St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1894-03-25

knocked, "stay OUT
How are you tonight" he asked.
SOW it's you, is it, Tottie called out, cow
are We, me beauty?'
pretty we'll y, know" said Ned, "sent We
some vi'iets- -!
I'm as modest as q yi,let, y know.
I'm that shoy, y know
lily, too, y understand, quite the thing,
y know"
"Gow awoy now,' Tottie reiterated, "me
turns comm. Wen him finished we'll Cow
and stoke up, me beauty
Very obediently Ned wandered round to the
front of the house and took seat in one of
the upper boxes. He was not much sur
prised to see his fat and horsey friend there.
''She's in great form tonight, - he remarked
els she?" Jimmie said with touch of envy
''Why don't We ask q fellow to go along and
pick the bones?"
''Toss ye for the supper and it's DONE" said
Ned.
Done" said Jimmie and as the other spun
coin on his knee he called heads.
son me" said Ned, "get some other people
and come along
While his friend was about this business
Ned gave his attention to the stage. Was
not Miss Kickham on? One could tell that
by the unusual animation; even the orches-
ira began to perk up. Ay, she was there, q
plump woman of forty, in yellow wig, gor-
geous long frock of many colors and wide
Gainsborough hat. AS she sang the song of
the vi'let, which-as you may have gathered
was notably shy, she did few dance steps
and swayed and postured with vigor that
displayed all the plentitudes of forty years
They were cheering and clapping for another
song. when an usher came scuttling down
the aisle, carrying Neds basket of violets,
with one great, palid lily nodding in the CEN
tire. 1t was handed across the footlights and
Miss Tottie snufed it and cooed and sung
another song.
A four-wheeler bore them away to supper.
There were Ned and Totte and Jimmie and
young lady who played seventeen musical
instruments. They were all smoking cigar
cites and the smoke fiuttered like flags from
the cab-windows. Jimmie was singing as they
drove up to restaurant off Broadway. Ned
was fighting, unsuccessfully, with Miss Tot
tie for kiss. The Kickham was muscularly
coy. The struggle continued after the cab
stopped: it was carried on loosely on the
sidewalk. Miss Tottie had pinned the great
white lily on her breast. Just as they en-
tered the doorway Ned threw one arm round
her and captured his kiss-a powdery.
grease-p panty kiss it was-but the lily was
brushed off and fell unregarded to the side
walk.
The emblem of purity lay there waiting for
some chance passer-by to tread it under foot.
"Let us learn from these flowers said the
Rev. DR.. Goodman, touching gently with his
f1per fingers, the lilies that decked the pulpit
that Easter morning, blossoms of humility
and patience. They are born and they die.
but not before they have spread the fragrance
OF meek, pure, beautiful lives. Let us who
are OF His household, carry into the world
the fragrance of lives as pure and beautiful.
AS you know, my brethren, it is our custom
to send the flowers which have graced the
altar on this natal day to the hospitals, that
their beauty may charm away few moments
of pain and suffering. Let US remember it
was for this, too, we have been made white
that we may carry succor to suffering hu-
mainly and bear light and hope to those who
go in darkness
Softly the great organ droned like far away
baS-pipes; then gathering strength it burst
into stormy anthem of halleluiahs and
praise. The people filed decently out of
church Onlya few remained. They stripped
the altar and pulpit of the flowers. Basket
fuls were sent to the different hospitals. On
the top of one basket, among tufts of moss.
violets and roses, lay the great, white lily,
which had pointed the preachers moral. 1t
was languid, istless, neurotic. This basket
was carried to hospital in Forty-second
street. 1t is Manufactured, red building,
with two bullying half-towers. The little
newsboy at the corner has notion. vague
and not very valid, that it is grim, red
monster, fed on the little crippled wretches
he sees enter there. For they never come
out. Year after year there has been this IN
happy procession of MANNED and crippled
children, passing through the iron gates into
the great building. The small newsboy Won
ders what becomes of them. He never sees
them come out. How is he to recognize in
the merry, red-checked things who come
dancing out the little wretches who hobbled
i'll wailing? Or those driven darby away in
the small black boxes?
Sad? Even a listless lily, oppressed with
nostalgia for dwarf roses, could hardly find
it sad on Easter morning. The morning
sun, beating through the broad windows.