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Always Christina
fROM the rusn and bustle of busy
American city streets, alive at
this season of the year with
Christmas shoppers, back to old
Nuremberg, in Germany, where
the Christmas spirit lasts the
year around, where Santa Claus
spends his working months for
the joy of the world’s children—
surely the step is not too great
for the imagination nor its goal
uninteresting as a study. Come
out of your crowded streets,
your people-packed stores, leave
off for the time being your
breathless chase after that
troublesome ’’last present,” and
turn Into the quiet winding streets, the Irregular
hilly passages dovetailed by houses older than any
thing in the oldest parts of the United States,
douse rises above house full of a history as roman
tic as the proudest mansion of our city streets,
and yet marked by a simplicity and single-hearted
ness seldom present In things modern. It Is here
that the toys are made w hich you buy in your home
across the sea. Here in the quietness of the un
modern, the playthings are invented and perfected
for your restless, buoyant children. You read
“Made in Germany” with a skeptical tilt of the
eyebrow, but the fact remains that by far the
greater number of all the toys manufactured
come from Nuremberg.
The ancient feudal city, around which cluster
the grim traditions of the Inquisition and the
thrilling epic of the times of Charles V., has for
four hundred years or more been the center of
the children’s fairyland. It has been and is the
nucleus of Christmas happiness for the youth
of every place In the Occident, and its charm
is the perpetual one of joyous creation which de
lights in planning the amusement of little people.
In the factories' they will tell you that 72,000,-
000 marks' ($18,000,000) worth of pleasure is
sent out from Nuremberg every year, and that
$6,500,000 of tills export is for the benefit of
Young America. Only a few years ago all of the
necessary labor for. this immense production was
done by hand, and much of the finishing and fine
last touches 'are performed by special artists.
Even now In the factories the old spirit of an
almost consecrated enthusiasm lives and is evi
dent in the interest of the village artisans for
their craft. Not merely the reason of bread and
butter goes toward the making of those marvel
ous walking dolls, >ithbse phenomenal speaking
picture books, those thousand and one games that
have called for all the imaginative as well as
practical genius of these honest German peasant
folk. Rather has their unique industry called for
and developed in them a romance, a sensitiveness
of perception which is remarkable.
Follow the lurching, worn curves of the Al
brecht-Durerstrasse, and you come to one of the
many homes of this Nuremberg spirit. In a min
iature red-roofed house, wedged in among a hun
dred squat brown huts, live two old men —broth-
ers, of sixty-five and seventy—whose white
heads are constantly bent over small circles of
wood —shaping, paring, carving, painting.
All day they sit there, sometimes all night,
toiling over the delicately ornamented dolls’
dishes which .perhaps you have bought, as a small
insignificant thing, just this afternoon for your
small daughter's tree.
You looked at them carelessly; they were not
especially original or attractive, and you shoved
them into your bag with a half-hesitating accept
ance, thinking that maybe they would please ca
pricious Dorothy. How could you know that back
in the village of Always Christmas old hands had
fashioned those trivial plates and pitchers, old
eyes had strained with loving anxiety over those
fine traceries of columbine, and old hearts bad
warmed over those completed trifles with the
same thrill of the master painter over his best?
But this was true. Indeed, nearly all of the
simple wooden toys are constructed by hand, in
some humble volkshause which goes to make up
the aggregate creative force of Santa Claus’
workshop. Take the tiny sets of soldiers, the
doll’s chairs and tables, the painted wooden ani
mals whose realism is a delight to all children,
actual or grown up. These are fashioned in
homes, sometimes by the efforts of whole fam
ilies, but most often by children themselves.
Sixteen is the age limit for child labor in the
factories, but no young person is prohibited from
assisting his parents at home, provided he spends
the required period of time at school. So that
many of those playthings which give most hap
piness to the children of America have been
made by the children of Nuremberg. And if
babies must work, what work could one find for
them more appropriate or more pleasurable than
-X Mil'll h Ml I 't ? /
" " ~ —»1 I J-AS- I
this business of toy
making. They grow
up in the midst of It,
all their hereditary
ideas are colored by it,
the history of the city
speaks of it.
