Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1916-05-17

LETT her plunged in grief. A year after,
the dead girls birthday came around,
and the day before the anniversary
happened to meet my friend on the
street. We went to tea together.
did not speak to the absent one, but
suddenly, as we sat quietly gazing out
of the window, the girl began to talk.
Margaret" she said, something
has been bothering me. I want to ask
you If I'm doing right
Perhaps won't help any. I'm not
SO good at advice-but go on
You see, it's this way" she told me.
Tomorrow is Alice's birthday-the
first birthday when we haven't been
together for ten years. I had earned
i've dollars-it seemed more personal
that way-and I was going to buy
flowers for her grave. I was just on
my way to the florist to order them
when met q woman know-a WON,
an who used to wash for us. Mar.
garet, you should have seen her. Her
eyes were large and black and her
cheeks were perfectly hollow. I asked
her what was the matter, and she said
she was hungry. Hungry? She was
starving! And SO were the three chill
dren that belonged to her! Well, I
told her that would find some work
for her today, and then I gave her all
the money I had. It was only after
she had left me that I remembered
Alice's flowers-I can't get them now.
Do you think that she'll mind-very
much?'
"M1nd?" CROPPED blindly for words.
mind? Of course not! She would
be glad and thankful If she only
knew
Do you think so too, friends of mine?
One day this week I felt rather blue
and unhappy. 1t was a dark, gloomy
day, with biting wind coming around
the bleak corners and a heavy rain
that fell drenchingly to the ground
a steady downpour Of big splashing
drops. Somehow the world inside my
office seemed very lonely and gray. I
had a headache, my work had been
going badly and I was rather discour-
aged. When the mail came ina big
package of letters to be opened-I was
not much cheered. But my special
guardian angel was on duty that day.
When cut the first envelope, found
a plain little letter, written in pencil
on cheap paper, by an unknown lady,
old enough to be my grandmother.
But the words, lightly written in an
old -fo hon foil
heart like ray Of golden sunshine,
through the grayness of the rain.
Dear Friend" read the letter, II
have been seeing your pieces in the
Christian Herald for some time, and
I made up my mind to write to you.
Some people believe in keeping their
kind words and their flowers and their
love until a person is dead. But
don't. I want you to know, right now,
that you've cheered me up lots of
times, and that I like your stories and
that like you"
Now, [ don't want you to think that
| I am disappearing of Decoration day.
| The world is stupid enough and mat
| ter-of-fact enough to forget easily the
heroes who lie in our cemeteries. But
we should consider the living, too. Let
us place roses over the little green
mounds, but don't let US overlook the
pleading child-hands that are stretched
out for their sweetness. While we
honor the memory of those beautiful
spirits that have passed from us, let
US not forget the living, breathing
souls that need our help.
1t is not necessary to save all the
flowers, the kind words and the kisses
until lips and hearts and minds are
cold and dead.-Margaret e. Sangster,
Jr., in the Christian Herald.