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By GERALD BEAUMONT
Decoration by Angus MacOenaix
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TwXs the Evening of Wonders, and soft through the air
Ran the chatter of children, the whisper of prayer
Far down the bread atreet where the world seemed te end
Steed a little gray cottage juat ever the bend
A little gray cottage forlorn In the dark.
With the beacon of hope burned away te a spark;
And mett would hare whimpered, aa little beya can,
Only; Johnny waa six, and therefore a man J
And men never whimper when Chrlatxnaa la near
Though cupboard lack coeldea, and cottage lack cheer;
Though shirt be In tattera, and treuaera In holes,'
And the tops of your shoes have deserted their soles.
Ne, men never whimper when Christmas la near
It wouldn't be right, 'cause old Santa might hear!
Thus Little-Boy-Jehn, who waa almost a man,
Explained te hia mother, aa little beya can.
Then off with his tatters, and down by his bed
Te kneel en the fleer with a little bowed head;
And seen he waa sleeping with eyelids shut tight,
But alas for his mother, who sobbed through the night!
'Twas the Evening of Wonders, when dreams should come true,
And she sobbed en her pillow us mothers will de;
Fer tne hopes of a child are as bitter te blast
Aa the pleasures of childhood are sweet while they last I i
While Johnny was dreaming that Santa CJaua cams
With a package of toys and a wonderful game, "
There stele up a motorcar bearing a friend'
Te the little gray cottage just ever the bend;7
And funny big bundles were left at the deer,
All labeled "Frem Santa Claus," that, nothing morel
O twinkle, ye stars! as ye sung o'er the earth,
And glory te Him whom the heavens gave birth I
The little gray cottage just ever the bend,
Down the bread street where the world seemed te end,'
Was a mansion of joy, net a hovel of aorrew,
When Little-Bey-Johnny arose en the morrow.
And It may have been you, or perhaps it waa I
Who drove the big auto se softly and shy
But don't you feci happy te knew that tome friend'
Remembered the cottage just ever the bend?,
12$: :::::
ONE WONDERS it Mr. Beaumont, when lie wrote
his poem, may net have had all of us in mind and
employed Little-Boy-Jehn as a symbol of the universal
heart Fer upon that heart, new and again, fall evil days.
Garments of happiness are displaced by spiritual rags,
and mankind becomes hungry of soul and wonders that
the joy of life should have departed. Yet, all the time, deep
in the heart of humanity, still burns the candle of faith.
Se, dawns at last a New Day, when upon the doorstep
of our house of life we find the gifts left there, for us, in the
night. And among these gifts are wonderful pictures,
and beautiful poems and transporting stories, whereby,
as en a magic carpet, we are conveyed te all the
corners of the world and given clearly te understand the
springs of human action and te beheld the dreams of
life realized.
Se comes te you today, in the form of The Red Boek
Magazine for January, from which Mr. Beaumont's
poem is here reproduced, a pack of magic gifts in story
and picture gifts created by the most famous writers
and artists te dispel all gloom from your heart, all
weariness from your eyes; te convert the hovel
of your spirit, if in such it dwell, into a mansion of
joy, and te give back te you that which is worth
mere than all else the hopes, the dreams, and the
faith of youth.
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