Life — December 1, 1927 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

Mayen, spent rR ame ntns Te aes oe ae. zc al ce we ee Se SE d ; 5 ¥ epee 72 Fy 3 Sussece~ Christmas C= Lite —~O Number? << Christmas at Sea HRISTMAS at sea! But CG perhaps I had better quote from the captain's log—old Captain Dusenbury, twenty-eight days out of Salem, bound for Jem. December will be Christmas. : is Christmas. This loneliness is getting me. Twenty-eight days — To-morrow out of Salem and not a sign of the crew. I’ve looked all over the ship, even under the beds. Wind steady. Sea calm.” But meanwhile, for the benefit of those of our readers who have never had the good fortune to visit Vermont, perhaps a slight description of a typical Christ- mas tree “ranch” would not be amiss. It was my pleasure to spend part of my vacation last summer with my grandfather and grandmother, who are known all over the State as “Mr. and Mrs Christmas ree’ —a_ nickname which is due, in no small measure, to the fact that they raise Christ- mas trees for a living. Promptly at five, therefore, we were routed out of bed by my grandmother with an ax and after a brief chase over the house we sat down to a wonderful old-fashioned breakfast of buckwheat es with real Ver- mont maple syrup. All this time, in far-off Japan, little Saki was being made re for the long voyage to Americ where she was to spend Christ- mas with her uncle in the Seventh Avenue subway. “Me velly ex- cited,” shrilled the little member By Donald Ogden Stewart of another race and she and her sister (also a Japanese) indulged in a riotous pillow fight which was rendered none the less in- teresting in that the pillows were made of wood. “Girls, girls, girls!” called their anxious mother from below. “Hurry up or you'll miss the boat.’ So preparations were expedited and soon all was ready. The ere packed and standing in the hall; the plum pudding which Mrs. Saki had sly- ly tucked into her daughter's suit- case was still smoking; a few of the old servants—old Humphries, old Blodgett, old Nance—crowded around the door to wish the daughter of the Hon. house “Bon Voyage.” Then in came Tiny Tim, waving his crutch and looking very brave indeed in his fine new muffler, and the last 4 were soon said. “Good-a-by, little missy,” said old Humphries, standing very straight in order to conceal his tears. “Oh, I'll come back,” replied little Saki. “I'll come back when the cherry trees bloom.” And with that she ran out and leaped into the coach beside a young American naval officer and with a cherry “Tally-ho!" off they drove and the last thing she saw was little Tiny Tim waving his crutch and looking very brave indeed. But let us return to Captain Dusenbury—and perhaps it would be better if I quoted from his log: “December 25.—Still Christmas Day, but later. All the stores probably closed. Wind. ris- boxes Banzai’ ing. Sea agitated. And here I, broken-hearted. A cay without a crew. Longitude 47'—48" W. Latitude 46 18 Where do you sup pose those boys went to? And what shall I do with all the pres ents I bought for them? Fate plays us mariners many a strange trick, but surely none such as this And yet I am captain of my fate I'll take more look all over the ship.” and master of my soul. on Strange,” you may say. “Im- possible!” you may exclaim. But here is the tale they tell in the crooked streets and alleyways of old Marseilles—here is the tale they whisper in the dives of Shanghai and the waterfront saloons of New York. I heard it first from the lips of my grand father as we down Christmas trees last J and T shall give it as he told with all his pic turesque and forceful | were busy cutti to ye “For heaven's sake,” grandfather, I looked and examining something on the ground, “T don't know,” I replied, “but isn’t it time for lunch? He looked up and I regretted my misplaced sally “Son, did you story of Captain Dusenbury?” I’ put down my ax, and he cleared his throat from a stooping position. said my “what's this? He was bending over, almost ever hear the “It was Christmas,” he began, “and the (Please turn to page 69) = FZ ~ comicbooks.com