The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-08-29


wonder if the vox populi vox Del isn't
fraud and, after all, the workings of the
world are by a few.
The architect of the Grant tomb must
have been poet. What a triumph to Gre
ate structure which, instead of calling at
tention to itself only tells the story of the
plain American hero! What a triumph to
create an immutable epic in stonel Even
the new, hideously yellow inn across the
way, where sarsaparilla will be sold, failed
to mar the beauty of Grants tomb. What
were the thoughts of the nice, human look
ing young man and young woman who
rode up to the wide esplanade on their
wheels? Anyway, the young woman read
aloud the notice:
BICYCLES NOT ALLOWED ON
THE MONUMENT WALKS.
Then she exclaimed:
I'D like to know if we are to leave our
wheels way off here while we go in?"
I'VE might leave them at one of those
refreshment booths in the side street. sug-
gested the young man.
We'll, if L can't take my wheel to the
door Grant will have to go without his
coffin being seen by me-" snapped ma selle,
and they rode on.
Morningside heights are illustrative, elo-
quent of colossal magnifcently shabby
New York. Dingy horse cars creep along
past the refined and stately new buildings
of Columbia University. Beautiful build
ings erected in perfect taste and dinky
little horse cars owned by a prosperous
corporation. Then there is the vast pile of
buff brick and white marble, with windows
like cathedral and cleaning floors like
capitol-St. Luke's Hospital eloquent of
modern humanitarianism whereby, if
man starves for lack of opportunity to
work, he starVes but if, perchance, his leg
is crushed by beer truck in the street he
is transported on air cushions into the lofty
palace of dream And, hard by, is Mike
OFlaherty's Riverside saloon" where
multitudinous flies feast on the dregs of
bad beer. New York beer is always bad.
And. in wears to come the Cathedral of
ST John the Divine will add to the glories
of Morningside heights Meanwhile the
little ShantieS of honest poverty cluster
under the shadows of all this architectural
grandeur.
THE TOMB SURROUNDINGS.
Grants beautiful tomb the lividly hideous
yellow inn, stately Columbia University,
Mike O'Flaherty's saloon, gorgeous st.
Luke's Hospital, the little shanties, the
bold, wide boulevards the Cathedral of St.
John the Divine and the dinky little horse
cars. Morningside heights are character
istic of New York. Grants tomb is like a
jewel, a rare jewel. What could be more
sublime than the simple inscription on the
facade of this patriotic temple, Let US
have peace!'
1t was easy to picture the groups passing
in and out of the great bronze doors as
worshpers at the shrine of patriotism.
They evidently came from far and near,
many carrying travelling bags. No uni
formed guard in solemn state, or furs and
feathers, patroled before the doors. In
stead, an old gentleman. the unostentatious
caretaker of the shrine, ambed about
dressed in a dirty undershirt and overalis.
Inside the lofty dome was white spotless,
translucent, so delicate that the light from
the gray, quiet sky seemed to filter like
a holy nimbus through the walls. The
sculptured allegorical figures high up,
overlooking the crypt, were as canoes
amid the white translucence. The interior
of this fame seemed not solemn like an
echoing, grim cathedral-rather like the in
terror of a gigantic but delicate jewel
But, during the coming and going of the
visitors-the stream of worshipers at the
shrine-only one man uncovered, and he
was bicyclist in green plaid knicker
bockers. A gray-haired, bronzed man
seemed really affected and strobe about
nervously. Perhaps he was one of Grants
soldiers? But, alas! all this gray-haired,
bronzed man mumbled TO the park police
man on guard was: Where's the Gus
pidor?"
The policeman said he had heard funnier
things than that. Only a little While ago a
young man wished to know to whom he
should apply for the privilege of selling re-
freshments to visitors, having been struck
by seeing the dearth of such accommoda-
tons He said he would erect a booth like
a miniature of the mausoeum so as to be
in good taste with the environments.
Two girls leaned pensiVelY over the black
marble railing surrounding the crypt
wherein reposed the ponderous sarcophagus
bearing the inscription ULYSSES S. Grant"
No crossed sabers or laurel wreath marked
the simple block of polished. dark red
The fashionng of these flowers into floral
emblems seemed out of place. Except
strewn there flowers are not in keeping
with the majesty of hewn stone and epic
architecture. What were the pensive sum-
mer girls saying? All. the red-cheeked girl
said, evidently referring to the crypt I'M
derneath:
wouldn't it make an elegant swimming
pool?"
Now came a family party. the father.
the mother the children. munching pop
corn They had lunch baskets, had prob
ably picnicked in Riverside Park and were
winding up the days outing with a look
at the tomb Plain. quiet, home-loving per
sons evidently. Picking up the small child
the father held him up so he could look
"FADDER OF THIS COUNTRY"
There's the tomb of the ladder of this
country said the man to the child. He
vos a great man"
Again the park policeman said he had
heard funnier remarks than that.
"A fierce female wearing eyeglasses"
continued the policeman. came here with
a kid She pointed with her umbrella and
said to the kid. My son, there lies a man
who smoked himself to death. Let this be
a lesson to you
Of do In
possession of naturalization papers than
the remark of the man with the German
accent, who ushered in his party and ex-
claimed, proudly: Dis is de graaf Of an
American citizen"
A Pennsylvania Railway coupe drove up.
1t contained three welL-dressed civilized
looking persons, perhaps with only a few
hours TO stay in New York which were
utilized to drive direct from the Twenty
third street ferry TO the tomb.
Where's the elevator" asked the
spokesman. They wished to go up in the
dome and were disappointed.
How stupid said the young man who
led the party, "a fine view of the Hudson
ment l had quite set my heart on this
genuinely artistic spectacle"
Then there was the party OF children
from the East Side. They came in with a
rush looking like gathering of Artist
Woolf's child figures
He was de father or Police Commissioner
Grant dat resigned said the little boy
with the shrill voice and small. monkey
like wise face, and m thinking de mayor
was glad he resigned.