asking no glory. From the low deck of the Peerless we could see them waving their brown caps against the bright blue nothingness of the skyline. They were home again, and we were glad.
MAROONED IN PHILADELPHIA
If a Philadelphian of a hundred years ago could walk along our streets at night, undoubtedly the first thing that would startle him would be the amazing dazzle of light that floods from all the shop windows. Particularly during the few weeks directly preceding Christmas city streets at night present a panorama that would cure the worst fit of the blues. What a glowing pageant they are, blazing with radiance and color! Here and there you will find a display ornamented with Christmas trees and small red, blue and green electric bulbs. Perhaps there will be a toy electric train running merrily all night long on a figure-eight-shaped track, passing through imitation tunnels and ravines with green artificial moss cunningly glued to them; over ravishing switches and grade crossings, past imposing stations and little signal towers. Perhaps you may be lured by the shimmer of a jeweler's window, set with rows and rows of gold watches on a slanting plush or satin background. There, if you are a patient observer, you will usually find one of the ultra-magnificent timepieces that have an old-fashioned railroad train
