winter and Sum- mer, thyme and marjoram, a table- spoonful of each powdered; and six slices of lean him. From eight, this stock should be boiled down to four gallons. ‘When properly boiled strain it through flannel three or four double, and when «cold it will be a fine jelly, and will keep in Winter a fortnight, in Summer on ice, four or five days. For a tureen of the soup take two quarts of the jelly, adding any additional seasoning that our taste suggests. Always remember, ;mwever, that it is better to put rather too little than too much, because a deficlency may be supplemented by the castors at the table, but no skill can mtone for carelessly ovefturning either the salt cellar or pepper cruett into the soup. As soon as the soup stock boils send it to the table. Stock should be | We think of ice as a modern conven- ience, but most of the old country places had ice houses in the yard, and in the Winter enough ice was cut and put| away for use during the Summer, so that the ice house was the forerunner of the modern refrigerator. * k ¥ x T takes an old-time kitchen like “Aunt America’s,” with assistants to turn the spits, to be able to roast a turkey before the fire and baste it with melted butter, but “Aunt America” pre- her turkey in just this manner. “A hen turkey, weighing from 6 to 7 pounds, furnishes the sweetest and most savory meat, and yet for festive occa- sions, where a large company is to be served, great one-year-old gobblers, weighing from 12 up to even 20 pounds, are yet .demand. After Christmas hen furke§, if fat, are in all cases pref- erable. If you must cook & large turkey gobbler, parboil it gently for about an hour, to remove the strong flavor of the fat, before proceeding regularly to stuff and roast. “For stuffing, prepare bread in quan- tity proportioned to the size of the fowl. A 12-pound turkey will require a quart loaf to stuff it properly; a small hen, only half as much. Break up the bread between your hands, mixing well with it a tablespoonful of butter and seasoning of black pepper, salt, and either a head of celery chopped up or a teaspoonful of bruised celery seed; make the stuffing hold together with a little hot water, or the yolk of an egg and water; stuff the turkey as full as pos- sible; upon a spit, within a tin kitchen, set it down at a good distance from the fire, which should be clear and brisk; dust the turkey well with flour and baste it with cold butter and a serve it up with its own gravy, which must, however, be put into a separate without any salt, as that spoils he cclor.” little lard, several times. When done, | to dish, or rather gravy boat. “For roasting a turkey the time to be allowed is 20 minutes for each pound, and one 20 minutes extra, The fire must be strong and steady throughout the process. The turkey should be nicely cleaned and stuffed; then put into a baking pan, supported on trans- verse strips of wood or iron, so as to keep the fowl out of the drippings. No water need be added if the bird be moderately fat. Baste repeatedly, that is to say, put butter over the breast and legs from time to time, and, dipping up some of the drippings from the pan, pour it over, so that the whole fowl shall be moistened with them. The seasoning of the stuffing and gravy may be altered, for variety’s” sake, from celery and pepper to oysters and pepper, or oysters, celery and pepper; onions and sage, or savory and thyme. “There is great art in the preparation of gravies, a greasy, oily gfavy spoiling the best cooked fowl or joint. Remove the turkey from the pan; sl off every particle of grease and leave just as much of the drippings as you think will be sufficient to fill your gravy boat; add to them a little boiling water and SHo o Uy eEeRoc L R browned flour, made previously into a paste with the smallest quantity of cold water; let the gravy come to a boil as you stir it constantly and it will be ready to serve. If you choose, you can chop the liver and gizzard into rather small pieces and add them to the gravy, instead of sending them in whole upon the same dish as the turkey,” * Kk ok INIA'S plethora of game was usually represented on the table by venison, and it was considered one of the tests of culinary ability to properly cook venison, ‘u-t as in Maryland it was considered the height of culinary skill be able to prepare diamond-back terrapin. “Aunt America” cooked the venison as follows: “Making a seasoning with salt and