Virtue would be 120 years old today, if she (or he?) were alive.
I was walking off a foul mood the other day through Trinity Church Cemetery—my local cemetery—when one of those curious headstone inscriptions grabbed me:
VIRTUE S. HARM
FEB. 23, 1891
JAN. 30, 1950
Meaning no irreverence, I laughed. I naturally assumed the name was genuine, since it was writ in costly stone to mark a burial. But its play on words struck me as too obvious to miss.
I love the pun intended. Reading it aloud—“Virtue S. H
