Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1924-02-16

Standing on a street of Washing
ton, watching the stately progress of
the solemn cortege which bore to its
last resting place the poor clay which
a few short years ago was the fore
most man of all this world, some
serious thoughts forced the way with
out the will.
His death came just at time to
force some sharp comparisons and to
draw some curious parallels. 1t came
at a moment when great scandals
were rending parties, destroying am
billions and sending men to the po-
litical boneyard, yet touching not the
dying man in any manner whatsoever.
His hands were clean, to the end; if
there had ever been anything of
dross, his closing years and death
disclosed nothing remaining in the
crucible but gold. On his shroud there
was no black smirch of the CRATER,
in his coffin no space for the cold
formulas Of political creeds, no room
for the hatred of any Nemesis such
as followed his every step for de-
cade. He lived and died free from
such political scandal as now threat
ems the very existence of the party in
power.
Woodrow Wilsonhated the political
makeshift of those physicians who
see and treat a single symptom, while
letting the disease run it's deadly
course. The land is full of inane nos
trum-mongers, peddling their quack
remedies about by the carload, while
financial tricksters hold the high
places and manipulate financial legis-
lation through Departmental recon-
mendation for the easing of their
own burdens. Of such men and their
ilk he would have nothing; giant that
he was, he kept the faith, he fought
good fight he ran a true course. He
will live long in the hearts and his
tory of the people, for he died as the
martyrs die, or as he dies who falls
with the harness on, the broad
sword leaping,
The wild fight surging fast,
Sore wounded with each stroke, yet
keeping
His stout front to the last"
The blow which felled Wilson in
the midst of his vast labors for hu-
mainly was stab at the breast of
Freedom. He fell in mid-career, with
his work half done the laurels of his
victories at Paris still green upon his
brow. The blows of partisan envy
and jealousy he took in front, yield
ing neither to brutality nor blandish-
ments, turning neither to the right
nor to the left, but with his face tow
ard that high ideal of Peace on Earth
whose eminent disciple persisted on
Calvary. There was iron in the blood
of the man and the courage of his
high convictions was as those tides of
The sea which go on and on forever
Ills was that stalwart, indomitable
cou1age which chained fl rtune to his
chariot wheel only that he might.
from his high vantage point, strike
the truer blows at those hideous con-
ditions surrounding the lives of mill
ions Of human beings which were to
him intolerable.
The death (which finally came to
him was, doubtless, to the patient
sufferer, in the nature of a benedic-
ton. In the lingering years there
might have been to a lesser soul some
satisfaction in the mounting proof
that time at last makes all things
even.
There came day, in that bloody
holocaust called the French Revolu-
ton, when that wild beast, Robes
pierre, was placed on trial for his
life. Of all his monumental crimes,
perhaps the most inexcusable villainy
was the execution of Danton. Muir
derer, yet coward, when his accus-
ers faced him he turned a sickly hue
and choked so badly he could not