pepver, nutmeg and pounded cloves, lard the venison with fine bacon, and then season it very well in every part with this seasoning. Put into.a dish a quart of white wine and a pint of vine- gar, add some salt, half a dozen bay leaves and a stick of broken cinnamon. Stir all this well together, and then lay in the larded venison. Turn it once in half an hour, and from time to time pour some of the liquor upon the upper side of it with a spoon. When it has been four hours soaking lay it down to roast. Let it be at a moderate dis- tance from the fire, and let it be well done, basting it all the time with the liquor. When the venison is enough done strain the drippings out of the pan and add to it some rich soup stock, or if that be not in readiness add some very strong gravy and thicken it up with flour and butter. When it is ready to serve up squeeze in a quarter of a lemon and add a cupful of capers, minced, and some black pepper. This sauce being ready, lay the venison handsomely in a dish and pour the sauce upon it. When thus managed it is moist, rich and excellently flavored.” The Virginians, being English, in- herited the English love of pork, and their skill in the curing and preparing of it. The Virginia razor-backs were famous, and no dinner was complete without the baked old ham. The cook- ing was as great an art as the curing, 80 carefully written out are these in- structions: “If it is an old ham, let it soak overnight. Put it in a large pot of cold water and boil it slowly, gently, for five, six, seven or even eight hours; if uncommonly large, the longer the better. Keep plenty of water in the pot all the time, being sure to let what you add, however, be always boil- ing hot. The choicest do not weigh over 12 or 15 pounds. Larger ones are apt to be coarse and not so finely flavored. The ham is done when the shank bone comes loose. ‘Then skin the ham, cover it with bread crumbs, sprinkle with sugar and bake till brown.” In many homes even today the Christmas table is not complete with- out the spiced round of beef, and “Aunt America” prepared her spiced round of beef in this way: “Take a large round of beef weigh- ing from 20 to 25 pounds, take three ounces of saltpeter and after beating it up very fine in‘a muslin rag rub it well into the round, let it stand thus for two days. Then take one quart of salt, two nutmegs grated, with one ounce of cloves and half an ounce of mace pounded up fine, and rub the meat Well with it, and put it in a tub provided with a close cover. Take out the bone that runs through the round and fill the cavity thus formed with the salt and saltpeter. Rub the round well with the spices, etc., every day for two weeks or longer, if you do not wish to cook it at the end of that time. ‘When ready to bring it to the table wash the beef off, fill the hole where the bone was with a piece of suet. Lay the round on a board, take a tape or piece of strong twine and bind it to keep it round and compact; then put it in an oven that just fits it. Strew some suet over the top, pour over a pint and a half of water; then make a paste out of a quart of flour and cold water, nothing else; roll it out and make it fit over the beef. Then place a thick sheet of paper over that and set it to bake. Allow five hours at least for the baking, and do not remove the top crust until next day, when it is perfectly cold.” * ok ok K As no dinner was considered complete without a representative of the sea, oysters, Lynnhavens preferably, were considered a most necessary part of the meal. They were always shippod in the shell and opened just before using. There were many ways of pre- paring them, but the one most gen- erally used for dinner along with other meats was creamed oysters. Aunt America’s way of preparing them was as follows: “Five hundred of the largest and finest oysters; lift them out of the liquor one at a \ime; lay them in a deep pan; strain the liquor and boil one-half of it. Have ready three- quarters of a pound of the best butter, divided into lumps and each slightly rolled in a little flour, which add to the boiling liquor, and when they are melted stir the whole well and put in the oysters. As soon as they come to a boil take them out. Then add three pints of cream very gradually to the liquor, stirring all the time, and give it another boil, seasoning it with celery salt and pepper or nutmeg. When done the dressing is falrly thick. After it has again boiled