The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1900-05-19
HAT OF FANCY STRAW FOR EVERYDAY WEAR.

speare but of that she will say little
as yet. so
Corelli, as you may know, is one OF
| the prettiest of living writer's. She has
! sunny hair, blue eyes and very fail
| skin. Her teeth are veritable poets
! pearls.
Marie is an Italian, but of the Vene-
| tan type, which is always very fair.
Writing on the birthday of Shakes
peare to some friends, she said:
! Cool and cloudy spring weather
ushered in the day of days, the birth
! day and deathday of the greatest poet
in the world. The silver-toned bells OF
| Holy Trinity Church began to ring at
sunrise, reminding us all that in this
very town, so quaint, so quiet, so de-
lightfully removed from the modern
rush and crush of our latter-day So
ciety, was born, 366 years ago, Eng
lands supreme genius.
Here, amid the simplest, sweetest
associations, was passed the childhood
and boyhood of Shakespeare, whose in
-vincible name will keep England great
when all her conquering and CONNER
cial glory shall have passed away in
the deep time distances to come. One
, could draw many pictures. Here he,
like his own ProsperO, when the dim
hour clothed in black drew near broke
his magic wand and set the delicate
Ariel of his imagination free.
And in these days of materialism
and prose it IS an inspiring sight to see
the good folk of Stratford setting aside
other business to pay homage to the
memory of their famous townsman,
forgetting themselves and their daily
cares in solemn reverence to the life
that all the muses. endowed with gifts
of grace.
Flags are flying, banners f1uttering
all over town. The scent of hyacinths,
violets and primroses is sweet on the
air; the singing birds, which are nu-
merous in and about Stratford. are
caroling in full chorus, irresistibly
calling TO mind the delicious lines:
"'Under the green wood tree,
Who loves to lie with me
And tune his merry note.
Unto the sweet birds throat?'
Winter and rough weather are gone
for the present, not soon to return, we
hope, and in Stratford we are all at our
brightest and best. Swarms of stran-
gers, chiefly Americans, roam through
the picturesque streets of the town,
most of them bending their steps in
one direction, toward the beautiful
church and its sacred shrine, the fam
Gus stone bearing the famous blessing
and curse in one which covers all that
was mortal Of England's poet king.
IAN impressive ceremony was held
at the church this afternoon, when the
Mayor. the trustees of Shakespeare
birthplace. members of the Shake
speare Club and various Populations
from schools came to lay their floral
tributes on the grave. The vicar re-
ceived each wreath separately from
the donors hands and set them in
place, while 9Th great taste and feel
ing the organist played on the mag
nifcent organ Lowland's fine old air,
THE Legend of the Avon and. the. Light
of Love-, the traditional melody sup
posed to have been Shakespeare's ia
vorite song.
'oThe town is crowded. but not with
notabilities No fashionable folk are
here Lord Wolseley was staying at
the Trevelyans a few days ago, but
they have left. 1t was rather curious
tossee the. COMMUNICATIVE Chief of the
British army wandering about the
memorial, perchance thinking to him
self that the ZEN is mightier than the
sword.
Tonight the plax--the plays the