Inside of half a doz
en blocks you have
trains, up-to-date ho
tels, electricity, motor
cars, Parisian frocks,
primitive carts drawn
by hugs mastiffs, funny
tucked-away inns near
the market place full
of peasant women In
wide black silk aprons
and snowy vfhite caps—crumbly fountains and a
castle with a secret passage. All the elements of the
fascinating past and the strangely progressive
present within a stone’s throw of each other. The
realization of all that Nuremberg has been and
hds undergone comes to 6ne most vividly as one
stands looking down into the Schloss well 650
feet deep, where prisoners used to come to fetch
water. Underground their passage led from the - '
dungeons to this unlit circular pool, for state pris
oners were never permitted to see the light, and
the hollow splash of the water which the attend
ant drops Into the well seems to re-echo, after an
interminable half-minute, the hopeless pilgrim
age of those countless victims of medieval fanat
icism. Such Is the potency of the ended. While
the vitality of the occurring emphasizes itself, not
far off, in one of the dozens of toy factories,
whose very machinery whirs modernity, men,
women and children—that is, children over six
teen—are massed into this building, all intent on
the one idea, the creation of better and newer and
more wonderful toys for everyone’s children, in
everyone's country.
It is seldom the industrial planet can boast of
a broader ambition than this of the craftsmen of
Nuremberg. To bring the greatest possible amount
of pleasure, legitimate and often educative pleas
ure, to growing, active minds is surely an aim
worthy of the finest art in the world. It even
seems as though the thought back of the toys
should surround them with a deeper meaning as
gifts this Christmastide, since the added gift—the
biggest gift—lies in the patient interested inven
tion and accomplishment of which they are the
exponent.
As for the inventors, strictly speaking, their
reward seems infinitesimal according to our stand
ards. The “boss” controls ideas as well as mate
rials of output, and it is chiefly to his profit that
new inventions in toyland redound. The man or
woman who first thinks of or improves upon some
plaything gets a very small per cent, of the in
come from it. To our new world standards of
commerce it seems strange that the originator
should receive such scant recognition and that
without grumbling.
Very, very few Nuremberg toymakers have
ever grown rich over their ingenuousness. It is
true that ideas as well as toys in Germany sell
for double what they sold for eight years ago,
even! On the other hand the price of living has
gone up appreciably, and what would have seemed
a large purchase price then is only moderate now.
The staff of artists employed by the Nurem
berg factory boss is in itself a not inconsiderable
expense, and many a quiet charity is undertaken
by these men who at home would be absorbed
in getting rich. In the shop of Fritz Muller are
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various small kitchen gardens, carved and painted
by a poor man and his sister after their regular
working hours, and bought by Mr. Muller at high
rates as his pet philanthropy. In this shop, now
100 years old, are seen all of the most novel ol
the toy-village playthings. The store was crowded
with ir\ore children over thirty than «tuler thir
teen, and absorbed for hours over the clever and
quaint attractions.
The doll’s house of Nuremberg leaves nothing
to he desired. Not only the usual rooms of a con
ventional menage are found in it, but conserva
tories with miniature orchids, fountains and wa
tering cans; school rooms with tiny desks, a
schoolmaster, very stern, with goggles and ruler,
and children in aprons and carrying slates, the
latter a sixteenth of an inch big; fields of flowers
for the back yard and a swing for the smallest
doll.
In all German art, of which toy making is by
no means an insignificant department, perfection
of detail has always been the salient feature. Ev
ery phase of home life is reproduced in micro
scopic form in German toyland, even down to the
wee pairs of hand-knitted stockings and sweaters
the hob-nailed shoes and blue blouses which make
up the wardrobe of the yolks boy and girl.
The tourist season is a second Christmas for
Nuremberg people, and they sell as many play
things in the one period as the other. An inter
esting point brought to light hv this fact is the
early differentiation of the American and Euro
pean individuality, which shows itself in choice of
games and pastimes. They say in the shops that
an American child is invariably fascinated over
the mechanical and complicated, that he finds in
tense interest in mastering the technicalities even
of playing, while the European child likes a sim
pler hut brilliantly colored toy, cherishing often a
curious sentiment for traditional objects such as
typify old world conservatism.
