Life — December 25, 1902 — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Shade of Demosthenes : The innocent, sweet must cling Vine-like about the disbelief of men.” faith that still The crowd parts as the children ad- vance. The lights about the hall are re- flccted in hundreds of cycglasses. A faist odor of smelling-salts and head- ache lotions fills the air. Tne Srimit or Procress: “Heed thou my scholars!" Tue endo): “We have pondered many an hour O'er the works of Schopenhauer, And our Maeterlinck at sight we under- stand, And our treatment of the ‘ologies’ Would never need apologies, And our Emerson walks with us band in hand. Cuitpren’s Citorus (diminu- “But it’s really most ridiculous To trv to tell a tale to us An active mind could never entertain, And to use this certain season To insult our very reason Is a thing to cause mature reflection pain. “If there's one thing makes us furious It’s to realize the spurious Old fables we're considered to believe; Being versed in Science's laws We're aware that Santa Claus Is as mythical as Adam or as Eve.” The Spirit of Christmas falls back Gneat zevs! upon his throne gasping. White he en- deavors to regain his breath the hall suddenly brightens. A number of . beaming etderly gentlemen take the floor, who prance boyishly as they sing. Cuorvs or (allegro) + Evper.y “Yesterday our hearts were ha ‘Than the nether stone. What to us our neighbor's So we filled our own! Oh, our conduct it was frightful we chanced to stray On this wonderful, delightful, Joyous Christmas “Oh, hurrah for our change of heart— It alicays comes just this wi We invariably act this part On awakening on Christmas Day. Oh, the lame and the halt and the blind, Go find them without delay, Find the seamstress and cripple And the poor men who tipple, To help us give money away.” Tue Spimirt or CuristMas: “At last, at last they read my meaning plain. Now have the times I yearned for come again; Once more I take my olden station, yea; And who are these whose fair words bid me stay? NEVER REALIZED THE POWER OF wonDs t Tite Serrrr or Prooress: “ These are those characters who cannot be, Who will not be, who never yet have been, Who one year appear perennially In every Christmas book and maga- zine.” Tue Semir or Cunistaas (wildly): “They are not real? ..las, not real?” Tue Spirit or Procress: “At most They are considered real as Dickens’ ghost.” pIRIT OF CITRISTMAS: “Alas! Alas! Alas! art is broken and my soul is sore. Farewell, my people—I_ return no more.” The Spirit of Christmas totters from his throne and falls upon his face. The fading wreaths of holly and mistletoe fall about and cover him, Outside can be heard the whir of automobiles, voices of newsboys shouting extras, the clang of trolleys and the rattle of elevated trains. The pcople disperse unconcern- edly, laughing, yatcning and chatting, attended by the Spirits of Progress and Plenty. In the deserted hall. Curistas (faintly): “Farewell!” Curtain. Theodosia Garrison. Tur Sriir or comicbooks.com