White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1916-05-26
THOUGHTS ON
MEMORIAL DAY

day, the time of sobs and
tears, of prayers, and memories, and
smiles. Decoration day!
1t comes only once year. this brave
holiday, on the boundary line between
May and June, spring and summer
time. Schools give holiday and
banks close. Business is shut up, and
the tired workingman hangs a flag
out over his porch, and rests. Old
soldiers, tottering on canes, soldiers
bent and white-headed, waiting for
the last taps to be sounded, get out
their suits of blue and gray, covered
with furnished gold lace and brass
buttons, and hobble to the cemetery
to lay a wreath on some comrades
last resting place.
1t is a beautiful thing to think of a
nation celebrating a day-setting it
apart from all others-for the pur-
pose of honoring the nations heroes.
| was sitting in trolley car when
a lady entered-a woman no longer
very young, with a pale, sorrowful
face. She wore expensive black, and
her two carefully gloved hands held a
huge dewy mass of roses. Like an
oasis in a desert they filled the dusty
city air with sweetness and color In
a little while small newsboy dragged
himself up the step and presented a
grimy transfer to the conductor.
Il found it," he confided loudly to a
man seated near the door. Then he
tramped down the aisle, and climbed
up on the seat next to the lady.
Them fow'rs are SWELL" he told her
in soft, wondering tone of voice. II
never saw any like 'em BEFORE" Rev
erently he touched the nearest bios
som with moist, grimy fingers.
The lady moved down on the seat,
putting several feet of space between
herself and the small intruder.
Don't touch them!" she ordered
Grossly.
Several blocks farther on she got
out, her arms full of her fragrant bur-
den. With hating footsteps and tear
filled eyes, she turned in at great
marble-columned cemetery gate. She
was taking her roses to lay on the
grave of some loved dead one. l was
sorry for the woman; but l could not
help thinking of the little newsboy He
was very much alive, and a single
flower would have meant paradise to
him.
know girl who had very dear
friend-a friend who meant more to
her than could possibly put into
words. One day, the friend died and
left her plunged in grief. A year after,
the dead girls birthday came around,
and the day before the anniversary l
happened to meet my friend OH 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. l want to ask
you if I'm doing right
Perhaps l won't help any. I'm not
80 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. l had earned
five dollars-it seemed more personal
that way-and l was going to buy
flowers for her grave. l was just on
my way to the florist to order them
when met woman l know-a wom-
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. l 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 tc her! Well,
told her that l would find some work
for her today, and then l gave her all
the money l had. 1t was only after
she had left me that l remembered
Alice's flowers-I can't get them now.
Do you think that she'll mind-very
much?"
"Mind?" 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?