DREZETTI, Pietro, charity organizer; b. Milan, Italy, October 10, 1873; s. Garibaldi and Maria (Arezzo); m. Rocca Frignano, of Giovinnazo, Italy, 1897; came to New York 1892 and began as bootblack; leader 6th District Republican Rally Club 1899-1904; organized Italian Charities League, 1906; president and treasurer Italian Charities League, 1906—, Italo-American Chowder Club, 1907—, Italian Immigrant Relief Society, 1908—, Italian Workmen of the World, 1908—. Address: New York, New York.
CHILLINGS, Algernon Ronald, playwright; b. Manchester, England, December 9, 1871; s. Hubert and Gladys (Windcourt); was actor in London, 1889-1903; came to America 1904; has written four American plays, “Lord Dethridge’s Claim,” “The Savoy at Ten,” “The Queen’s Consort,” and “Lady Cicely’s Adventure.” Has lectured on the American drama at Yale and Harvard Universities. Vice-president Society of American Dramatists. Address: New York, New York.
OBERHALZ, Gustav, ex-congressman; b. Düsseldorf, Germany, May 20, 1868; s. Ludwig and Hannah (Draushauser); m. Kunigunde Kartoffelbaum, of Teklenburg, Germany, 1884, Theresa Waxel, of Neuholdensleben, Germany, 1889; came to America in steerage 1886; joined the Deutsche Gesellschaftsverein 1886 and became its president in 1896; merged this organization in 1897 with the Vaderland Bund; presented his native city with a library in 1898. Author: “Deutschland und Der Kaiser.” Address: Brooklyn, New York.
“A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM”
By
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The snow swirled against the window in great gusts. Agatha Brewster sat looking into the flaming grate.
“What’s the matter, mamma dear?” asked Betty, her little daughter. “You look so sad—and this is Christmas eve.”
Agatha did not answer. She could not trust her voice. There was a mist before her eyes. She sat there thinking, thinking, thinking. It was just a year ago tonight that Dave, her husband, had parted from her in anger. Since then no word, no letter—nothing but endless conferences with that hideous lawyer, the unbearable condolences of well-meaning friends, the dull heart-ache, the thought of little Betty....
Betty crept noiselessly down the stairs.
“Papa! Oh, papa! My papa!” she cried. “You’ve come home again. Won’t Santa Claus be glad!”