115 West Ninety-fifth St.

Virginia, your little friends are wrong.
They have been affected by the scepticism of
a sceptical age. They do not believe except
what they see. The think that nothing ca be
which is not comprehensible by their little minds.

All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or
children's, are little. In this great universe of
ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his
intellect, as compared with the boundless world
about him, as measured by the intelligence capable
of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause.
He exists as certainly as love and generosity and
devotion exist, and you know that they abound and
give to our life its highest beauty and joy.
Alas! how dreary would be the world if there
were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as
if there were no Virginias. There would be no
childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance, to
make tolerable this existence. We should have no
enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal
light with which childhood fills the world,
would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not
believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire
men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve
to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see
Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove?
Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign there
is no Santa Claus.

The most real things in the world are those that neither
children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies
dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no
proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive
or imagine all the wonders there are unseen
and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes
the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the
unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the
united strenght of all the strongest men that ever
lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry,
love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view
and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond.
Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there
is nothing else real and abiding.

NO Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he
lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginaia,
nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will
continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Casual Essays of the Sun


Nobody shoots at Santa Claus.
Samuel Butler

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