A HAPPY VALENTINE.
If I could bo a valentine, j ti
I know what I would do. -vju
I'd got Into nn onvolopo
And travel straight to you. ' ."..
And it tho postman didn't know
Your namo Is Baby Dear
And whoro you llvo, I'd shako bis bag
As soon as bo was near.
And then with nil my might I'd Jump
And run across tho street.
(I'm suro Unit ho'd Jump, too, to And
A Valentino bad feet.)
I'd ring tho boll and r(ng tho boll
A mlnllto and a hal
And whon you camo and saw 'twas I,
Oh, ray, bow we would laugh!
Anna M. I'ratt.
. They say alio Is out ot duto In this
end ot tho nineteenth century, but that
1b wrong. Hho mny bo more coy, moro
rotlcont, moro cluslvo, but ebo Is still
with b. On each 8t. Valentino's day
eho pecpn trom her casement window,
clthor literally or llguratlvoly, with
Just as enticing a glance; hor smiles
nro no loss alluring; her olgho croato
fully as much huvoc.
Perhaps sho no iongor pins bay
leaves to her pillow to tempt fate, or
makes a pretonso of drawing hor lot
from a bundlo of names written upon
slips of material papor all that was
but form at best. Tho Hprlto ot tho
Valentino know well who was her fato
wjthout ,bucu oxpodieuts. And sho
knowB'lt now.
Tho eyes of common mortals might
lio blinded, but hor bright eyes looked
clearly into tho futuro and saw thoro
tho chained captlvo whq raveled In his
chains. Hho read some tender verso
and smiled at its Innocence oho who
was nil inftoconco hcrsolf, yet glftod
with that prescient boiibo of prophecy,
or foroknowlcdgo, against which tho
clumsy reason ot mortal swain was as
liolploBS au tho wIIch of au Infant. Hho
smiled and no mystic rlto could bo
moro potent. Hhu guvo ono glanco
from boncath tho witching frlngo ot
hor long lashes, and no other sorcery
was needed. Tho samo Is truo today.
Uood St. Valentino was n martyr,
they tell us, and boiuo can suo no pro
prioty in naming this lovers' day for
mm; but to my mind tho lltucss Is
moat striking. How many a torturod
heart has gone tn its martyrdom nt tho
oyenttdo ot this dayl Even escaping
that, how many a soul has been plncod
upon tho rack by tho coquetry ot somo
maiden sweet at this samd crucial
timol For tho Valontlno Sprlto 1b truo
to her box, in splto ot tho traditions
that hem hor In and tlx hor placo as
eonio meek cnptlvo awaiting tho docroo
th.aU shall Rend her rejoicing into
whatever arms aro stretched out to
rocolvo hor.
Do not deceived. Hho has docidod
upon tho arms long bctoro, and they
aro held forth at her will. Hho may
tiave spoken no word save ot tho coy
tbut the has willed. Ah, how de
ltt4d are they who cast a pitying cyo
iffnouah the
love lauahsat
pe hearts witha$sioffwn$tantalow
iOWRwpstneim;evfrDrishtftn(iiwarmv,
upon womnn for her lack of tho power
to chooso and to plead I Know yo not,
my lordB of creation, that by far tho
most frequently yo nro tho chosen and
not tho choosers? It sho wills you to
como you come. It sho wills you to
speak you speak, and, moro than that,
sho has tho added power to send you
away empty If so her caprice decides.
This in tho common llfo of every
day. What, then, might bo expected
In tho mystic tlmo when lovo rulos all?
At lonst, Valentino Hprlto holds royal
sway. If oho wills your mlsslvo 11 lea to
hor. If oho wills sho oven binds a
snowy mcssago to tho wings ot Mer
cury and bids him speed with It to hor
chosen valontlno, for who shall say hor
nay? Tho Valentine Hprlto mistakes
not whom she chooses hlm'sho holds.
liorotoforo, my' brothers, I havo
warned you, though tho warnings wero
vain, but against this onchnntrcss I
cannot bid you stool yourself, for tho
soft witchery of her innocent smilo has
scaled my lips, and I know not whothor
this maiden with tho childish graco
and tho woman's wiles bo most a bless
ing or a snnro to you. I can only toll
you this your struggles against her
will amount to naught but your own
comploto captivity, for with each
piungo you sink dcopor tho arrow that
has pierced you.
This much of tho mystery, however,
I can roveal to you: Mortal maid Is
tho Valentino Hprlto until that fateful
morning whon tho littlo winged god
tiles from chambor to chamber and
touches slooplng eyes with tho feathor
end ot his arrow, then speods htm on
his way before tho whlto lids uncloso
In wonder and tho sweot glances go
forth with tho wisdom that Cupid
alono can glvo and each one Is touched
with tho powor of his arrow point.
Mortal maid sho Is not from that hour
until tho going down of tho sun, and
man la utterly helplesB against tho
subtlo witchery ot this mystic, love-
created bolng who beckons him Into
Elysium.
Andiyou, O youth, who scoff at tho
tlmo-honored prlvllcgo of sending to
some lady fair upon this day ot dayB a
plea from your heart, hidden and
Bhrlncd within boiuo dainty, perfumed
nest ot beauty, or who turn with n
SHE PEEPS FROM HUH CASEMENT
WINDOW.
laugh from tho memory plcturo ot
your great-great-grandfather burled
deop In tho lover's ecstasy and tho
poet's rapturo, as ho pons tho words
which shall bo his heart mossago to
his heart's dcslro, do not too lightly set
aside tho good old custom; at letftt,
wmtrtutMsmav blow.
:kmp6st and at storm: 3
put It away with tender rovoronce, for
tho spirits of those olden rites aro not
to bo flippantly consigned to oblivion.
