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Fiction PART SEVEN. Christmas at the Hoovers’ In the Household of the First Family of the Land Christmas Is an Old-Fashioned\ Simple, Personally-Prepared Holiday, With Members of the Family Gathering the Yuletide Decorations, Trimming the Tree and Preparing Gifts and Surprises. jm rm- R. HOOVER, as /■ /t President, does /a/ m not seek a new / W M kind of Christ s “ mas. He sticks to the simple, old-fashioned con ception of It. . Like a clear stream running through a tangled forest, the true spirit of Christmas has carried for ward through centuries of life's ever - Increasing complexity. Oxen of today are satisfied with what satisfied the oxen of Beth lehem's manger. But set the present world of motor cars and refrigerators, of cable and radio and airplane, against that of the shepherds and the wise men and we have a picture of the ever-growing, forever unsatis fied aspirations of man. Over whelmed by the complexity of the social structure humanity is rearing, some of us are likely to lose a true perspective. Not so the President. He sees that it is not what this amazing complexity of de velopment has added to our daily living that has made Christmas carry down the cen turies to us, but, on the con trary, just its primally simple and beautiful—the forever the same—spirit of good will toward men which finds most perfect expression in simplest terms. With his genius for stripping off non-essentials, he keeps close to the age-old heart of Christmas. IN the Hoover household . Christmas is a festival. It means a tree, decorations, color and gayety. The President loves that aspect of it. And he knows that it can only be a true festi val if we ourselves prepare this background. So he has long had the habit of going out into the country in search of the green ery and bright berries, the nuts and fruits and vegetables which provide such a holiday setting. With a couple of cars—some times more—piled full of chil dren and friends, and provided with necessary hatchets and saws, he sets off to find some remote part of a wood or over grown place which would be made better by a certain amount of thinning out. The gatherers have vivid memories of their leader standing tiptoe, stick in hand, patiently trying to lure down a certain leafy branch, or leaping into the air to win a nut, or fording a stream to capture some other prize. One of them heard him remark recently, and with a certain wistfulness, as he sur veyed his new estate from the rear portico of the White House, “Very beautiful, but I don’t see a single nut tree on the whole place.’’ The pleasure in personal prep aration of the holiday scene binds like a golden cord all the varied expression of the Hoovers’ Christmas day. The tree Is not trimmed by somebody else—it is trimmed by the family. It may not be as elaborate as somebody else's tree, but it is the Hoover tree. Down the years has come a traditional division of trimming labor. There is the familiar annual dispute about whether the star or the angel shall top the tree, with victory going angelward one year and starward the next. But for years now there has been no discussion as to which family member “irosts.” Long ago. when the first magical tinsel strips appeared, one had joyously seized a supply and, rushing his ladder about the room, ran ’hat magic along the tops of all doors and windows, hung it from pictures and furniture and tree, until the room was one silver gleam. He still gfyt Jluittfcty Jlto jWagahne WASHINGTON, D. C, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1929. The Hoover tree is not trimmed by somebody else—it is trimmed by the family. Drava by Stockton Mulford. By Charlotte Kellogg. ( Author of “Merrier,, the Fighting Cardinal of Belgium**f. pre-empts “frosting," while others zealously guard their own chosen roles of artistic endea vor. Gifts are simple, but no matter how busy or complicated life may happen to be at the moment, into the choosing and wrapping of each, into every greeting, goes individual work and pleasure. This habit of giving of what one is, os well as of what one has, is characteristic, funda mental. Its expression rings down the toad of President Hoover’s whole career, from the put ting through of his first job to his message of “work,” spoken the other day to the most im portant business conference ever held in our country. So the essential music of Christmastlde—the caroling and piecespeaking and playacting*— are not brought In from outside; they are ihe spontaneous contribution of family members and friends. And there are besides the two grown sons, Herbert and Allen, and the daughter-in law, Peggy Watson Hoover, the niece and nephew, Janet and Delano Large, and the grandchildren, Peggy Ann and Herbert, 3d, to lead in this part of the gayety. 'J'HE festivities begin before breakfast. The First Lady, having once long ago come upon two little wide-eyed children who had crept out of bed to watch tensely on a cold stairway for the stocking hour, decided then and there that if she ever had children there would be a preliminary stocking filled with Features 81 smaller gifts and jokes, which anybody could leap for the minute he was awake and take back to his warm bed. So la the Hoover house everybody has his advance stocking in his own room. Then he proceeds to breakfast—shutting his eyes to the larger stockings and tree nearby. Thus he is encouraged to prepare for the exciting day, by eating and more or less nor mally digesting at least this initial meal! Here the neighbors gather. For no celebration ever stops at the Hoover fence; in fact, there has never been a Hoover fence. I remember once, when gayety had spilled over into the rear porch of the Washington S street house, spying a small and lonely boy who had clambered up what is called a fence at the bottom of the garden, and was clinging there, watching. I had no sooner sighted him than I saw Mr. Hoover quickly crossing the tree-covered area to lift that small boy over the fence and bring him into the midst of what he had been watching from afar. As many neighbors as can get there gather to find a real wel come. One “belongs” in the Hoover house at Christmas, or at any other time. Fortunately, daily increasing numbers of our people are now experiencing this welcome. According to some statistically minded newspaper reporters more people have slept in the White House beds and eaten from its table since these Californians have moved into it than ever before in an equal period of time. And yet, with all the coming and going, the successive visiting, there persists a quietness and simplicity and an impression of sharing that is difficult to describe. One friend came near expressing 16 when he said. “Don't you feel ia the Hoovers’ house that you have to defend them against your sense of possession?” This, too, springs from some thing fundamentally character istic of both the President and the First Lady. They have the neighborhood conception of liv ing. Always just next door to one are potential friends. Naturally and easily thesd particular Americans hav# broadened their neighborhood to Atlantic-Pacific boundaries. The President, as he prepared for his immediate family festival is thinking of his responsibili ties to, and hopes for, his great er family. For his conception of government is that it is just a prodigious housekeeping job. ltd complicated administrative ma chinery exists only to look after the needs and secure the happU ness of the national family. QNE of the President’s objectives, one of hlrf hopes for his family, cm this Christmas day is to see developed in the national family Just that sense of possession which friends have said they feel in his own house—to have our sense of i wsession in our glorious natural resources made alive, keen, joyous. Therefore, he la ushering in the new era of conservation, more' outdoor parks, more playgrounds for city chil dren; more Intelligent handling of the public 1 domain; conservation of oil and other riches,’ and protection of water sources. The outdoor Christmas tree, the community tree and celebration, that spirit which has, these’ Continued on Second Page. ' *