Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1913-04-11
The humanity of MuItitudes

L
heSltatlng whether to remain on
4 New York paper or to return
to Geogia, he decided to go home
because nobody in the apartment
IN which he lived could tell him
about the baby whose little white
coffin was carried side by side
with him down the steps of the
adjoining apartment. The in
humanity of cities" overwhelmed
him. How many of us have had
similar experience?
In one of the large apartment
houses in which l have lived on
the West Side, my front door,
when it swung open, touched
the front door of my next door
neighbor, didided from me only
by a thin wall of less than half
foot. One morning, on going
out, met d pleasant-faced man
emerging from this door. We
exchanged the casual salutation
of housemates. This we repeat
ed on several occasions, in a
casual way. | never knew his
name.
One morning, about six weeks
later, l asked the elevator boy
what hsd become of the man.
He died two weeks ago." was
the response, and his body was
taken out after nightfall and
carried to the cemetery
Here was this man, who, by
every law of life and every creed
of Christianity, was my neighbor
my nearest neiehbor. l could
almost hear him breathe at night
through the intervening wall.
And yet, he had sickened, he
had suffered, he had gone through
the agony or travail of death.
He had been carried out in his
midnight casket to the grave and
his family had come back to the
anguish and desolation of an un.
speakable bereavement.
And l who was this mans
neighbor" had neither minister
ed to his suffering in life, stood
by him in the hour and article of
death, nor comforted the crown
ing sorrow of those who came
back to his broken and desolate
home-just withiug a foot of the
life and love and laughter of my
own-because in the rush of our
big world l did not know.
L have never gotten oyer that
incident. never will. Some
thing ought to be done about it.
If something could be done.
We paw fierce price for the
JOY of cities. Too many people
make any one person unimpor-
tant. Great crowds dwarf and
minify individuals. In the multi
tudes we forgot each other too
often in life and in death.
When man dies among two
or three in little community, it
is tragedy. 1t darkeneds the
sky, it shadows the spirit, it
bows the head in reverence and
humility and sympathy.
But when one dies among five
millions, the little gap made by
the passing of the atom closes
up so quickly from the mighty
mass that it is difficult to remem-
Der that the atom ever lived or
even died.
From whic 1 came to say that
the cities are not much of a place
for old people or people who die.
They should find a softer and
simpler life and a quieter place
In which to enact the last great
agedy of life, which is death.
l would like to like in a great
city all my vigorous life.
But | would like to grow old
and die in the little country town
where the neigh bors would come
to ask after me in the last days,
follow me kindly to the church,
yard, when l was gone, and come
back for a little tender touch of
comfort to those who were left
behind.
| Is it not well now and then to
halt this mad rush of living, and
give space to a little breathing
time of CHI arity and tenderness
tor those who die?--John Temple
Graves, in The New York Ameri.
can.
Recommended for q Good Reason
c. Fl. Grant, 230 Waverly Street
Peoria. Ill savS. ssRa pkaphQ apC