The Birmingham age-herald., 1921-11-16
Nam 'selle Delphine

Just little pamphlet of less than thlrty pages; so simply gotten up, but so full of pathos and sweetness; anyone else would have taken a vol ume in which to express so much beauty and so much feeling but then remembcr-it is Harry Stilwen Ed wards who did the writing.
 Nam selle Delphine' isA subtitled A Story of the Christmas" and its mission is very sweet and very ten- der and a very human one which Is told in tho "Dedication."
 In a few well chosen words Mir. Harry Sulwell SEdwards thus sends out to the world his message;
 To a little Georgia working girl. who at home by day and by night fought through the great war with courage and devotion and became in the end a casualty this Christmas story is dedicated, and given to help her carry on. Her battle is now with humanity's dread enemy, the White Plague and it is the authors belle. that the generous men and superb women of the south. through pur- chase of the story, will arm her with the means necessary to fight her way back to health.
 The book is hers, it's message theirs, the end is with God.
 THE AUTHOR. Grove Park Inn,
 Asheville, N. C."
 That's the appeal-he-e is the story, in part:
 Rendered from the French into English the inscription carved Gver the quaint double gateway was:
 stranger, they who rest within these walls, God Mas sanctified by the touch of his angel Death. Pass not His sentinel if it so be ye harbor aught of malice, lust, resentment or envy for these be the worlds four curses and this is holy ground.
 T copied it into my note book. But the sentinel
 The word above was written vi- dette. Beyond the gate were roses and green 'widespreading trees, the white of giant magnolia blooms and of many sepulchres. And some where thS southern thrush intensi- fled the silence with his rapturous song, but of sentinel, guard or watch man there was none; only cross of stone standing between the two en- frances
 This, then, was the sentinel. Be- sides, there is a. Spanish proverb which reads. It is a reckless man that will bear curse past a cross
 standing among the roses and the violets" so goes the story Tt met new note-a womans wordless song lullaby; and the woman sec ing my interest said:
 "'This the grave of MamSselle Del phine; she was my friend; l am plant ing the iris--her flower. ..
 Could you not tell me the story of Nam selle Delphine" asked I.
 f.l l., Christmas Eve when snow fell and lay on the ground. A very wicked woman lay in the room next to Nam . selle's,-just q bed was there and one poor chair. No fire, no coYer no light, no food! The wretched wom- ans last money had gone for this shelter of one week for herself and the helpless baby. l say wicked, Monsieur, because she had not waited to be bride. and her lover had been hurried away to the Philippines with his company before the day she set had come. But yet she was a girl only and the home back in Bayou Teche was closed to her. Let the good God judge But if wicked, she was still brave, and could sew the delicate stitches of all her people Only, the cold had stiffened her fin- gers and the baby could only be warmed against her body, for the wraps. she had none! Mam'selle, who worshipped purity and cleanliness and whose room was as a shrine told me that for hours she resisted the wailing of the babe heard through the thin wall of lathe and paper, as it rose and fell with the little ones strength. And she resisted, too. tho little mothers voice that .mingled with baby's wall, and went and stood by the window looking down into the poor street. now for the firsi time in the lives of children grown tl be men and women. white and pure with the baptism of the snow.
 "E'inaliy" runs the story "Mam'- selle opened her Bible to read her daily chapter and these verses greeted her eyes;
 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unts ore of the least of these my breth- ren, ye have done it unto me-"
 You may believe, Monsieur she closed the book reverently and passed out into the carpetlcss hall without hesitating and entered to the wretched woman.
 Tn the room, poorer, much poorer than hers, the little girl-woman sat with head bowed above the child in Ter lap. Her mothers song hushed as Main selle entered. The face lifted as Mam'selle said:
 The father? Is he living?' An but Nam selle knew how to be deli cate."
 "sYes Madamp said the noor girl