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BY THE WAY.I

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BY THE WAY. Christmas Toys and Christmas Joys. There is some reason to fear that this Christmas will lack something of its gaiety and seasonable hilarity. Even during the war, though to us elders too often a season of. sorrowful memories and of wistful wonder- ing how much longer the time-honoured mes- sage of "Peace on Earth" might be sus- pended over the so-called civilised world, to the children it was still the same old Yuletide of fun and frolic, Santa Claus and stockings, holly and mistletoe, plum pudding and crack- ers—especially crackers. At no other time of year was there the same joyousness in their boisterous bang, or the same pleasure in un- folding their mysterious contents. And now, such is the topsy-turvy-dom of Fate, just as we are recovering our national spirits and looking forward to a Christmas of general re- union, so far as the ravages of war permit, a blow is struck which will leave the festival of this year an empty mockery to many a youngster. For I read in the papers the pathetic news that owing to a shortage in material there is likely to be a famine in false 'noses i for Christmas crackers. Crackers and no false noses inside to frighten the Kids and make the servants scream! Why to many a small boy the announcement, if he is Uot too dazed to realise its signifi- cance, must appear positively appaling. No false noses and only those silly paper bonnets and sentimental mottoes, which are all right for a girl perhaps, but 'altogether beneath the dignity of Tommy Tucker to don in Society No false noses Bah the thing is preposterous. It cannot be true. It must not be true. Somebody must right it some- how, but who and how? Oh this terrible war, which has rid us of all our old landmarks and left us still groping in a strange world, where nothing is quite what it used to be," always a, shortage of something, even of the necessary, the absolutely necessary, ingredients of false noses! Tommy's world reels under his feet, and for the first time in his young and soaring existence perhaps he dimly realises that the war and all its economic consequences, means something gone out of his life—for ever! For, by next year, what good will false noses be to him? He will have grown out of range of, their use, and possibilities, and may prob- ably prefer a more grown-up form of cele- bration. Other toys and other joys, np doubt, may enliven his winter holidays, Cut that delicious moment, to the repetition of which he had been looking forward for weeks, when, having donned his dreadful nasal disguise, he could shout boo at other little boys, tiny enough to find it difficult to determine whether to pretend they were not alarmed out of their irits or to rush off in tears to sympathetic maternal arms, or to meet Sarah Jane on the Stairs and hear her exclaim "Oh Master Totil. how you did frighten me,"—that a Ithing of the past! The idea eeems really hardly possible, as everything does seem when, for the first time, we recognise how irrevocable its dis- appearance is. No more of those happy fam- ily gatherings around the old home fire. The old home is broken up and its various mem- bers must needs for the future make fresh centres of celebration of their own. No more of those hilarious gatherings of old friends at the festive board. Some of the company are beyond the call of human voice, and one by one, others are growing too old, too infirm, to enjoy themselves as they did in the good old days." If they meet now it must oe around a shrunken table, and with many a melancholy thought of the what-has-been. Yet what gatherings they used to be, and, as we dwell on them thus in reminiscent mood, we catch for a moment something of the old spirit, and we tell some of the old stories that used to go so famously, but— weIr, well; it is the way of an ever-changing world. w or; Nevertheless, let us not be too despondent about it all. If one door closes it is generally the signal for another to Open, and something may yet fill the voids. Ingenious craftsmen may perchance still furnish us with some sub- stitute for false noses, and, anyhSw, those little boys who come for the first time into the arena of Christmas party gaiety this year will not know what they are missing. They may perhaps listen with awe to the- stories of other little boys, just a year older than them- selves, of what Christmas was like last year before the spectre of famine stalked through the land, and they will probably think that Christmas must have been a jollier thing be. fore their time, just as we do when we turn to the pictures of Mr. Pickwick and his friends at Dingley Dell. But they will furlt, as we do also, with some contentment to the sort of things that mark the Christmas merri- ment of our days-mord, subdued perhaps, but not without their compensating virtues. Or they may, like us again, adopt the philo- sophic view that there is a good deal of ex- aggeration about the joys of the past. Even in Ur. Pickwick's time there may have been people who were deploring the fact that one never gets a real old-fashioned Christmas nowadays, in the I same,waytha.t we have done every year since I can remember. Pictorially (as someone said not long ago], the White Yule holds its own and cartoons in the Illustrated Papers and such Christ- mas cards as are not wholly given to Eccle- siasticisrn, delight to represent the typical landscape of Christmas as a strange mixture of blue skies, bright sun, green trees, and deep snow. Father Christmas and Santa Claus always arrive in snowstorms, and even the Shepherd of Bethlehem, as de- (Contiaued at bottom of next column.

ITHE CHURCHES. !

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BY THE WAY.I