The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-07-27

Sometimes we the poor deject- ed looking old women on the street some of them have something to sell they are all making an effort to earn their living. The scene Is distress dimes fall their way each day; there ie vacancy in their lives, a something gone out that money cannot buy.
 They all give a reason for their plight 1t usually is charged to some one else--but the condition Is the same. They are lonely wanderers on the high way, and we little know where they find their beds at night.
 Some have children in other states. others claim their last one gone'- you canndt but pity them and want to do something to change their condi4 tlon-but they like their job They have become hardened to the sights of the world. they want to be In the throngs, and they care not for the critics eye. They have almost lost the human side of their life, and verify love the sadness. Old age, grown up from tender years to the weary, worn and Respondent state Is a great ex- pression of the wreck of time, the sad decline of days that promised diff ferent fate.
 These poor old souls should give a  Ing their hours, who are making the best of their time, not cultivating home and the love of 1t; the adaptability to the folks with whom they have to live. The old folks fight institutions, they crave independence more than tho younger ones, and they imagine they gain 1t by standing out among the crowds with few articles for the price of dime What a plight-but they have only misapplied their ener- gles-there Is no conscience eating their souls away-only the lack of money.
 The sad story of the girl from the pen of Allen Krebs recalls the words of an old woman we know. Knew her in her days of young womanhood and had seen her throw those days away We met her ragged, dejected and knowing no friend on earth--she had wasted her life in sin and had shat tered other hopes. and she told us the story so pitifully we have tried to put 1t in verse The effort may be poor but the subject may appeal to others who would dare be tempted--the way yard girl
 Yes. I am a very old woman. my child.
 have grown so mid sorrow and pain. am asking today for things worth while,
 For the hand of my loved ones again. have felt their close touch in my life.
 Have known of their love and their care Have wandered mid want even strife.
 Of their horrors I've had full share. wandered. a girl. from the path.
 Life mother. father and friend Reached out into life full of thistl8s and
 hath
 Stopped on the way to the end. Wanted to open the long closed door.
 Held wide in the home when I came. Have stood on the steps and waited. oh.
 Prayed. for that welcome again. That step. e'en 1t faltered. as pressed on
 the stone
 My frame fairly trembled with fear. Even the body, grown up in the bounty.
 its own
 Felt a culver as 1t fingered near. left that home girl full of love and
 of joy,
 I sprang with a leap from it's shade. And beheld 1t today as a castaway toy
 And wept OCT the graves have made. Think ye. there's no longing for rest.
 For a home, eternal again. I've thrown away life at its best
 And lived, yes. lived 1t in vain. You shrink as tell you my story.
 You believe me. am sure, when l say I'd give every ounce of vain glory
 To be just a girl again, cen day. I'd make of myself woman,
 The best and purest and strong.