return the oysters to it and simmer them a few minutes— just long enough to heat them. One of the daintiest ways in which oysters can be served on special occasions.” As desserts were the test of the “Mis- sus'” skill and represented the cap-a- pie of the dinner, the tipsy cake almost exceeds my imagination. For the cus- tard alone 20 eggs were used. But you had best read it for yourself. Here is the “Missus’ " pride: “Make a sponge cake, the weight of a dozen eggs in sugar, half their weight in flour, a little salt and the grated rind and juice of a lemon, to senon. Have ready a gallon of custard, /ive eggs to each quart of milk, a pound = sugar to a gallon, flavored with lemon ur vanilla. Blanche a pound of almonds, fill the cake with these after having it, round, through.” Saturate it with wine and put it together with jelly (if you fancy it). Then place the cake in a large deep dish and pour over it the custard, covering the whole with ‘sylla- bub,’ . made of fresh rich cream, loaf or crushed sugar and good wine, whipped to a stiff froth.” Then the plum pudding, garnished first cut | ligh Rare Old Cook Book of Virginia Housewife “Before the War™ Bares Secrets of Preparing Old-Time Culinary Master- pieces for Which the State Was Famous—Christmas Dinner of Former Days Was the Feast of the Year. with holly. And what a spectacle it was, for just before it was brought to the table a glass of spirits was poured over it and touched off, so that when it came into the dining room it was ablaze and filled the room with the aroma of fine brandy burning. This recipe was brought from England and was handed down from mother to daughter, a family heirloom. . * k% % ORDDIARY plum pudding is heavy and indigestible, but made by the following recipe it has been known to agree with dyspeptics, who as a general thing do not indulge in dessert. All of the ingredients should be gotten to- gether the day before the pudding is to be cooked, to prevent delay and con- fusion. Four hours should suffice for the making and boiling. We give the quantity sufficient for a large dinner party, because whatever is left may be set away and enjoyed even more on the second than the first day. Prepare raisins enough, of good qual- ity, to fill a quart measure after the stems and seeds are removed; wash and dry a pint of dried currants, cut up a pint of citron into small bits; peel, core and also chop into small bits a pint of apples (pippins are best) and a light quart of beef suet that must be per- fectly fresh; crumble up a full quart of nice, stale light bread and mix all the above-named articles together upon a dish, grating into them half a nutmeg and sprinkling over a teaspoonful of salt. Now break eight eggs into a large tray or bowl and beat them until very t, adding a half pint of sugar, a half pint of milk and one gill of wine or brandy. When you have sifted a a:m of flour take from it enough to ur well the fruit that it may not fall to the bottom, just as is done in fruit - . Now -add to the eggs the fruit, suet and bread crumbs, stirring in just enough flour to make the whole stick together. This ought not to take more than the quart provided. Have ready a stout cotton cloth or bag, scald it in boiling water and dust flour over the inside until a thin coating is formed; put the pudding in and tie up_tightly, after leaving ample room for it to swell; put it in a pot of boil- ing water to boll steadily for three hours. The dangers to be avoided are letting the pudding stick to the bot- tom of the pot, which may be prevent- ed by reversing a plate and laying it beneath, and, worse still, letting the string or bag give way so that water is_admitted. = See that both bag and string are strong. Following an English custom as old as the days of King Arthur, it has al- ways been usual in Virginia at Christ- mas to send in the plum pudding to the table aglow in alcoholic flames. This is done by pouring over it half a gill of pure alcohol or brandy and putting a lighted match to it just as the waiter bears it into the dining room. Sauce for this pudding is made of one cup of butter, two cups sugar, half a cup of cream (well beatens, half a glass randy or whisky and two tea- spoonfuls of vanilla and a little mus- meg. Cream butter and add sugar gradually. Add cream, then vanilla, then the wine slowly. When all is beaten smooth, place the bowl in a basin of hot water. Stir until the sauce is smooth and no