New Britain herald., 1915-12-21
COMMUNICATED.
1 Good Night and Good Bye, Little Red Sled, You Were Good Old Pal.


 Sir: Many of your readers will ap- preciate the world of sentiment con- tained in the appended clipping from the Coming Tower of the New York Tribune. For the sake of us North erners, all of whom owned little red sled," I wish you could find space on the Editorial page for the same. Fleeter than the little red sled'-and it was a fleet little ve~ hicle-is memory which skins over many winters to the days when we used to make a rush for the hill af- ter we were released from school each afternoon. An, those were the days. Gone, all gone, and with them the little red sled.'
 J. O'REILLY.
 THE PASSING OF A PAL.
 Briggs! Webster! Fox! The sled is
 Oh, yes. There are things called sleds in the stores. They will be foisted on several million poor little boys this very Christmas But our sled-our little old, solid-sided, red sled is no more.
 To a big department store Thus the young Eastsider (poor lad, he never saw a coasting hill that wasn't yellow, bounded by gutters, and with a cop at the bottom:) Yeah? Those ? Nav, we don't keep them old-fash ; toned sleds. They'd be dead stock.''
 Then she showed me Supple Slider'-the new sled-save the mark! Built like a girls sled, by cracky! Twenty-Five years ago no red hooded boy would be caught draggin: ;, it. And now-the boys sit-SIT on it and slide FEET IRST-steerin:s g by pushing some patent digger with their feet! Its name was "Kiddo'!
 With a sick soul I fled to another store-only 10 find a sea of "Suppla Sliders"-and nothing else.
 In little country toy store at Bloomfield. N. J., I came to find the little old sled. Worse! Said the lady manager, NO, we don't keep the old sleds. But here's a nice one your child can turn into a cart in sum . mer!'
 Draw on. Briggs! And for me, too, the good, old, little red sled is tuS- eirg behind me on Winter Street H1l l; is low and rakish. It has pe- culiar looking reindeer painted on 1t, which I know was highly kultureo, and whose name is "Dasher.
 With my hands in the two slots in it's sides, I hurl myself ana Sled through the air and down hill-- "hel1y-bust.'
 Faster. Faster. Faster! My eyes are full of tears. My legs are swing ipe and sweeping behind as old 'Dasher" skins down that blinding slope
 By the big oak! A mile and 9 half, Whew! Slower-slower. I dash my sleeve across my nose and. scrap ing my foot in an arc, we sail under the bars into the meadow. Slower! Slower, My nose is hanging over tho edge. nv eyes glued to the white world whirling away under me. I can smell the snOw-hoW good it is that "winter. smcll.'!
 Slower - slower! Slo-o-w Whoa! And what do you think; Right under my nose is the Acme" skate lost last winter!
 Dear fathers and mothers, why take a chance with theso dangerous Supple Slders'? Get the little pets the marvellous, wonderful and amaz-, ing "Wireless Wonder Sled" A small motor propels it up the hill for Willie. And, standing on top, sate and without exertion: he can steer the "Wonder' down hill by a pocket wireless outfit-the sled returning automatically 10 Willie
 Bah! The times are out of joint The kids are iointless-super-s -saturat- cd with science. and efficiency.
 But as for you-Spirit of a homely, stout-hearted little red sled and the spirits of all those homely, stout hearted little red lads that loved you and love you yet-gOod night and goodbye!
 w. w. EVER FIT