Evening star., 1920-03-14

ish passing through the train gate
he turned for last goodbye clinch
st the hand Of an oldish man and q
slim, student looking boy who were
seeing him OF. The man might have
been human brother to the sturdy
oak We read about. but tho boy was
lame. And thu three were related
ike this--nAming no names:
About seven years ago a child stood
at a window. He belonged to the
social register class: had a governess
to teach him. adOring parents and
piles and piles Of story books. But
bog wants more than that. A boy
wants to be a regular fellow like the
kids in the street.
He had not realized the dreadful
thing tllat would happen II the steel
but he hsd his suspicious. And not
being . regular fellow. he would
whimpar for his freedom in way
that almost broke his father's heart.
Msehers are Drawer.
rhat afternoon the child was put
his fathers coming. But while he
waited something else caught his In
tereat and the man stood outside.
startled at the new and happy eager
moss with which his son had forgot
ten his coming to watch boy skim
along on one skate.
The child beat jOyously at the VIM
dow pane and the youngster outside.
alive to tho unaccustomed admira-
tion. waved back and spun circles and
figures and stars.
The father slipped into the house
so that the mother could see the
child like that, and she begged that
the boy might be paid to come again.
But the man knew that money would
spoil the fun Of this thing. and, be-
sides, he had better plan.
IT believe he will return. anyhow.
and IL he does-if he does. I'll see
that he gets an education and his
start In life"
The boy did come back: maybe for
moro admiration, or in pity. or some
thing. And the man kept his word.
Which is why the three were together
at the train gate. And that's all there
IL to 1t. except that:
The Great Recorder Of the things
Of earth doubtless has written down
q beautiful and understandable rea-
son why one child should be hope
less cripple that another child might
be given his chance in life.
\ II
IF Sehoppsnhsur's potatoes have
self will and gems reflect the
tempsramental meods Of their wear
erA why may not old clothes have
souls?
To the mass Of tourists who drag
their fa9gsd-out bodies through the
miles Of "sights'' at the National
Museum the historic uniforms there
are only 30 many musty duds. To the
lucky owner OF . minds eye. how
ever. those time-eaten coats and
trousers are charts that bear wit
ness to the personality Of the men
who wore them as distinctly as they
fitted into their physical angles and
curves. It 10 true that "Washington's
uniform has been so often and SO
variOusly hung in it's movings from
one institution to another that it in
dicates nothing but the shape of its
last pee. but
Every seam in Old Hickery's coat
proclaims the uncompromising back
bone OF the man who broke the Bank
Of the United States. There is jovial
bulge in the foreground Of Santa
Anna's waistcoat that tells of good
and gone dinners: thrill Of tri-
umph In the Army blue Of Grant and
Sherman, and something that is VIC
torious. though 1t is not victory, In
every thread Of Confederate gray.
Then consider the fur suits that
made our pole explorers look like
humAn snow clouds-which was what
one woman was doing the other day,
only she wasn't thinking about the
exhibit from an. explorers point OF
view. but entirely from her own.
"aAy, Tom. these furs amt doing a
speclx Of good In these cases. Don't
you wish we had . couple of 'em to
make . rug for the ear"
And Tom agreed. 1t spoke well for
the hArmony Of two people who will
have to live together forever and
Ayar amen--Only: