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all night to complete that term* paper. Perhaps they have listened to older heads better than we did when we were kids, and they have profitted by our experiences and don’t have to learn “the hard way.” I believe I’ll ask some of them and see what the answer will be.
i * * *
One of the city papers the other day ran a special section for brides. Articles told brides about customs of weddings, who foots what bills (poor pa!), and what kind of music is best for the church ceremony. *
It’s odd how quickly one’s mind jumps from the sublime to the ridiculous at the mention of a subject. That mention of the church wedding music reminded me of two experiences. One was the time I attended a womanless wedding and the solo of the occasion was “Just Before the Battle, Mother.”
The other occasion brought to mind was- the time >we kids had the funeral for the kitten. The youngsters were so upset at the untimely departure of the kitten that someone suggested a funeral to divert attention. It was a gala affair. It required plans for half the day and necessitated inviting all the kids from the neighborhood. Time has erased from memory most of the program arranged, but I recall that the limit of our musical numbers for solo consisted of “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles,” and one of the brighter kids * of the neighborhood had. learned the Marseillaise, in French, at Chautauqua that summer. That added much to the program, and' gave a small case of hysterics to the grown-ups next door who attended the services.
I can’t remember much more about the occasion, but It’s pretty certain that if the kids in the neighborhood were invited, they expected — and got — refreshments before they went home.
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