Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1917-08-29
ROSES and TEARS
Greet WOUNDED
Busy London Strand Hats
When AmbuIanCss Arrive.
ENGLAND GRIM, DETERMINED

light and In the Gloom Of Night, When
Millions Fin Through parksnsd Lon
don, Comes Picture More Tragic
Than Any Dramatist Can Write.
Tears for the living, tears for the
dead, show the aching hearts today In
the Merrie England o. former years
tears for those who are leaving, tears
for those who will never return. tears
for those who are home again, SCARED
and MANNED by the fires Of death.
England weeps unashamed as she
fights unafraid. Tenderness for the
manhood she Is sacrificing brings bit
terness for the foe that Is destroying
1t. Tears that come from gentle hearts
leave void filed by the iron Of hate.
A nation once laughing and care free
now Is fearful and determined, says
Junius B. Wood. writing in the Chica-
60 Daily News.
All London Now Changed.
II wonder whether London win ever
be the same happy, thoughtless city it
was In the old days." said British
army captain one day as our train roll
ed through the parklike country with
the tiny green fields, winding lanes
and matched stone houses.
His name was famous wherever the
union jack waves, just as are those of
Mathewson, Wagner and Cobb under the
Stars and Stripes, for he was one of
England's famous cricketers and had
played In every part Of the globe where
the British game has followers Just
as lie had played for the national hon
or on the field Of sport, he was fighting
for it on the field of battle.
Its the same buckle up and face
the ball. for British spirit never dies,
but the smiles. the laughter and the
music are gone" was the way he
phrased it.
Tears well from the eyes Of gray
haired mothers in black, from the
stern faced soldiers back for breath
Of home after the months Of fighting.
from pale young eyes Of British blue.
Along the Strand, favorite Of topical
song. the stream OF humanity never
ceases. Twice each day, afternoon
and evening, it halts as the ambu-
lances slowly make their way to his
toric Charing Cross station, just off
Trafaicar square. One ambulance at
the station draws the curious. This is
not one, but a hundred or more, SOM
Der gray vans marked with red NAL
tese crosses. filing the long. billy road
way at the station side.
A train Is coming from the coast
bringing the wounded, and only few.
from the fields of France. On a train
shed platform, side by side and end to
end. the stretchers are spread. cover
ing it with a mantle of tan canvas
The hurrying station crowd stops.
Some were elbowing to gates for coun-
tryside homes, some arriving from
lands beyond the seas, others bidding
fearful farewell to loved ones, healthy
and strong, leaving for the front on
long trains from opposite platforms
| to the grim symbols of the future
Homecoming, if there be homecom-
| ing. The train glides silently to a
stop, wni.e oiau nus. ~ eaen ~
along It's sue .he ain ou'"nre ~,
pieh up .nei' a.
mainly ~ 10 ue ."iiieu way,
part vi every uas roo''ne ~ ,o ., a.
as regular as lne l"ieu uany ","' -
any OF the ioovu sii,ah to"ns IN ~
nome country. Inc MS. nnou
loaded ana roi's OUT Vi 'ne S'"''o"'
Whom the Vans Arrive.
| 1t was only narrow lane through
the crowded station courtyard and
down the bustIing Strand. hushed for
the time save for the stified sobs for
| those who will not return, those who
have gone or others who In their young
manhood are to go. Another follows,
| then another. each one brings thou
| sand heartaches.
Under the first archway stood chit