FATHER CHRISTMAS AND THE PHRENOLOGIST.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIII, Issue 306, 23 December 1912, Page 3 (Supplement)

FATHER CHRISTMAS AND THE PHRENOLOGIST.

A CHRISTMAS EVE INCIDENT. (By W.M.) Our Tame Phrenologist, who ie of a eirial, not to say convivial disposition, ad returned home after a little jollificaion with some friends, in the course of i-hich the subject of buimps -was pleaantly varied by the frequent discussion f bumpeTS. Glowing with good will towards all ae-n (for it was Christmas Eve) and torards most women (for he has 'his donestic trials, poor man) he had careully remioved his boots in the hall, hung hem gracefully on the hat-rail, and tipoed stealthily to his study, intending o muse awhile on the great recurring heme of Chrtstmastide. "A single nightcap, ten minutes by the ire, and then to bed." whispered the mrenologist to himself, a 6 he busied liraself with the tantalus. But no sooner had he ensconced hrmelf in his armchair than an incident ocurred which promised to detain him onger from his couch than he h-ad deigned. First a muffled tread in the tall without assailed his startled ear. "The missus!" he muttered, hurriedly «creting his glass behind the coal scutle. But to his profound relief, the figure hat the next moment entered his study vas not that of his irate spouse, but— "ather Christmas! There was no mistaking him, for adhough it has been vouchsafed to few nortals to view him with their bodily ?yes. in the (mind's eye of us all his imige dwells distinct and well defined. •'Father Christmas!" cried the profesi sor. recovering his composure and his hidden glass, and springing to his feet, "what brings you here? There are no children in the house, worse luck, and I'm pretty certain the missus hasn't hung her stocking up." "I want you to Tead my bumps, professor."' replied Santa Claus, throwing back his hood, and depositing his toysack on the floor. "I seeim to possess so much less influence among mortals today >hat 1 am wondering whether I have lost any of my faculties.'' "Sit down, sit down!" cried the professor. "This is a chance 1 never dreamed of! 1 shall have to read a paper before the Phrenological Society. It will make my reputaxion." The professor ran his trembling fingers through the good saint's silvery hair. "Strange!"' he muttered; "very stra.nge indeed. The most remarkable head I have ever fingered. I can only find two bumps. All the rest of your head isn't there at all! Benevolence and hope, if my reading is correct, make up the sum of your character — the two faculties which I most rarely find in the heads of my fellow-men.'' Father Christmas heaved a sigh of relief. "So long as I've got those I can still get along with my work. But I get so little response to them nowadays that I was beginning to fear that perhaps they were dwindling away."' And Santa Claus resumed his hood, shouldered his toy-sack, and—disappeared! When our tame phrenologist awoke, the ashes were cold in the grate. "Benevolence and Hope." he muttered, thoughtfully feeling his own head as he ascended the stairs. "Benevolence and Hope." he repeated softly, gently fingering his wife's curlpapered cranium ere climbing disconsolately into bed.