And now I have to tell you of what seems to me a pleasing and surprising coincidence:
In the Catholic calendar each saint has his special day; thus, you know we have St. Valentine’s Day, on Feb. 14th, when you send the pretty valentines; St. Patrick’s Day, March 17th, when our Irish citizens march in processions, “wearing of the green;” St. John’s Day, June 24th, when the Canadians among us make wreaths and garlands of the fresh young maple-leaves, because the maple is the Canadian emblem. Now it so happens that St. Botolph’s Day is, of all days in the year for the American Boston’s patron saint—what do you think? The Seventeenth of June!
That Seventeenth of June, when Boston puts on her very best gala dress, when the bells all ring, and the Fire Companies form into processions, and the Military march, and the orators make speeches, and the children sing, and the great organ makes grand patriotic music, and the stars and stripes are flung to the “Boston east-winds,” and the holiday is a jolly day!
Now do not you agree with me that we have found a delightful triple coincidence, in that Boston’s great holiday is Bunker Hill Day; and Bunker Hill Day is the Seventeenth of June; and the Seventeenth of June is old St. Botolph’s Day?
FOOTNOTE:
[A] St. Botolph’s Bridge in Huntingdonshire is now called Bottle-Bride!