246 
PARK AND CEMETERY. 
therefrom absorb ideas profitable for use 
in his own cemetery. 
Let me tell you how it was with me. A 
week before starting I wrote to my friends 
by the wayside that I was a-coming. First 
to Baltimore. A layman friend had every- 
thing prearranged for us. Next morning 
he was there with his car and we saw Bal- 
timore and twenty miles around it, and he 
never left us until 8 p. m., when he put us 
on the train for Washington. At Balti- 
more we inspected Loudon Park Cemetery 
with Mr. Strohmer, the superintendent, and 
it was an eye-opener to us. Mr. Primrose 
had gone ahead to Virginia, but he had left 
orders that we were to be taken care of. 
Some miles distant is Druid Hill Cemetery, 
a recent acquisition of Mr. Primrose’s, a 
lovely spot, modern in keeping and some- 
what “toney.” And just across the way 
from Loudon Park is Bonnie Brae, a Cath- 
olic cemetery — oh, so pretty !. Mr. Woods, 
its superintendent, a dear old gentleman, 
was at Norfolk with us. 
Getting to Washington, we went directly 
to the hotel, where everything had been 
prearranged for us by our jolly friend, R. 
D. Howell, secretary-treasurer of Rock 
Creek Cemetery. Barely had we finished 
breakfast next morning when Mr. and Mrs. 
Howell in an auto were at the door await- 
ing us. Both of them lifelong residents of 
the capital and prominent among men, 
know everybody, everything and every 
place, and the sights we were privileged to 
see and the courtesies extended convinced 
us that our rollicking, frolicking friend 
was “no small potatoes” in the big city. 
We visited private and public institutions, 
parks and boulevards, botanical gardens and 
government experiment stations and else- 
where; for scores of miles that tireless 
auto bore us. and we spent an interesting 
hour or two in that loveliest of cemeteries, 
Arlington. But their kindness had not 
ended yet. Before our coming they had 
arranged for our passage and stateroom on 
the steamer to Norfolk, and they never left 
us until they put us aboard the boat at 7 
p. m. Mrs. Howell is just as congenial as 
her husband. 
On the boat a happy surprise awaited us. 
There we found a dozen or more of the 
cemetery people all bound for Norfolk. 
Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Reed, of 
Canton; Mr. and Mrs. F. D. Willis, St. 
Paul; Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Landis, In- 
dianapolis; Sid J. Hare and Mr. Fields, 
Kansas City, and Mr. and Mrs. Wiltberger, 
of Rock Creek Cemetery, and others. 
Sailing down the Potomac in the dark of 
the night — and it was mighty dark that 
night — what we didn’t discuss in the way 
of cemetery matters was mighty little. 
Next morning found us at Norfolk. 
Our Virginia friends were at the boat to 
welcome us, all of us, and such a hearty 
welcome, and with autos to take us, bag 
and baggage, to the Monticello. Then 
there surely was a how-do-you-do, for 
cemetery men from many states were 
there, old friends of years ago; it cer- 
tainly was a happy reunion. 
Wholesouled hospitality was extended 
to us at Norfolk, and those of us who 
were there sincerely appreciated it, for 
Dixie’s heart and hand were open to us. 
Those of our friends who were not there 
missed a red letter day of their life. To 
Mr. and Mrs. Broughton our warmest 
thanks are extended. 
But we must leave Norfolk with its 
cemeteries, crape myrtles, umbrella 
China trees, navy yard, bathing beaches, 
truck gardens and sand dunes and start 
for home. 
Got to Richmond at midnight, stopped 
at the Jefferson; next morning found us 
at Hollywood Cemetery. Mr. Hooper, 
the superintendent, having gone to New 
York, left woid with his assistant to look 
after us. First we went around the ceme- 
tery in a hack, but that being unsatisfy- 
ing, the foreman and I retraced our steps 
all over the grounds. I was particularly 
interested in the splendid holly and mag- 
nolia trees, and the magnificent old 
specimens of white, red, turkey, willow 
and post oaks, sweet gum, tulip, sour 
gum, hickory, cryptomeria and other 
trees, and the luxuriance of the European 
ivy, English yew and other shrubs, and 
the profusion of H. T. roses in bloom 
everywhere. A score or more of our 
cemetery folks, mostly the New Eng- 
land delegation, left Norfolk by boat the 
night before, getting to Richmond in 
the morning, but what became of them 
goodness only knows; we did not again 
see them until as we were leaving Hol- 
lywood three big auto loads of Yankee 
grave diggers were entering its gates, 
men and women, and beamingly happy. 
