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A SALVATION ARMY FUNERAL.

Yellow, purple and red is the flag of the Salvation army.

Yesterday two other colors were added.

One was black; that was for grief. One was white; that was for innocence.

Sister Stenie Glassman was dead.
Who was Sister Stenie Glassman?

A woman, young, plain of face, decisive of speech, simple of manner, who could kneel in the mud of the street and pray while the crowds jeered at her. A woman who could enter a saloon and wage there fierce battle against what she considered win; a woman who coudl swing the cymbals in metallic clangor in the street march or the Salvationists and call on the ungodly to fall in and march with the army of the Lord.

Such women are generally counted a nuisance.

But it is very difficult at times to tell the difference between a nuisance and a hero. Besides, public opinion holds up but an illusive mirror. Sometime, centuries from now, when men are permitted in that dim and doubtful resurrection to look in the mirror of truth, it may appear that many of the figures which seem dwarfed now, will tower then among their fellows, while many that stand tall and straight will be shrunken and strangely deformed.

Stenie Glassman, with those mud stained garments and the strap of the Salvation army on her sleeve, may stand then above white cravatted clergyman, who discoursed to his followers in English, the faultlessness of which the girl who marched the streets could not even appreciate.

However this may be, she was buried yesterday in the new cemetery and services which were attended by 500 persons were held in the Salvation army barracks at the corner of Davenport and Seventeeth streets. The flag under which she had fought her own peculiar and daring little light drooped over the coffin. On the platform sat five officers of the army, young women, all with broad white sashes soldier-wise over their breasts, and gloves of white. Back of them were a group of girl cadets in the uniform, but without the sashes.

Concertina, violin, cymbal, and zither accompanied the singing. There were no dirges, but instead songs of triumph. Why mourn when a soldier had marched to victory? That is the way the Salvationists looked at it. Ensign Eddie Parker, Lieutenant O. Leyres, Cadet Woodhouse and the Rev. J. S. Philips sat together in a row where the pulpit would have been, had there been one, and all but the Rev. Philips played on some musical instrument when the fitting moment came. Rev. Philips made a few fitting remarks. He said Sister Glassman had died in the servlee, and that while her death was mourned her fearless life would serve as an inspiration to those who knew her.

Have you ever seen that little man with the piercing voice, all nerve and fire with the eyes of an enthusiast and the graphic speech of the born leader, who leaps and dances before the processions of the army on the street, and who harangues the congregations with hectic eloquence?

"We do not come here to mourn," said he, "although we loved her who lies there in the coffin. We can mourn in our homes better than in a public place like this. We come here to say to those who are dead in trespasses and sins; to this will you all come at last. However fine and safe you may think yourself now, the day will dawn when the cold hand of death will be laid on your shoulder; you will be pushed to the brink of the dark river and from you will be washed all this that hides your true self. Therefore, today, while you see what death is, how suddenly it comes, how inevitable it is, whether you be four-score or only a child, kneel beside this coffin and swear to be ready against the day which waits for you."

A SALVATION ARMY FUNERAL.

Yellow, purple and red is the flag of the Salvation army.

Yesterday two other colors were added.

One was black; that was for grief. One was white; that was for innocence