Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1921-10-22
is SACRED SPOT
All France in Tribute at Grave
of Unknown Soldier.
All Glasses, All Types, Represented in
Unceasing Stream Around SIM
pie Slab of Stone.

The prayers of the faithful go up
increasingly.
No vestal lights are here, no sacred
shades of some cathedral aisle, that
every one should speak so softly, tread
so light. But there is a simple slab
of stone upon which flowers are scat
tered, all radiant in the sunlight or
a summer morning.
The busy holiday traffic of the Pa
risian Sunday sweeps increasingly In
every direction across the great Place
de rEtOile. But here in the heart OF
1t all is a little hushed oasis where
women cross themselves, where men
bare and bow their heads, where even
the laughter of little children is stilled
In wOnderment, for here at the Sepul-
cher of an unknown warrior a nation
has enshrined the memory of a mil
lion dead, and here, above all hal
lowed places in the land of France,
a nations prayers are said, F. A. Hub
bell writes in the continental edition
of the London Mail.
The sunlight Of a newborn day had
hardly flung it's gold upon the great
triumphal arch which rears itself so
proudly over the grave of the unknown
before the first of the tribute bring
ers arrived. They came, but in ones
and twos, so early in the morning, lin
gered a little while, and, dropping flow
er offerings, passed on their way.
Gradually the city wakened. Motor
cars came sweeping up the broad ave-
nue. of the Champs-E lysees, trans and
busses emerged from every cOnverg-
ing thOrOughfare. Crowds passed to
the great pleasure ground of the Bots
de BOulOgne Others went farther
afield for their holiday, but thousands
here had reached their journeys end.
They wished to go no farther than
this little slab of stone.
The sun mounts higher in the sky
and those who press about the flower
sprinkled spot increase in numbers
Two cues are formed. Each winds
about the base of the majestic arch
On either side. In slow and reverend
ing procession they converge beneath
1t before the space of sacred ground.
Noon has gone and still the slow
stream of peoples passes. All ages
all classes, all types are represented.
Here a widow in sOmber black who
for a second breaks away from the
stream to kneel and lay her little
bunch of lilies of the valley on the
tomb An aged man, who leans heav-
lily on a stick, pauSeS, bares his head
with trembling hand and passes on.
A girl, white coiffured, from some dis
tant province, has reached the end of
her pilgrimage. She brought flowers
with her from the little village, did
her best to keep them fresh and fra
grant on the way. All flutteringly,
she drops them on the f1OWer-sprinkled
stone. A soldier, in the sky-blue uni
form of France, Straightens himself
to attention" salutes and goes his
way.
A woman, beautifully rObed, whose
motor car with nOiseless engine, drew
up to the curb an hour ago, has
reached the grave. She seldom waits
for anything; she has never waited
in a cue. But here all are equal and
she has taken her turn with the hum
blest. Her tribute of exquisite roses
is not more fragrant than the tiniest
violet spray.
1t is evening and from the Champs
Elysees NapoleOn's trimphal arch up
on the hilltop, wrapped in the glory
of the setting sun, would seem the
entrance to some celestial region.
Men and women are still passing
before the sepulcher, by this time hid
den quite beneath a pyre of many-col-
ored blossoms which seem almost to
burn in the crimson evening glow.
The restless, rushing human tide
that surged over the great open space
is waning and the silence about the
tomb is more profound.
Those who wait to pay their tribute
are fewer now, but as they pass on
ward from the arch toward the west
the eye is blinded by the dazzling light
that envelOpS them.
And In the majestic symbolism of
hilltop arch and blazoned sky, an un-
known soldier who gave his life for
his friends, holds the portals through
which men pass to a promised lane