Leaving Richmond, our next stop was 
Philadelphia. Our friends on the train 
were Mr. and Mrs Smith, Jr., and Mr. 
Conradi, all of Laurel Hill Cemetery. 
The young people were loving and sweet 
to one another; Conradi is a great, big, 
jolly fellow, intellectual and entertaining. 
The part of Virginia through which we 
traveled is of great historic interest, more 
particularly as regards incidents of the 
civil war. A southern gentleman sitting 
near us and noting that we were strang- 
ers kindly explained to us the important 
points and places as we sped through the 
Old Dpminion. At Philadelphia we were 
in the hands of that prince among men, 
George Painter, superintendent of West- 
minster Cemetery, whose kindness and 
hospitality are proverbial in our calling. 
From Philadelphia we hurried on to 
Atlantic City! No, no, botheration take 
your cemeteries! Nobody goes to Atlantic 
City to see a cemetery, neither did we. 
Here a layman had prepared for us. 
From Atlantic City we made for Tren- 
ton, N. J., to visit Mr. and Mrs. Atkin- 
son, superintendent of Riverview Ceme- 
tery. They were at the station to meet 
us and we had a hearty welcome. Both 
are cemetery people and mutually inter- 
ested in their work. Before their mar- 
riage Mrs. Atkinson was associated with 
Westminster Cemetery, Philadelphia. 
Next day, at noon, we got as far as 
Harrisburg, Pa., and there at the station 
to receive us was our great big, genial 
bachelor friend, Mr. H. M. Barnes, su- 
perintendent of the Harrisburg Ceme- 
tery. In the meantime Mr. T. H. Little, 
of Mount Hope Cemetery, Chicago, had 
joined us. Don’t think that because Mr. 
Barnes is a bachelor he boards at a hotel 
or that he is too young to get married, 
for he doesn’t and isn’t; his sister keeps 
house for him, and a warm-hearted 
hostess she is. Mr. Barnes has the 
unique experience of living in the same 
house today that he was born in and 
where he has lived all of his life. His 
father, before him, had charge of the 
cemetery. 
Now for home — Pittsburgh, the smok- 
iest and most industrial city in the world, 
but to me and mine the dearest spot on 
earth. Mr. Little came home with us. 
Notwithstanding our nearly two weeks’ 
absence, everything was in as good con- 
dition and as well done as if I myself 
had been at home fussing and scurrying 
and carrying on so. 
During the day friend Little and we 
visited all of the big Pittsburgh ceme- 
teries, Homewood, where W. Allen pre- 
sides; Highwood, the home of our new 
secretary, W. B. Jones, and Union Dale, 
where Sydney Youden is doing splendid 
work. In the evening the Jones and 
Youden families joined with us in a de- 
lightful outing and party. Next morning 
Mr. Little left for Cleveland. 
Now, who says I didn’t have a busi- 
ness vacation worth having and worth 
paying for, and that I didn’t see enough 
to compensate us for the time and 
money expended? Besides, apart from 
the business side of it, the whole trip 
was a joy throughout. 
“Yes, yes, that’s all right about Nor- 
folk, but what on earth can we see or 
learn at Barre when we go there next 
year?” some pessimistic friend may ask. 
In answer: You know James Scorgie, 
superintendent of Mount Auburn Ceme- 
tery, Boston, and what a hard-headed, 
practical fellow he is; he is one man we 
cannot fool. Writing to me the other day, 
he told me that he has just returned 
from a motor trip to Barre, and his en- 
thusiasm as regards Barre is great. He 
says the interest the folks there are tak- 
ing in the coming convention is un- 
bounded ; they are making extravagant 
preparations for us, educationally as well 
as hospitably. And then think of Creesy 
and Adams, and Ross and Scorgie, and 
Driscoll, Lord, Derry and others, every- 
year friends whom we expect to see at 
their own cemeteries, either on our way to 
or from the convention. In fact, I think 
Barre is going to be great! 
