The Washington times., 1911-06-19
THE FIRST CITIZENS SILVER
WEDDING.


ness found eloquent expression when,
on the death of the Prince Consort, the
widowed Queen and Empress exclaimed
with simple pathos: There is no one
left to call me Victoria now"
So far as a Chief Magistrate can
divest himself at any time of his off
cial character, President Taft will cele-
brate tonight, in the capacity of citi-
zen, husband, and father, the silver
anniversary of his wedding to the wife
of his youth. For the time being he
has laid aside the cares of state, which
so often make exalted station 5ut a
glistening grief, a golden sorrow. Five
thousand friends, bound to him by per-
sonal rather than official ties, will
gather about him as the afternoon
deepens into twilight, and darkness, in
turn, bursts into auroral splendor.
They have come, not as guests at rou-
tine function such as a rigid etiquette
prescribes. They come as fellow citi-
zens to felicitate him at, the end of
five and twenty years of that mutual
love and domestic peace by which man
''redoubles his joys and cuts his griefs
in half
Testimonials of esteem-m -marvels
which Demetrius the silversmith
might have wrought in the noontide
of Asiatic art-have been pouring in
from every quarter of the country
upon the happy couple. The wizardry
of electric skill, the opulence of rare
and fragrant flowers, the masters of
music have been called into requisition
to impart the glamour of fairyland to
the white simplicity and green luxu-
rianee of the First Citizens official
home. But dearer to him than the
masterworks of the silversmith are
the memories which the anniversary
recalls; more radiant than the festival
splendor around him is the steadfast
flame which lights the inner shrine of
love and loyalty. Sharing the prestige
of today as they shared the joys and
sorrows along the highway which led
to this proud eminence, they have
reached the summit of earthly honors.
First among equals nder our
democratic form of government, they
enjoy a distinction to which the pomp
and circumstance of sovereignty is but
an empty show. ~
And yet amidst it all memory wan
ders. back to that happy day in June,
quarter of century ago, when love
reached its rich fulfillment, and, lost in
contemplation of the perfect compan-
ionship which has survived all chance
and change, they feel gratitude be-
yond all words, that. amidst so much
of pageantry, they have each other still.
The Times extends its heartiest good
will. 1t is but roseleaf in wilder
ness of fowers-a reed-note in the
general symphony. But we would wish
| IHPSe Mtuucu lONCl5 Oh OhCAl liz" anu
mellower honeymoon to know that it
is no perfunctory tribute. 1t is in
stinct with the warmth and candor of
esteem which properly belong to the
devoted husband whose official burdens
have not impaired his domestic virtues.
1t is fresh and spontaneous with sim
cere admiration for the gracious woman
whose duties as First Lady of the
Land have but confirmed her primacy
in the heart with which she linked her
own so long ago.
1t is not the hectic flush of memory,
but youth itself, which glows in their
happy faces as they revive the scenes
of that bridal June, for Love is the
only alchemy and domestic happiness
the surest agency to stay the flight
of time.
The tabled fount. by Leon sought,
This side the stormy main,
Lay like a fond dream, fairy wrought,
At his own sweet hearth in Spain.