Sending flowers to the dead is a beautiful tribute to their worth while
living. Some day I shall lie in my coffin with closed lips and folded
hands, looking through dead and expressionless eyes into the great
eternity that opens to receive me; and those who loved me will bring
sweet flowers and lay them near my hard bed and drop a tear to mark the
place of our parting. But I will not be able to smell the flowers, nor to
see the tear, nor to look into their beloved faces and catch the gleam of
friendship and the glory of human love. It will then be too late for a
responsive smile and hand squeeze and a tender word of recognition; for I
will be far away from the touch of friendship, and only the cold clod of
the senseless mortal will be there to receive the gift of love.
Below I publish a bouquet that was sent to me while my heart is hungry
for appreciation, and my soul longs for congenial companionship; for we
are all groping our way through this jungle of theory and blindfolded
guess work, and we are glad to know that others are going our way:
Reading, Pa., January 7, 1910.
Jake Haiden, Esq.,
Chatham Run, Pa.
My Dear Sir—Permit me to introduce myself for the purpose
of expressing my appreciation of the beautiful sentiments
contained in your “philosophy,” appearing in the “Reading
Times” daily. I was particularly impressed with the article
in today’s issue, and thank you sincerely for same. I am
looking forward to the time when the citizens of this community
will become better and more generally acquainted with you
personally and with your writings, and I assure you that if
my recommendation to my friends and neighbors will in any
measure help to call attention to the increasing value and
attractiveness of the “Times,” I unreservedly give it, for
I feel that if our merchants, business men and men in all
walks in life, should spend a few moments each day in silent
communion with you, we will all feel better and accomplish more
for the philosophy of “Jake Haiden.”
With my very best wishes, I am,
Yours truly,