longer. Fruit cakes were made usually one year for the next, and put away to mellow. No one ever thought of serving a freshly made fruit cake, so that the fruit cake making was an annual rite, attended with much ceremony, and the results were truly worthy of the effort and care which was attendant to their making. The pound cakes were made Just before they were to be used. “Aunt America’s” were made as follows: » Rk “FOR elegant black fruit cake, take two pounds of raisins, two pounds of currants, one pound of citron, one pound of almonds, one pound of sugar, one pound of butter, one pound of flour, one dozen eggs, a tablespoonful of mace, a tablespoonful of cinnamon, two nut- megs, one teacupful of wine and brandy mixed; cut up the raisins and citron, roll them in flour to separate, beat the fruit into the eggs, after they have been whisked perfectly light; also the butter and sugar, after they have been creamed together; let the flour Le lightly stirred in just before putting the cake into the oven. Put embers under the oven, and let it rise three hours; bake slowly then for three hours or more, or until, by trying it with a straw, you find that none of the batter adheres to it; then draw the oven away from the fire, and let the cake soak at least two hours. If it is very large it will be better to leave it in the chimney corner all night. Do not cut the almonds more than three times at most, and reserve a por- tion of the citron to be sliced and stuck in the cake after it is put in the oven, In sticking it in let the pleces go down out of sight in the dough or they will be thrown out in the rising of the cake. For white fruit cake, take one pound of butter, one pound of flour, one pound and a quarter of sugar, one dozen eggs, three pounds of citron chopped fine, two small coconuts, peeled and grated: two pounds of almonds (weighed before shelling), blanched and pounded; one Wineglass of brandy, one of wine, three nfuls of cinnamon, two table- spoonfuls of mace (measured before they are ground), and one nutmeg.” For pound cake beat the yolks and whites of 12 eggs separately; have ready weighed and sifted 1 pound of finest flour and 1 pound of sugar; cream 1 pound of butter after you have washed from it all the salt; now put this creamed butter into a large bowl or tray and beat into it alter- are used up. Use 1 the froth of the whites ofpegls: uo:;:lg- clear settles in the botom of the dish either whip it up again or leave it out if there is but little of it. Flavor with grated lemon peel and some nutmeg or a teaspoonful of mace ground fine. Line the bottom of your mold with thin brown paper, greased.” The years roll by, the kitchen in the yard with its roaring fireplace, “Aunt America” and her dusky assistants have gone; the Civil War came with its up-. set, and today there is little left but tradition and the cookbook. Yet, as one turns the leaves of the old book in which are recorded these culinary masterpieces, one. cannot help but ap- preciate the sentiments which are so aptly recorded in a little anonymous l\;eie;':e srent me lgdn m;nd as a frontis- e for an e my greatly valued “Just an old-fashioned _cookbook, but how it can thrill me with recipes, m.l%e‘kol then:’ starting like this— e one dozen e; and a pound of fresh Wfifigfl"!, Add one pint of cream and some sugar and spice.” Oh, it quickens my pulse and it makes my heart flutter— ‘Today no romance has a sequel so I have shuddered with Poe, I have chuckled with Dickens, I have wept with De Morgan and laughed with Bill Nye; But this t:llle of baked hnmakmd of smothered spring chickens Brings a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye, When I turn the thumbed leaves of the old-fashioned cookbook With its reckless romance of days long gone by! Santa of the Stores Occupies a Throne in Minds of Admirers BY MYRTA ETHEL CAWOOD. M going to be there in the morn- [ ing and I want you—every one of you—to be there to see me and my real live reindeer.” It was Santa Claus talking to the children of Washington over the radio. 