Evening star., 1925-10-11
AROUND THE CITY
BY MAMIE LANCASTER

dark-like so many Cinderellas among
the ashes, but-not US. Not US.
n X
A PASSENGER In q street car
wore "A sprig of goldenrod In the
lapel of his coat. The blossom caught
the interest Of an oldish man and his
gently fading wife, who smiled at
each other In recognition of what 1t
stood for.
That chap muster been raised in
the country. too. Funny how q
thing like that bit of yellow will hiring
back old times. Recollect that
meadow the other side of Carter's
! swamp. with the hogweed turnin' it
! to gold-an' how mad 1t ulster make
him."
Yes. but why can't you cali it
goldenrod, like everybody else?''
Because it's hogweed. that's why
Say, ma got d letter from Bill this
morTing-every one of his kids came
home last Sunday broke out with
poison oak-looking for persim-
! mons
You don't tell me. Do you s'pose
they know enough to rub in lard and
sulphur salve? Poor little things
I reckon I do remember that swamp
that time tore my frock gettin'
over the rails"
The torn frock must have recalled
a memory of youthful sparkling. for
The oldish man chuckled. and the
almost faded woman's voice rippled
into an almost girash giggle-not a
giggle, either, but an undertone that
harked back to you. You know.
And a passenger seated just behind
who couldn't help hearing, though
she doesn't pride herself on her ears.
wondered whether the meadow on the
other side of CaIters swamp was as
green and beautiful as a cool spring
she knew about. all fringed around
with goldenrod; with big trees over
shadowing 1t and an old gray rock,
with a gourd on It.
Orchids are superfine all right,
but II you have a memory sunshiny
with goldenrod it will seem more
beautiful than even that supremest
of all orchids, whose scarlet blaZes
in tropic jungles and because OF Its
vampish-like allure Is called the "Sev-
enth Deadly Sin"-which makes one
grateful to memory-though, too
often, 1t comes to US cloaked in mist
OF gray.
A LETTER from out Of the friendly
"A unknown includes this paragraph:
eff you went to Versailles. will you
tell about it? The opinion I brought
away with me was that Louis XIV
was about the worst King France ever
had. because, for so many years, he
starved the people to humor his own
extravagant Withstand I would like
to know If you agree with me-
This question is being answered here
for the reason that you may be bit
interested in recalling n royalty that
had hand In providing you with
some of your art gods-say the Venus
de Milo-marble. plaster. chalk or
''composition"-and perhaps. Mona
Lisa, and copies Of other paintings
that have achieved the Immortality Of
the Louvre. Also. an apology Is asked
for uncaging the pronoun Il.
Yes. 1 went to the Palace of Yer
sailles. No. 1 did not mean to write
about it, Europe Is such a tourist.
beaten path that It would take more
courage than I possess to tnf1ict on
the column other than small expert.
ences that, in some measure, relate to
us home folks but-since you ask me:
If it be true that the French Revo-
luton was already showing its teeth
when the Grand Monarch came to the
throne, and that he reigned for sew.
enty-odd years. and then died in
MS Deu lflStedu VI oil tHC 3 SoiIiothiCs
you will have to credit him with vir.
tues as we'll as failings. To govern
a people whose majority could only
dig. or build or weave for a living.
and then threaten when starvation
came to the door, you can understand
why old.time royalty erected palaces
and the church built cathedrals-it
meant bread. And bread meant con-
tent.
Walking in from out Of the every
day world. 1t was enough to make
any one gasp at the gorgeous fabrics
that covered walls and floors, beds and
windows-damaskss stiff with richness;
laces as ethereal as snowflakes EN-.
broidered on mist; frescoed ceilings
with backgrounds Of gold leaf; tapes
tries, statuary. gilt furniture. filagree
silver, chandeliers that were crystal