Evening star., 1926-12-26
AROUND THE CITY
BY MAMIE LANCASTER.

switched Off to another topic-some-
thing about boys who came to school
in their own machines and give rid
ing parties in the afternoons. Neither
of them seemed to take in the ira
gedies of the old pioneering days. or
the history.value Of that era-still----.
Boys have always been boys and
probably always Will be. Thank the
good Lord.
st,TIE Way Of ths Sorrowful' is one
name for a long. straight mile
that leads to an iron gate-painted
black. You might call 1t the Bladens-
burg road or the boulevard, with
automobiles and busses forever going
and coming, but, in the face of each
pilgrim wayfarer of that sorrowful
mile is something OF the silence that
! lies behind the gate. Many of them,
year in and year out, carry flowers,
some who are old and prayerful say
their rosaries, but, yesterday, for one
time, an aged woman-So aged that
her steps wavered--moved along, as
best she could, with a basket heaped
with wreaths and Christmas greens.
Another woman. younger, but not
over-young at that, who was making
the same pilgrimage, overlook the
other and took the basket from her.
They had never seen each other be-
fore. but it made no difference-all
are kindly folk who travel that way
-wheit on the mission that leads to
1.-THE silence behind the black iron
gate.
Relieved Of her load, the, old woman
rubbed her arm and tucked it under
I a black shawl-not a coat, or a cape,
hut shawl such as women wore
forty-eleven years ago, going on
twelve.
IL always want my Fanny to have
her little Christmas tree-she was
such a dear lover. of Kris Kingle.
She was only five years old-and
the night and day. oh, my dear, it
is a heartbreaking thing to lose your
only aughter-though Gods will be
DONE"
The other woman felt sure, of
course, that the bereaved old soul
could not be grieving for a daughter
not a woman SO old as to have a
bent body, a thin face gathered over
with wrinkles and sparse gray hair
still all of US can make mistakes, for:
AS the two passed into a place of
snow melting ,on brownish grass and
on limbs of bone bare trees, they came
to a curved path, where the ancient
one took her basket from the other
and pointed to a small mound with a
marble lamb at one end and a slab at
the other. And on the slab was
carved: "our Fannie. Aged Five.
1870"
And the younger woman felt, as,
perhaps, you do, that faithfulness Is
a most beautiful thing! Never mind
it's being unwise.
SOMEBODY is going to have roast
~ pig for Christmas. You could tell by
the gay little pennant that few from
a miniature pen in which the small
porker was Grated. The crate stood
outside the Union Station in the
charge of a very dark custodian In
a very red cap, and naturally many
paused in passing to give it a stare.
The black and white spotted
youngster-not old enough to be q
shoat-with a quivery nose and cup,
handle tail, accepted his Ssfson bars
with the philosophy Of a race that
spends most Of itS yZars doing time
in a pen. There were many COM
ments banded over the free show
and one rag-tag boy shrilled out to
any one who would listen:
''Ketch on to de c'nary in a gilt
cage"
s"That isn't a bird. It is q pig"
This entirely correct diagnosis was
voiced by a boy Of about the same
age-a nice little fellow whose neat
ness showed for some mammals
tenderest care. He couldn't take a
Joke, but 1t was equally obvious that
never, never would he take pocket
book that didn't belong to him.
<In nf sNffvyinO
the rag.tag's face and his whoop of
ferision brought a round of outlaws
that would have done credit to a
Chanlin film.