1 listened as eagerly as a child. “There.” ‘Where? Oh, yes, Santa was coming to one of the great department stores here in Washington. He’s going to be there in the morning. How the thought thrilled me. I, too, would be “there” in the morning to see Santa and his real live reindeer. How good to know that the dear old saint still lived, for of late years a great fear had crept into our hearts—the fear of no Santa. New York people say they have out- grown Santa, the city has become too sophisticated—too cosmopolitan. They are seeking new ideas. Their newest stunt is to have Santa’s son take his place. As if the children—and we, the old-fashioned ones—could ever tolerate g substitute. Not here in Washington. But would the children be “there” to see Santa, I wondered, on my way down to the store next morning. They were there! Hundreds and hun- dreds of them, eager-eyed, rushing to get thelr first glimpse of the jolly old | man. Children by twos, and threes, and dozens—little wee ones, fat one Yosy ones, and even some tall, grown-up They forgot the toys—the rein- r—everything, except Santa. They #rowded about him unrestrained and their little clamoring voices filled the whole store. “X want a dolly! I want a sled! I sant an airplane! Did you get my name . . . did you get Billy’s name, and Bobby's name? Iwantaa . ..” “One at a time, one at a time!” shouted Santa. “Stand in line and wait your turn!” some one shouted. The children stood in line—if it wasn't a line it was the best the ex- cited little dears could do. So they waited turns to talk to Santa. A little girl came first. Santa took her hand and asked her what she wanted. “A dolly baby with curls,” she said. Her Ve " asked Santa. toys. “What toys?” insisted Santa. “Can’t ]:.mendk of {t n:lw." her little brow puckered perplexedly. “Oh, yes, a dolly baby with curls,” she smiled. “All right, I'll come to your house and bring the dolly baby right down the chimney,” promised*Santa. “I haven't any chimmey, but my mamma will leave the window open for you,” the little tot explained. Then came a little boy named Billy. “Hello, Billy! Where do you live?” asked Santa. “Home,” was the enlightening reply. “Where's home?” persisted Santa, “Our house.” “Where's that?” “Where my mamma lives,” Billy pa- tiently explained. But Billy of the indefinite address, had some very definite wants. “T want a scooter, Santa, and a real live dog,” he confided. “Whoop-ee,” shouted a little colored girl who had just that moment entered Toyland's gates. “Mama, Mama, there’s Santa,” she | cried, as ‘she pulled away from her mother’s restraining hand and rushed up to Santa. “I want a sleepy dolly,” she pleaded. Santa promised her a sleepy dolly. ‘Then he turned to the little tot beside him—the little girl with yellow curls. She was so sweet he cuddled her up on { his lap. : “Where dou you live?” asked Santa. “‘Way off,” she answered. . ‘What do you want Santa Claus to ! bring you Christmas?” he asked. | “Scme toys, and a steam shovel,” she | hastily replied. ! “All right,” promised the astonished | santa, “I'll be at your house the night | before Christmas and I'll come down the chimney.” “You'll get stuck, but daddyll pull you out,” she answered gayly. * ok ok X H THE children kept coming, an endless | procession, all morning. Then we | heard the beautiful chimes of the | Epiphany ring out on the clear Decem- ber air. Santa bowed his head as he softly followed the hymn. “Si-i-lent night, ho-o-ly night,” His arms tight- ened around the little child in his arms. It was like a benediction. “Those chimes, they almost talk,” Santa said when the clear, sweet tones had faded away, He leaned back on his throne to rest a bit—but there was no rest for him this day. A colored woman took ad- vantage of the slight pause to approach Santa. He shook hands with her. “Howdy, Santa, I brought my hus- band to see you,” she explained, “Eicky, come and shake hands with Santy.” “Eicky grinningly came forward and extended his hand to be shaken by Santa. “Yeh, Santy, I's give Eicky, here, a Christmas tree evéry Christmas since I got him, and we've been married 13 years. We keeps all them shiny balls and dolls and toys and thing-a-ma-jigs from one Christmas to a tother. This year I's needs a sheeps for my Eicky. We got horses, cows, birds, hippos, and cemels, but we ain’t never had no sheeps,” she explained. “Well Eicky, I hope you get your sheep,” the jolly old saint replied. “You bet he'll get that sheeps. I done had um lay it away for me down at the ten-cent store,” she informed Santa. Then, smiling happily, she took her Eicky’s hand and led away. Yes there is a Santa Claus. Many mtpy children worshiped at his shrine ay. How many? That I do not know. But during the day Santa and his helpers presented 4,000 books to the children who visited him that one day. Long shadows were