The Paducah evening sun., 1909-05-15

Bunting of red and white draping
residence and store--the flag of the
Stars and Bars flung TO the breeze
visitors from far and near thronging
the streets-music and marching
and singing. what is IL all about
To some it is that a city rises VI
to do honor TO one of her sons, an
intrepid leader, an high souled man
Others, who marched beneath those
flags, but whose only uniform oi
grey now is that of honor upor
which streaks their hair. these are
today living over in memories com
pany the days long past. Children
of the southland. we are thinking OF
those OF our own who bore the brunt
of the. fighting, mayhap gave their
very lives for the cause they loved.
and we rise up to do them honor
Children of the northland. we are
rejoicing that the love and devotion
and sacrifice and patriotism. the
heroism. the lofty aim and magnifi-
cent endeavor, were those of our
brothers. and pride fills our beasts
and love our hearts. The Spectator
saw button of the loyal legion of
the north today flanked with the red
and white of the south upon a vet
eran's breast, and rejoiced to see the
day.
Yes. II is all good, we honor
ourselves in honoring them, we are
better for. the good that was theirs.
But the celebration brings other
thoughts too to the Spectators mind.
Whose was the initiative of the day
we keep, whose the idea we are
carrying out; woman's. And what
part had she in those days? While
the boys in grey and the boys in
blue were suffering the hardships
of the long marches, the burning
heat and biting cold, days of hunger
and of thirst. days of suffering from
wounds Yin hospital and camp. the
horror of the battle and all the hell
of war. what of the women? They
of finer fiber, more keen to feel and
sensitive to suffer, theirs was the
lot to sit still and agonize, to suffer
without the help of enthusiastic
hosts rushing mayhap to death
under floating banner and to rat
tling drum and shrilling fife or
bugle call. To agonize and sit still.
to think and do nothing, to think,
and think. all through the long day
of privation nobly borne, all through
the nights of agony when the eyes
!, stared at the ceiling through the
: hours when sleep was far away. and
the loved ones were oh so near, near
to the loving heart though far away
on some bivonac or in the turmoil of
some fight. Tears that fell upon
the lint and bandages, the making
of which was all she could do. life
lagony packed into the pasket or box
that she sent to the front for her
loved ones comfort. agony OF the
bullet that stopped not in the breast
of the man IL was laying low to
earth. but sped on it's way to death
and buried itself in her heart, who
was not allowed to die. but had to
live and suffer-this. all this, and
more was woman's part.
| rtnu tOu0yf III htl 1ANAht hha'AAloh"
ness. she rises up to do honor TO the
men to whom honor is due, to raise
the statue of bronze and granite to
their memory. And il is well. Il is
the tragedy and the pathos and the
heavenliness of the ages, the ''swige
weibliche." the eternal womanly. No
granite and bronze is here, but to
know that never a cause prospered
that was worth the prospering, never
an advance made toward the light
that was worth the making. never
an upward lift of humanity, except
that behind il and beneath II and
around ii. was the self sacrifice. the
brimming eye but ministering hand,
the gentle touch from the agonized
heart. and women, whose only privi-
lege IL was to suffer and smile, to
sacrifice in silence. to forget self that
she might remember another, to
think not of self when all is over
but the memory that she might cher
ish that memory.
Granite and bronze to the men
who fought, more love and thought
fulness and tenderness and thankful
ness to the women who could only
suffer.