Evening star., 1928-04-01

In sitting at the window Just about dusk
and watching the city's legion Of lamp
lighters make their rounds Of the TO-
443 street lamps.
"Such a motley collection they are.
And rarely one that IL not interesting,
If you will but look--and occasionally
listen. Age Is now and again appar-
emily no obstacle to successful dis
charge Of the lamplighting duties, as
all that is now necessary Is for the
lamplighter to carry around a metal
pronged stick with which he turns on
the gas at dusk---and turns 1t OIL again
In the early morning.
Just year or two ago the lamp
lighter carried on his rounds a sturdily
built stepladder of three or four steps
by which he mounted to turn the gas
Jets of the street lamps on or of. And
you could pretty well count on his be-
ing accompanied on his rounds by a
small crowd Of enviously admiring
small boys.
IF you live in certain of the suburbs,
you will see a real, old-time colored
man making his rounds In lamplight-
Ing, followed not only by covey OF
small boys, but, one and all, they will
be singing the old plantation melodies
he has taught them.
IF, years ago, you had chanced to
live out Georgetown way, you would
have noticed that the lamplighter was
a stalwart old Irish woman-the only
woman on the list, perhaps. But. just
right now, you can generally count
upon seeing. In the lamplighters of your
neighborhood, couple OF small boys
foreign looking-whose father, having
secured the Job, thriftily farms 1t out
among his immediate family.
A MAN and his presumable wife
"A were looking over views of Wash
ington piled In tray on a magazine
counter In the lobby of big hotel.
The man had picked out public build
ings-Lincoln Memorial, Monument and
the like--while the woman fingered over
advance pictures OF the cherry trees on
the Mall without buying anything,
when the clerk came to serve them.
Whats wrong. old girl-don't the
cards suit you? Pretty fine collection,
seems to me-"
Lovely, but somehow, got to think
ing about the way John admired the
city that time he was here before he
crossed. Wouldn't 1t be splendid II we
could send postcards to Heaven?"
The man patted her shoulder. looked
GOWN IIltO IICI eyes tktC Wdy o HOOA AA4o
band should. and told her 1t was a
wonderful idea-if only 1t could be
worked.
"I mean it''--and the woman smiled
to show she wasn't being morbid. THE
city has grown so, since John died. that
every time come here to find that 1t
has reached out for more suburbs and
shot up more skyscrapers, I feel like
want him to know It, You know he
always believed In Washington"
And she was right. 1t would be per-
fectly splendid II all OF US could send
postcards to our folk in Heaven. but
What transcendent thing 1t would
be II they could send postcards to us.
THE fat one was ready for Spring
In a black straw turban with a
steel buckle on the side and an OBJ
viously new and uncomfortable gray
wool suit with more steel buckles at the
neck and belt line She puffed along
like p fake-nature grampus. and In her
eyesswas honest envy Of her Winter
coated companion. who stepped along
With the spryness Of one who has moth
Ing TO carry but so many skin-covered
bones.
Eyes, indeed. I'm as timber as when
was a kid. I can run up and down
stairs the same as ever and always sit
on the floor to put on my shoes and
stockings"
We'll. all I got to say. Hon, you
oughter go down on your marrow bones
in thankfulness. for you are having your
heaven on earth. ! haven't run a step
this IL years and left of sitting on the
floor the day weighed my 1851 tell
you what II we could only appreciate
our blessings while we have 'em-like
my activity and your good eyes-this
would be mighty fine world to live In. -
Which shows how wise We mortals be
after II Is too late.