Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1936-11-26

Continued from Page One)

tressing and shocking news OF his be-
ing suddenly stricken down lmmedi-
atelv friends hurried to the side of
their saddened neighbor. Friends,
whose linking ties, formed in days OF
success and prosperity, had only grown
more binding in later days of financial
reverses: friends whose devotion was
never measured in terms of religious
or political creeds, but only through
the good fellowship of neighborly love
these were the hands hat came to
administer a token of sincere devotion
in this time of need.
Somehow it always impressed me
that this real devotion of companion
ship is to be found more in the slIall-
er communities than in large. You who
have craved the life of the city; you
who have grown tired Of life in the
smaller towns or in the country, irked
bv its hardships, lured to metropclit-
an centers by the glazing trumpets and
dazzling lights. are overlooking for the
time some Of the greatest assets in life.
This sentiment has neve heel X
pressed better than by an editorial ap-
bearing in the St. Pau Daily News
7cma ten years ago and which, Ike
little Virginia's letter to Santa Claus.
has been copied and re-cooied hund
reds Of times in papers ali '"@r the
country. 1t is called, "The Lonesome
City" and we are reprinting i in full.
~ saw a pathetic sight a Nv days
ago. A hearse was followed by one
small Ford in which sat a man driving
and three small children, crying pite-
ausly. Through the crowded streets
the small cortege wendell its way. Cars
Of all descriptions whiZzed by it, filed
with laughing, happy. troubled or
careworn men and women. and few
Of them ever elimpsed the tragedy of
/ the hearse and its followers. A father
| Of three small children going to bury
| The mother, and going alone. Such a
| thing could never happen in the oun
try. There, no matter how poor or how
lowly YOU may be some kindly souls
will always follow you to the grave
nd some tender hearts will wee with
those who love you. Those small town
folks may be prying and curious and
ignorant, but when trouble comes they
are always ready to help. Perhaps they
are what we like to call small
souled~ individuals, but then, what does
that matter so long as they have such
big hearts?
"The city is a fine place for living
but a lonesome place to die. For we
are all so busted with pursuing our
pet ambitions, so intent on keeping
pace, so engrossed with our trivial oc-
equations, that we have not time to
stop when death passes. End SO we
rush our dead off swiftly to the GENE
teries and lay them away as quickly
as possible. We send our floral offer
ings to the undertaking parlors and let
it 60 at that. We say it with flowers in
the city; in the country they say it
with tears. And it is not that we have
harder hearts. 1t is only that we have
grown so used to rubbing shoulders
with tragedy that we ignore it. Death
is our neighbor SO often that we have
learned to turn our eyes away. And
gradually we have allowed the under
taker to do for our dead what friends
once did.
GAS | looked at that broken man and
those sobbing children, l wished that
this mother might have been privileged
to die in the little town where l was
born"