They are blessed with imagination, those vil
lage people, and they are not ashamed of show- J
lng their simplicity of spirit. Their souls are
bound up in the heritage of centuries. The trag
edies of their city’s history wind about the toys
they make, breathing into the wood a characteris
tic vitality—the vitality that comes of centuries
of striving, of centuries of patient achievement.
As you sit In a swirl of red ribbon and foamy
paper, “doing up” your Christmas presents, re
member that many of thorn have come from this
quaint little Village of Always Christmas. It
may aad to your holiday happiness to know that
no pleasure which the toys may bring can be
greater than the pleasure of those who made them,
and that no good will of yours can outdo the quiet
sincerity of purpose with which the simple people
of Nuremberg have given their part toward this
season cf the universal gift.
TOO BAD.
Mr. Knocker—l had little faith in
the curative properties of your medi
cine.
j The Agent—But it cured you?
Mr. Knocker—Yes, of even the little
| faith I had in it.
A Long Chance.
"I took a long chance when I asked
her to marry me.”
‘‘She rejected you, eh?”
‘‘No, that was the long chance I
j took. She accepted me.”
Fulfillment.
‘‘Two great desires of my life have
been gratified. One was to go up in
an airship.”
“And the other?”
“To get safely back to earth."
For COLDS and CiRIP
Hicks’ Capidixk Is the best remedy—re
lieves the aching and feverishness—cures the
Cold and restores normal conditions. It's
liquid—effects lmmediatly. 10c.. 250„ and 50e.
At drug stores.
The girl in the silk stockings never
gets her skirts muddy.
The Human Heart a
The heart is a wonderful double pump, through the
action of Which the blood stream is kept sweeping tx 'ffifffiuH. I
round and round through the body at the rate of seven /dA I
miles an hour. “ Remember this, that our bodies
will not stand the strain of over-work without good,
pure blood anymore than the engine can run smooth- WjK|!f
ly without oil.” After many years of study in the
active practice of medicine, Dr. R. V. Pierce found If I
that when the stomach was out of order, the blood
impure and there were symptoms of general break- ~T
down, a tonic made of the glyceric extract of certain
roots was the best corrective. This he called
Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery
Being made without alcohol, this “ Medioal Discovery” helps\the stomach
assimilate the food, thereby curing dyspepsia. It is especially adapted to diaeaaea
attended with excessive tissue waste, notably in convalescence from various
fevers, for thin-blooded people and those who are always “ catchhSfccold.”
Dr. Pierce's Common Sense Medical Adviser is sent on
cent stamps for the French cloth-hound hook of 1008 pages. A
R. V. Pierce, No. 663 Main Street, Buffalo, N. Y.
sSlaßr
During fifty years, four generations
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wTI. DOUGLAS
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Boys* Shoes, $2.00, $2.50 and $3.00. Best in the World.
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which apply principally largo factories at Brockton, Wmj
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CAUTION !?. one without W.L. DougU«x»ire un SMBewmww
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jour dealer cannot supply lonwiUi | ! i 8 Shoe«,_write for Mail Order Catalog.
L ‘ COPULAS, 145 Spark. St., Brockton, Maas.
COLT DISTEMPER
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SPOHN MEDICAL CO.e Chemistsßscterioioghu, COSh6», !nd. f U. S. A.
AH A H AXLE GREASE
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mm. Oncnrnnratedi
CURETHATGOLD
TODAY
**l vroultl rather presene ik|H9pitli
nation than be its ruier.»^jHfr* r N-
Thousands of people who are* suffering
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they may be prostrated with penumonia.
An ounce of prevention is worth a pound
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j carried in the vest pocket. If you are
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It checks discharges of the nose and eyes,
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If you need Medioal Advice, write to
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,M u . ns ’°n. 53d and Jefferson streets,
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■ B.BTEVkNS X 00., Kstab. XML,
853 14th 81, Washington; 2CO LHiarboru til., Chicago.
DEFIANCE STARCH S-fiES
— —
W. N. U., ATLANTA, NO. 51-1910.