The Montgomery advertiser., 1905-12-17

Whoever believes that dolls are mere images of china and bisaue ana cotton, belonging only to our chrysai- Is state, and playing no part in our heart t-histories-whoever believes that the child spirit ever quite dies out or us-let him stop reading at this perioo' But whoever knows that these thing 5 which we cali dolls are real entities and have their exits and their eh- frances on the stage of life-whoeVet has the faith that there Is more III t doll than its crying-box. let him reao on to the end. I say him out or sheer deferencc to grammar. but of course l mean the other thing. For whoever heard of a boy, or anything that ever was a boy, getting even peep into the dream-world that Is peopled by dolls! am sorry for them-for boys, I mean, and the things that used to be boys.
 Now we who are on the inside or things know what it is to live. for ono blest period, in fairyland. With every recurring Christmas time the illusion beckons us back along remembered maths: and one heart that I know or recalls with every returning season the little dream people that once held sway over it's every mood.
 At the farthest end of the dim aisle Of reC0lleCtlOn StdHuS d lllllc tuppNi soldier. on guard. Besides being sim gularly beautiful, he was good 10 squeak, and good to chew; and to this day, the sight of a soldier, the smell of rubber, or the taste of red paint, conjures up a feeling that Is akin to infinite regret.
 Nearer than the soldier. but very very distant still., is Polly Hardbar- gain''-an unbending sort of person. and rather hard, owing to the fact that she was the sawed-off knob of trun- dle.bed post. Poor Polly didn't have leg to stand on except just play-nKe ones, but she kept up with the marcn of doll time, just the same. Now. that is where the dream world has the ad- Vantage of the real one-in playing ike. What an infinite advantage 1t would be, for instance. if. just by play ing-like, you and I could put hearts into the breasts. or brains into the heads Of certain people we meet Tn thls sure though world of ours.
 Then there was "The Baby" that got broken into flinders before she was ever christened I have always been deeply thankful that good Methodist brickbats are not consigned to Limbo for want of Christian baptism rms baby wasn't found under the regula- ton rose-bush. She came into being In a brick kiln. and she measured two by four. by eight. That ueScrlpIloh doesn't really do her justice at all. for when she was properly robed in long baby dress made out of Mammys apron, and had purloined table nap kin tied over her head for cap, she was quite the cutest thing in the world. And the best thing about her was that she was heavy enough to sag down In the middle when you carried her, ike d sure-enough baby, you know. And then she cried and cried, and had to be rocked and rocked-all of which was very interesting. I really hate to tell you how The Baby left us, but it has gone out of style to leave stories un- finished, so I suppose I must There was a certain little girl in our neigh borhood who posed as a wit, and in her attempts to be funny she often iostled the affairs of our dream- world with real cruel facts, in a way that was perfectly unpardonable. One day, when The Babys mama was expatiat- ing on her darling's virtues, this hor- rid little girl who tried to be funny but couldn't, exclaimed:
 "Yes, Mrs. Jones, I've heard that your baby is a perfect brick"
 Now Mrs Jones" had an ungovern- able temper, and before she realized what she was doing, she raised the '-brick" in question and hurled it straight at the head of the despoiler of dreams. The iconoclast lodged. The Baby and the tender dream of The Baby's mama were shattered.
 Some time afterwards, another baby. in the shape of tied-up towel, came to the Jones home, but she was never