The Washington herald., 1916-04-07

~ desert all her life wrote a
Z quaint little letter to me the
other day, the last paragraph OF
which sounded bit wistfuL
Sometimes in the long, hot nights
1 dream that the snow Sits down
and makes everything cool, beautiful
and white. / have never seen the
snow, Miss Piekford, except in NOV
ing pictures, but when l close my
eyes imagine that if 1 put my hand
out it would close over a sparkling
SNOWFALL and that these tiresome
miles and miles of cactus are all
dressed in shimmering, snowy party
gownsl
What fun it must be! Do you
skate or do you ride in sleigh, and
do they have bells on the horses
harness? l always imagine it would
not be half as much fun sleighing if
it were not for the jingle bells my
mother has often told me about. Do
write US of the snow, Miss Pick
ford"
l do not think we boys and girls
in the snow countries appreciate how
really beautiful the snow is, after all.
and how much pleasure it brings into
our lives. Though it inconvenience
US at times, how we would miss it if
Dame Nature whisked it away and
carried it to the hot, thirsty deserts.
When I was a little girl, always
imagined that the good Mother OF
Winter was making up her beds, lay
ing the white sheets down upon the
earth. When it was showing, /
thought she was shaking out her pill
lows and the white swansdown
feathers were falling. When the
thsnder came, she was cross be-
cause we had complained about her
feather bed, saying that we did not
like to see it lying across our mead
ows, covering up all the grass and
flowers which would bloom again for
Us in the springtime.
In New York, the snow is not al
ways so attractive, except in the lit
tie parks or in Central Park, which
becomes, after a snowstorm, a gilt
tering ice palace; shining like dia-
monds and opals in the sun.
Look at the snowhakes clingins
to the branches" we cry as we drive
through the park. Don't they look
like little crystal butterflies flutter-
ing on a marble limb?"
See those rosy-cheeked Young.
stersP some one else remarks.
And plump! There goes a fat
lady on the iceF" we all Shrek with
laughter. "Oh, I'll bet she's a eros.
siel'
at seems to me the women are
prettier this year than ever, or is il
the style of the furs?" inquiries a
cynical young man, as he glances
around.
at is the women, of course" re-
plies the old Beau Brummel, who al
ways has an alert eye for feminine
beauty and charm.
And then, away from this sparkle
and promise, thousands of unemploy-
ed men exc out an existence, support
themselves and often their great lit
tie families-because of the snowl
1t is gratifying to New Yorkers to
tie story of wealthy New Yorker
who, every winter, was known to
walk through the little Madison
know that the statistics have proved
less unemployed labor this year when
the call to shovels came, and the line
Of men eager for the days employ
ment of shoveling snow from the
streets is not so long nor so crowded
as 1t has been in the last few years.
Even the reports from the mu-
nicipal lodging houses state that dur
ing. this winter they haven't had to
build up the extra beds for homeless
men, women and children as they
have in winters past.
And now there comes to me a lit
Square Park where dozens OF poor.
unsheltered men and women sought
refuge.
Not only would he give to them
himself, but it soon became his habit
to stop the passersby and take a col
lection from them, impressing upon
them the needs of these people and
promising that from HE oI.y,, ,oeI-a1