Bridgeton pioneer., 1917-09-06
ROSES and TEARS
Greet WOUNDED
Busy London Strand HaIts
When AmbuIanCeS Arrive.
ENGLAND GRIM, DETERMINED

light and In the Gloom of Night, When
Millions Fit Through Darkened 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 of 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
it. Tears that come from gentle hearts
leave a 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-
so Daily News.
All London Now Changed.
II wonder whether London will ever
be the same happy, thoughtless city 1t
was In the old days." said a British
army captain one day as our train roll
ed through the parklike country with
the tiny green fields, winding lanes
and thatched stone houses.
4 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
Englands famous cricketers and had
played III every part Of the globe where
the British game has followers Just
as he 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 a 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 of
Trafalgar square. One ambulance al
the station draws the curious This is
not one, but hundred or more, som,
Der gray vans marked with red Nal
tese crosses, filing the long, hilly 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 train
shed platform, side by side and end tc
end, the stretchers are spread, cover
ing it with 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 Oh
long trains from opposite platforms
TO the grim symbols Of the future
homecoming, if there be a homecom,
ing. The train glides silently to a
stop, white clad nurse in each door
along its side, the ambulance orderlies
pick up their stretchers Wrecked hu
manity is to be carried away. 1t is
part of every days routine in London
as regular as the twice daily mail ir
any Of the 10000 small towns in oui
home country. The first ambulance is
loaded and rolls out Of the station.
When the Vans Arrive.
1t was only narrow lane through
the crowded station courtyard and
down the bustling Strand, hushed fol
the time save for the stifled sobs fol
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 a thou
sand heartaches.
Under the first archway stood chit
81 girl. A cheap ribbon was the only
ornament on her little hat, the lace or
her waist of frayed lavender silk was
torn, her spindly shanks were set in
soiled white boots with heels of ludic
rous height. The little purse she open
sed held a big English penny and only
one. "a rose for a penny" said the
flower woman, and the last penny went
for a red rose. Some had bought
dozens, others had armfuls.
She ran behind one Of the gray am
balances slowly picking its way
Through the human lane. A skinny
arm flashed in lace and lavender ani
The rose fell inside. Tears streakeG
The little rouged cheeks as she faded
INTO the crowd. Others threw theil
isafmfuls. For every ambulance there
FTsere.noses. Sometimes In the shadowy
ffnferfor "a &and would wave Occa
sionaify one would feebly try to rise
1t vpas home again in England aftel
the hell Of war. Usually only a nurse
would gratefully nod In appreciation
Cor those too weak to answer.
Twice each day, in the bright sun