The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 18??-19??, 1912-12-24

pass; loot. toot. Away. away. ont
OF the dingy room. away from tn.
Sordid HAT. Who cares whether taer.
Is meat for dinner today or not:
Choo. ChoO. Were off to See fair
tanos u countries strange aud far
on the little ten-cent train with the
RED tin wheels and the red tin whts-
te' and the good stout string.
fiush-a-byc. husn-a--hye: there.
~i'nsh.a-tye, hushabyc. Marjoric Mae,
your little mother is worried about
YOU It is fever tina makes those
round cheeks So red: IIush-a-
Dye, h~ush-a-bye; there. .hcre. see.
you are safe-safe III little mothers
arms. Nothing shan brighten you,
NOT even the grim ViSage Of 10 Santa
Claus bogic.
sinh my darling. I'll toll yea the
s'ofy OF tae little girl who didn't be-
lleVe IN Santa Claus and how un-
nappy n WAS tai she found nut the
truth and was al; smiles again.
once upon a time-that's the wav
all stories must begin. the stories Of
little girls and great castles and white
swans and wicked s,eprnother queens.
Once upon q time"
Hush-a-bye, hushabye, he cold
wind that sings to the winaow pan.
cannot reach US now, you and me
See. l wrap my cloak about you, for
YOU are mine. my own little girl, Mar
lorle Mae. Santa Claus said so.
The harsh voice of the man VII,
came yesterday for the money 70,
what we had eaten will not brighter
me now. I will not let my mother
cry. for we have YOU now. my littl.
Marjorie, and all is well.
IT only father had lived TO know
you he would have loved YOU, too
Dear father. he always smiled at m
UhS my 1nty 0A. o,,v1rI 1}- 1,,r
He has gone now. Tar away. mothe
says, Tar. lar away. where 1t Is neVe
cold. and where there are 10 hun
cry people. and wlere all the iittl
girls have dolls like you. dear Mario
ric. 1iush-n-hye, h~ush-a-bya.
! Nonsense, nothing III il, AL a fool
isl, fiction. How can We exc max
, a woman Of q child like that wh
, acts SO silly over u stnselcss doll?
> BE up and doing mother. Don't le
/ her make believe like that. Tell he
ITS Just 2 thin. made of rags an
{ paper and glass. Don't waste YOU
t time on it,
s Take the red aud black engine ava
from that boy Of yours. This worl
isn't meant to play in; it's meant fo
4 work and sorrow, and worrS. an
t death. T'elch him the truth about
and begin today.
i There is no Santa Clans. my son
q Yes. that Is what you say. "Th
: little engine OF pors is nothing b,
a tin. Let's crush it. See, how cou]
YOU think it was an engine? VII;
n crying. Well. you are no longer foo
ed, at any rate. That much have l
i my wisdom done for you
What: You will not join II
r League for the abolition of san
a Claus, little mother? You believe
him yourself? You wouldn't give tn
d one hour Of JOY on Christmas morn
ing for all the days in the rest Of II
it Sordid year?
Well, we'll. There are two Of us
YOU and L. Come. lets join hands Al
j. tell each other stories OF the da
:, when we wondered what made Il
>, voice Of Santa Claus 50 fafnliid
somehow. and whisper, il any AM
I, Santa Claus league comes near
u let's pick up our skirts, just as my @
q aunt used to do when h saw an u
- ruiy hen trying to get out into Il
road and let's shoe them back in
ST their little. narrow. practical COO
IT again. Shall We-you and Il