The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1919-05-07

has a word to say against it? If there
is, let him say that word to the first
soldier or the first sailor, or the first
marine he meets-and see what will
happen, says Annie Laurie in the San
Francisco Examiner.
The red jersey and the poke bonnet
look all. right to us here in America
today--but just think how they looked
to our boys in the trenches over there
in France when there was fighting to
do.
| fright in the very jaws of death they
went-Salvation Julia and Salvation
Tom, and all the rest Of the men and
women in the red jersey and the poke
bonnet-they brought their kettle of
hot lard straight up into the firing line
and fried away as if they were at home
| in their own kitchen, and oh, the
smell Of that. coffee when a fellow
crept back from No Mans Land faint
| and sick and cold to the very marrow
OF his bones.
Forget The Salvation Army? Never,
never while memory shall live.
Some Of the people who didn't know
much about The Army were little
surprised to hear Of the things they
did.
I wasn't knew them--I've known
them for years.
Once long time ago, when
thought anything that was noisy was
funny, I Joined The Salvation Army
| right here in San Francisco. thought
it would make good story for the
paper-and I had the time Of my life
marching up Market street. beating
tambourine and whooping Come to
| Glory" at the top of my voice-and
all my friends came down to the
| corner Of Grant avenue and Market
street to see us go by. night after
| night--but somehow, after the first
| night Of marching couldn't laugh
when our leader began to pray, and
it didn't seem funny to me at all when
some poor derelict in rags lurched
| through the crowd and tried to make
a maudlin speech-I'd been with The
Army up and down the water front
and in and out of the resorts on the
Barbary coast and up to the jail-and
there was nothing humorous at all in
the pale faces that grew bright when
they heard the Jingle OF the queer old
poke bonnet that meant hope and hu-
manity and human love and human
companionship to them.
And time and time and again in tho
years that passed since the first time
| put on poke bonnet Just for fun
I've tried to get some poor girl in
bitter trouble refuge somewhere in
this very town and in Chicago and in
New York. and in Denver, and in
Kansas City-and when every other
place was too crowded or too busy or
too anxious about the nationality or
the race or the creed OF the Door
frightened, hcartsick, trembling girl
could always find place for her
to hide somewhere, somehow in the
keeping Of a plain little woman in
The Salvation Army uniform.
They don't laugh at the red Jersey
in the old lodging houses along the
waterfront, or out in the "slum" dis
trict-thcy've seen it too often, and
they know what it means in time OF
trouble and despair.
Are you wcary-hcavy laden;
Come to Me, I'll give YOU rest;
rake My yokc-you'll find ii easy;
Lay your head upon My brcst.
That's one Of the songs they sing
Oh, no, they're not great singers, and
some of them can't even pronounce
their words correctly, but you, stand
in tho shadow some night and watch
the faces in the little knot of strange
alien figures that gather timidly
around the singers wan women
from who knows where, soddcn men
from the very guttcrs poor forgot
ten, forsakon creatures from every
sad corner Of tho world and sec if |
YOU don't want to help The SALIVA !
ton Army 10 stay whore it belongs |
right in the front trenches here at
home, the trenches whcrc men and |
women faint and die right around YOU
day in and day out for the want of a
littlc plain every day, human sym
pathy, and plain, every day common
understanding.
a l. lnt 80 ~: