The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1916-05-27
THOUGHTS ON
MEMORIAL DAY
.A ECORATION DAY dav

" flags, and flowers, and green
grass-covered graves. Deco
ration 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
summertime. Schools give a holiday
and banks close. Business is shut
up, and the tired workingman hangs
a flag out over his porch, and rests.
Old soldiers, lettering on canes, SOL
diers bent and white headed, waiting
for the last TAPS" to be sounded, get
out their suits of blue and gray, Gov
cred with furnished gold lace and
brass buttons, and hobble to the cem.-
terry to lay wreath on some COM
rade's last resting place.
1t is beautiful thing to think of a
nation celebrating a day-setting it
apart from all others-for the purpose
of honoring the nations heroes.
| was sitting in a trolley car when
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
little while small newsboy dragged
himself up the step and presented
grimy transfer to the conductor.
81 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 flowers are swell" he tod
her in Il soft, wondering tone of voice.
81 never saw any like 'em before"
Revercntly he touched the nearest
blossom with moist, grmy fingers.
The lady moved down on the sea-,
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 frangrant
burden. With hating footsteps and
tear-fIled eyes, she turned in at
great marble columned gate. She WAS
taking her roses to lay on the grave
of some loved dead one. | was sorry
for the woman; but | could not help
thinking of the little newsboy. He
was very much alive, and single
flower would have meant paradise to
him.
know a girl who had a very dear
friend--a friend who meant more to
her than l could possibly put into
words. One day the friend died and
left her plunged in grief. A year af-
ter, the dead girls birthday came
around, and the day before the ami
versary | happened to meet my friend
on the street. We went to tea toge-
Their. | did not speak of the absent
one, but suddenly, as We sat quietly
gazing out of the window the girl be-
gan to talk.
Margaret" she said, Something
has been bothering me. want to ask
you if Pm doing right"
perhaps l 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 irthday-the
first birthday when We haven't been
together for ten years. had earned
five dollars-it seemed more personal
that way-and | was going to buy
flowers for her grave. | was just on
my way to the florist to order them
when | met woman | know-a wo-
man who used to wash for us. Mar
garet, you should have seen her. Her
eyes were large and black and her
cheeks We're perfectly hollow. 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 | gave her all
the money | had. 1t was only after
she had left me that | remembered