b'THE GREATEST GIFT BY PHILIP VAN DOREN STERNWITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS The little town straggling up the hill was bright with colored Christmas lights. But George Pratt did not see them. He was leaning over the railing of the iron bridge, staring down moodily at the black water. The current eddied and swirled like liquid glass, and occasionally a bit of ice, detached from the shore, would go gliding downstream to be swallowed up in the shadows under the bridge.The water looked paralyzingly cold. George wondered how long a man could stay alive in it. The glassy blackness had a strange, hypnotic effect on him. He leaned still farther over the railingtoo large for that and not the rightwater and shuddered.I wouldnt do that if I were you, ashape. It was a salesmans sample kit, George decided distastefully. The fellowWell, if you know so much about me, quiet voice beside him said. George said, give me just one good was probably some sort of peddler, the George turned resentfully to a little mankind who would go around poking hisreason why I should be alive. he had never seen before. He was stout,sharp little nose into other peoplesThe little man made a queer chuckling well past middle age, and his roundaffairs. sound. Come, come, it cant be that cheeks were pink in the winter air asbad. Youve got your job at the bank. though they had just been shaved. Looks like snow, doesnt it? the stranger said, glancing up appraisingly atAnd Mary and the kids. Youre healthy,Wouldnt do what? George askedthe overcast sky. Itll be nice to have ayoung, andsullenly. white Christmas. Theyre getting scarceAnd sick of everything! George cried.What you were thinking of doing.these daysbut so are a lot of things.Im stuck here in this mudhole for life, He turned to face George squarely. Youdoing the same dull work day after day.How do you know what I wasall right now? Other men are leading exciting lives, but thinking?Of course Im all right. What made youIwell, Im just a small-town bank clerkOh, we make it our business to know athink I wasnt? I, George fell silentthat even the army didnt want. I never lot of things, the stranger said easily. before the strangers quiet gaze. did anything really useful or interesting, and it looks as if I never will. I might just George wondered what the mansThe little man shook his head. Youas well be dead. I might better be dead. business was. He was a mostknow you shouldnt think of suchSometimes I wish I were. In fact, I wish unremarkable little person, the sort youthingsand on Christmas Eve of allId never been born! would pass in a crowd and never notice.times! Youve got to consider MaryUnless you saw his bright blue eyes, thatand your mother too.The little man stood looking at him in is. You couldnt forget them, for theythe growing darkness. What was that were the kindest, sharpest eyes youGeorge opened his mouth to ask howyou said? he asked softly. ever saw. Nothing else about him wasthis stranger could know his wifesI said I wish Id never been born, noteworthy. He wore a moth-eaten oldname, but the fellow anticipated him.George repeated firmly. And I mean it fur cap and a shabby overcoat that wasDont ask me how I know such things.too. stretched tightly across his paunchyIts my business to know em. Thats belly. He was carrying a small blackwhy I came along this way tonight. LuckyThe strangers pink cheeks glowed with satchel. It wasnt a doctors bagit wasI did too. He glanced down at the darkexcitement. Why thats wonderful! 18AMERICAN BLUES THEATER'