What has become of it since he does not know. The flag was made of standard wool bunting and weighed half a ton. It was sold for $2500.
We are not thought to be very sentimental about our flag, but Mr. Renner tells me that a few years ago, when he was hoisting a very large flag at Chestnut Hill Park, he had an amusing experience which sounds more Parisian than Philadelphian. He had been sitting in a "bosun's chair" at the top of the staff while the flag was pulled up and his face was black with soot from the smoke of the nearby scenic railway. Descending from the pole he was leaning against a pavilion looking up at the flag, when an old lady who had been watching rushed up, threw her arms round his neck and embraced him. Mr. Renner still blushes modestly when he recalls the ordeal.
It is a pleasant thing for any community to have some relic or trophy of its own that fosters local pride. Those who live in the neighborhood of Fourth and Callowhill streets are proud of the Indian Pole, which the city once consigned to the dump heap, but which they rescued and have cherished as an interesting landmark. And there are other matters thereabout to invite imagination: The bright blue laboratory of a certain dandruff nostrum; inns named "The Tiger" and "The Sorrel Horse," and a very curious flatiron-shaped house that stands just behind the flagstaff.
I thought the Indian Pole was quite an adventure for one morning, but at Fifth and Arch I met
