And for the pilot at his wheel
Let the streams of red wine run,
But here's a health to the man of steel--
The man behind the gun!

Here's to the man who does not swerve
In the face of any foe;
Here's to the man of iron nerve,
On deck and down below;
Here's to the man whose heart is glad
When the battle has begun;
Here's to the health of that daring lad--
To the man behind the gun!

Now let the Stars and Stripes float high
And let the eagle soar;
Until the echoes make reply
We pledge the commodore.
Here's to the chief and here's to war,
And here's to the fleet that won,
And here's a health to the jolly tar--
To the man behind the gun!

Quaint Old Christmas Customs

Compared with the celebrations of our ancestors, the modern Christmas
becomes a very hurried thing. The rush of the twentieth century
forbids twelve days of celebration, or even two. Paterfamilias
considers himself very indulgent if he gives two nights and a day to
the annual festival, because, forsooth, "the office needs him!"

One by one the quaint old customs have vanished. We still have the
Christmas tree, evergreens in our houses and churches, and the yawning
stocking still waits in many homes for the good St. Nicholas.

But what is poor Santa Claus to do when the chimney leads to the
furnace? And what of the city apartment, which boasts a radiator and
gas grate, but no chimney? The myth evidently needs reconstruction to
meet the times in which we live, and perhaps we shall soon see
pictures of Santa Claus arriving in an automobile, and taking the
elevator to the ninth floor, flat B, where a single childish stocking
is hung upon the radiator.

Nearly all of the Christmas observances began in ancient Rome. The
primitive Italians were wont to celebrate the winter solstice and
call it the feast of Saturn. Thus Saturnalia came to mean almost
any kind of celebration which came in the wake of conquest, and
these ceremonies being engrafted upon Anglo-Saxon customs assumed
a religious significance.

The pretty maid who hesitates and blushes beneath the overhanging
branch of mistletoe, never stops to think of the grim festival with
which the Druids celebrated its gathering.

In their mythology the plant was regarded with the utmost reverence,
especially when found growing upon an oak.

At the time of the winter solstice, th