Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1920-08-05

tate. What shall l choose in
this bouquet, over rich in its mingling
of brilliant colors and tender hues?
Shall it be pearls of sacred miStletoe
fallen beneath the Druid's knife; lilies
grown in the shadow of converts and
mOnasteries; roses redeemed with the
blood of Journeys and the carnage of
battle; or, perchance, pale daisies of
the fields sprung up unheeded amid
the cow pasture? All equally are
precious, writes Louis Lagasse de
Locht in the London Times. Daugh-
tiers of a fertile land scared in the
course of ages by storms let loose
from the four corners of the earth,
are they not the expression, the poet
ry, the sap of love and hate, the very
soul, in a word, of people fashioned
by martial blows and bathed in the
sunshine of idealism?
Every Belgian is thrilled by the
past. 1t is his staff and bread of
life. Hence his love of cavalcades,
joyous entries and professions, the
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villages. Great taste is often display
ed in the ordering Of these parades, in
the building of the triumph-to which
Rubens and Jordaens did not scorn to
devote their talent. And it is as if
the figures of legend and history which
pass through our streets had stepped
down from the canvas of old master
pieces to be closer to the caresses of
the crowds.
Sometimes the ceremony represents
but an episode, scene of chivalry or
of mystery from the middle ages. In
Bruges, suddenly awakened from its
melancholy miracle Of the holy blood,
the triumphal escort of a prince con-
secrated to the conquest of the holy
land moves in rolling stream of
glistening steel amid the glamor Of
rich silks and precious broideries, the
clashing of arms and the embrazen
peal of trumpets.
Supreme Drama of All Time.
At Furnes, on the last Sunday in
July, the procession of 'penitents" re-
enacts the supreme drama of all time.
For weeks the city prepares for it.
The actors parts are more coveted
than public honors; some are jealous
ly guarded as hereditary rights.
Through the dense crowd, pressing
ever closer and closer, the revered fig
ures pass in procession. And the
Christ appears, weighted down by his
cross living and staggering Christ,
scOurged till the blood runs from him.
A SILVER of religious fervor passes
over the faithful. mercy" penitent
cries aloud in pain. Every window is
a garden of tapers, candles and lights
whose flames flicker in the wind blow
| ing from the sea. Sacred chants min
| gle with the piping of reeds, the noise
of rattles and the winding of horns.
The crowd sobs and sways and wrings
| its hands and falls into prayer as,
following the Crucified one, the peni-
tents pass. The men in sackcloth and
the women closely yelled do penance,
and their naked, torn feet bleed on the
stones of the road. Perchance beneath
their cloaks of burlap noble ladies,
whose flaxen hair and white bodies
are the love treasures Of this sensu-
Gus and mystic Flanders, are paying
the ransom Of kiss
Mons, the home Of the guardian
saint Of the British army, is the the
alter every year of the famous Lume-
con display which ends the procession
of Ste. Waudru. At midday to the
tolling of the great bell, otherwise
heard only as war alarm, st. George
gives battle to the dragon. After a
deadly combat, the dragon, according
to rite, crashes down in the dust, shot
through the nostrils, and the devils
are chastised by the brave followers
Of the victorious knight. Before en-
tering the lists the tabled beast
flags the crowd with mighty blows of
his tail The people of Mons believe
that a blow from the tail brings