creeping over the city when at last I left a very tired Santa Claus sitting on his throne with his real live reindeer munching hay- nearby. Early next morning I continued my pllgrimage, determined to pay court to each jolly Saint Nick in the Toylands of the Washington Department stores. The next Santa I found was a merry old gentleman. He said he was 83 years old. As I came in he was singing a song—a song about “being good and Much Sought for Evening Parties. clapping our hands just so.” The chil- dren were delighted. “Your voice is lovely, Santa,” I said. “It's not what it was . . . not what it was,” he answered. “I sang the captain’s role in that grand old opera, ‘Pinafore,” for 5,400 nights in the Standard Theater in New York City. ‘The captain of the original company took sick on the way over here from England. They advertised for a bari- tone—out of 500 applicants I was chosen for the part. That was 'way back in 1879. I like to sing. But the audience I love Best is little children. I had 16 of my own.” “The song you sang just now was new to me,” I said. “That is a little song we used to sing in Germany 75 years ago. I was a lit- tle shaver then, but I remember it well.” He grew reminiscent. I sat at Santa's feet and walted for smfiemgm to happen. Seventy-three school children trooped in. They lined up, recited a little poem | for Santa and sang him a song. Then they marched around and shook his hand. These children were trained for their act and they did it well. “I liked that,” the singing Santa turned to me and smiled. And so did I. ‘When the school children had march- ed out a little bob-haired girl about 9 approached Santa. “I want a butterfly-skirt and a lip- stick,” she begged shyly, yet unafraid, Santa shook his head sadly. “That's too deep for me. I don't make them at the North Pole. But I'll call in*the fashion department and see what can be done,” he promised. The little flapperette went away satis- fled that her unusual request would be granted. An aggressive, long-trousered gentle- v man, aged 4, announced himself as “Herby.” “Where do you live, Herby?” asked Santa. nta. “Live in Washington,” he promptly replied with true civic pride, “and I want a pair of rubber boots,” he added. “All right, we'll see about it. Herby, been a good hoy?” Santa inquired. “Don’t know about that,” Herby can- didly confessed. * koK K WHXLE I was meditating over Herby’s moral indifference I heard Santa say to the little girl in his lap. “Where do you live, Mary Lee?” “Down Southeast, or some place,” she replied. “‘Are you a good little girl?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” she promptly replied. “Do you say your prayers?” “Yes, sir,” “Say your prayers this morning?” Santa chuckled. Ah, he thought he had caught her. “Yes, sir,” she persisted. “What did you say in your prayers this morning?” he questioned. She slid down off his knee and began singing in a clear, trembly little voice: “God bless my mamma and my papa, too. Make them love each other, always kind and true, Keep them from danger—free from sin and care, May angels guide their footsteps, was baby’s prayer.” ‘When the little voice hushed I looked aro at Santa—dear old Santa, his eyes were filled with tears. “She did say her prayers,” he whis- pered softly. Bang! What was that? Such a clat- ter, I looked around and there was Herby —Herby of the doubtful morals. He had fallen over a box and was almost stand- Many Thousands of Children Find Christmas Spirit in Response to Appeals for Gifts—Keen Observation Enables Traditional Figure to Relieve Suffering. ing on his fat little head. He righted himself and rushed back to Santa breathless. 2 “Santa, I want you bring 'ittle Art'ur a Lindbergh cap, hook and ladder an'- an’-an’ a-steam shovel,” he demanded. After devious methods and many questionings Santa finally learned that Yittle Art'ur was Herby's baby brother and this same Arthur was all of three weeks old. After Herby's spectacular debut a little colored boy about three years old came up to Santa’s throne. “What's your name?” asked Santa. “Buzz,” he replied. “Where do you live, Buzz?” “Over yonder,” he said, pointing to an indefinite locality. “What do you want for Christmas, Buzz?” asked Santa. “Toys,” answered Buzz. “What toys?” Santa wanted to know. “Dunno,” answered Buzz. Just then his speculating eye espied a pair of long, black stockings hanging on the mantel back of Santa’s throne. From cne stocking a funny clown peep- o fgg'ky looky, Sant tocking et A , Santa, your sf full,” he shouted. “Oh, yes, yes,” agreed the old saint. “I want the funny man in your stock- ing, Santa, and . . . 00-000 I want this, ,” he said. “This” happened to be a $40 toy fire chief’s red engine with a bright brass bell. “Have you been a good boy, Buzz?” the old man asked kindly. Buzz nodded his head emphatically as he clanged the fire chief's bell and all the while he longingly rolled his eyes toward the funny man in Santa’s stocking. "Youirlng um down chimney?” Buzz called to Santa as his impatient father led him away, A Then a dainty little miss (age 4) pre- sented Santa with her Christmas list. “Santa, I ...I...Want .., .” “Where do you live?” interrupted Santa. “In Virginia. An. . an. . I want @ . . a fire truck, a hook and ladder, a dump truck and a dolly, an . . oh, yes, & choo-choo train, an . . an . . & m% ight, coming i right, little lady, I'm down the chimney at your house to bring your toys,” St. Nick promised. “Yes, I know you will,” she answered. “Think of that dainty little thing wanting a dump truck. Well, well, the men had better watch this generation of girls. It looks ITke they begin train- ing early these days to step into the men’s jobs,” Santa chuckled gleefully. * ok Kk . I FOUND the gates of another toyland guarded by two weird, mechanical toys. On one side stood a bear—such a stood on his hind legs, he swished his tail, he shook his head—and he danced! Opposite the bear stood a 5-foot lady hippopotamus gayly dressed in a cre- tonne skirt, and she danced, too. These grotesque figures delighted the children, who crowded about themand shouted with glee over such comical antics. On a throne sat a kindly, roly- man togged out in a red suit, a white beard and a toboggan. He made a good Santa Claus, and I'll wager that his own children’s stockings will be bulging on Christmas morning. He took Mary Lee on his lap and asked her where she lived. u‘;fiy-by on the street cars,” she re- plied. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked. “A real baby brother, a bike and a booky,” she replied. ‘When the sweet little thing left Santa she threw him kisses and called, “By- by, Santa, Booky, Booky!” A ragged little colored girl hesitating- ly approached Santa's throne. Her clothes were meager for this cold De- cember day. Her thin sweater was full of holes and her shoes and stockings barely held together. She was painfully embarrassed. “What is your name?” Santa asked kindly. “Gardenia,” she answered, s the blue celling sprinkled with mu.w‘. ingly. . bear, dressed in his Sunday best. He | in: - “Where do you live, Gardenia?” he asked. “In Georgetown,” she answered. “How did you get 'way down here?” he inquired. “I walked, sir, but please, I want a washtub and a ’lectric iron and a dolly, but Santa never did bring me none,” she pleaded pitifully. “Have you been a good girl, Gar- denia?” “I will be from now on,” she promised as she turned to go. “Get her name and address,” Santa ordered a lady nearby. We sadly watched the tattered little child as she went away. “That is the sad part about Christ- mas,” Santa said, “the poor children— they ask for what they want, and there's no Santa—for them. Disap- pointments, they help to make crim- als. I never promise a child any- thing I cannot give him. But there are S0 many—so many poor little ones. You'd be surprised at some of the let- ters we get. Begging Santa for some- thing—anything. I have a letter here now from a little girl who says Santa Claus has never been to her house yet, and she is 9 years old.” “But there must be some way to reach these children, or at least some of them,” I said. “Yes, the store keeps their letters and we try to give them something, but it is sad.” He shook his head thoughtfully. While Santa was lost in reverie and his eyes were growing misty a little girl began tugging at his sleeve and blow- ing her tinny tin horn. “Looky here, Santa, looky here,” she pleaded. i Yeuo.u there, mht.lg one,” he said. “You blow m ™, Santa,” begged the child. " Just then a little boy ran to Santa waving his fat little fists. “Santa, I want undbergh cap, a “All right, , sonny. But who's Nplgo?" l.s;ced lhfi nt.lyl“mdh:u saint. *“Popo, Popo, she there,” he explained, pointing to the huge lady hippopotamus who danced, ltg)ened and shut her mth and rolled her eyes—all by elec O man Santa smiled understand- ou by Ha o Bamp 1l and ¢