On every hand tho Valentino Hprlto
uprises, nn avenger for any slight,
however small, which Is offered to hor
patron saint.
In tho midst of your scoffing you
hear n whisper nt your heart. You
blush and sigh and frown, but you lis
ten, nnd you feel tho pressing of tho
arrow point.
"Lovo, lovo, bo wholly mine;
Como nnd bo my valentine! "
How did tho music of It got into your
brain 7 From that tlmo forth you sigh
and serve. But this Is vengeanco that
tho Valentino Sprlto exacts. In tho
end you aro left walling In tho soil
tudo of your twentieth-century superi
ority:
"Love, love, bo wholly mine;
Como and bo my valentine!"
But it may- not bo.
Whllo for you, spirit of manly lovo,
with tho reverence of tradition in your
heart and tho loyal longing In your
soul, there Is a kinder fato. Tho Val
entino Sprite, with her dower of mystlo
wisdom, shall not beckon you but to
taunt. In tho far dlstanco of the futuro
years that bind you to her I hear tho
echo ot a tender strain:'
"Lovo, lovo, so wholly mine,
I am still thy valentine!"
O poor Mr. Postman, you never will
know
What ilno things you're carrying
there!
What dear little doves, Just as whlto
as tho snow,
What roses bo blushing and fair,
What nice littlo Cupid's, so smiling
nnd fnt,
What Bwoet littlo verses, all rhyming
bo pat.
0 poor Mr. Postman, I'm sorry for
youl
'Tl3 a vory hard lot, I must say,
To carrry such lovely things hidden
from vlow,
Nor get ono pcop Inside them nil
day;
And when merry St. Valentino's ended
nnd dono,
Tp havo given thorn all nwny, every
ono! 13. H. THOMAS.
A NEW KIND.
'Twas Just tho nicest valontlno
That camo to mo today;
A protty box, and on tho top
A littlo lettor lay,
Which Bald:
"I know a little maid,
She Isn't far to seek;
No dainty wild roso pctnl
Is pinker than hor chcok;
Thcro is no shining hazelnut
That's browner than her cyo.
Just look within tho box, my dear,
This littlo maid you'll spy."
Ot course I was in hnsto to sco
So fair and swoet a lass.
I raUod tho lid, within I found
A tiny looking-glass!
Helon S. Perkins.
Death of
Lincoln
"Now ho bolongs to tho ages."
Tho curtain had Just been rung down
over tho llfo of tho martyred president
In that humble littlo room opposite the
thoator whero tho president had, a few
hours, before received tho bullet of
tho assassin Booth. E. M. Stanton,
sccrotnry of war, gavo uttoranco to tho
words quoted. How prophetic; how
true. Centuries henco tho namo ot
Abraham Lincoln will still retain Us
rightful placo in history.
Tho president had been carried up
tho high steps, through a narrow hall,
and laid, still unconscious, still mo
tionless, on tho bod ot a poor, little,
commonplaco room ot a commonplace
lodging-house, whero surgeons and
physicians gathered about In a desper
ate attempt to rescuo him from
death.
Whllo tho surgeons worked tho nows
was spreading to tho town. Every man
and woman tn tho theater rushed forth
to tell It. Some ran wildly down tho
streets, exclaiming to thoso they mot,
"Tho president Is killed! Tho presi
dent Is killed!" Ono rushed In a ball
room and told It to tho dancers; an
othor, bursting Into a room whero a
party ot eminent public mon
wero playing cards, cried, "Lin
coln Is shot!" Another, run
ning Into tho auditorium ot Grovor's
thoator, cried, "President Lincoln has
been shot, In his prlvato box, In Ford's
theater." Thoso who heard tho cry
thought tho man lnsnno or drunk, but
a momont later they saw tho actors
In a combat cnllod from tho stage, tho
manager coming forwnrd. His faco was
palo his volco agonized, as ho said,
"Ladles and gentlemen, I feel It my
duty to say to you that tho announce
ment niado from tho front ot tho the
ater Just now Is truo President Lin
coln has been shot." Ono ran to sum
mon Socretary Stanton. A boy picked
up at tho door ot tho house whero the
president lay was sent to tho Whlto
Iioubo for Robert Lincoln. Tho nows
Bpread by tho very forco of Its own
horror, and as It spread It met other
news no less terrible. At tho samo
hour that Booth had sent tho ball into
tho president's brain a man had forcod
his way into tho houso of Secretary
Seward, then lying In bed with a
broken arm, and had stabbed both tho
secretary and his son Frodorlck so so
rlously that It was feared thoy would
die. In bis entrance and exit ho had
wounded threo othor membors of tho
household, Llko Booth, ho had es
caped. Horror bred rumor, and Secre
tary Stanton, too, was reported wound
od, whllo later It was said that Grant
had beon klllod on his way north.
Dread solzod tho town. "Rumors nro
bo thick," wrote tho editor ot tho
National Intolllgcncer, at 2 o'clock in
tho morning, "tho excitement of this
hour Is so intenso that wo rely entire
ly upon our reporters to advlso tho
public ot the dotalls and result ot this
night ot horrors. Evidently conspira
tors ar among us. To what extent
does tho conspiracy exist? This Is a
terrible question. When a spirit so
horrlblo as this is abroad, what man
Is safe? Wo can only advlso tho ut
most vlgllanco and the most prompt
measures by tho authorities. Wo can
only pray God to shield us, his worthy
people, from further calamities llko
these."
Tho civil nnd military authorities
prepared for attack from within and
without. Martial Jaw was nt onco
established. Tho long roll was beaten;
excry exit from tho city was guarded;
out-going trains wero stopped; mount
ed pollco nnd cavalry clattered up and
down the street; the forts wero or
dered on tho alert; guns wero manned.
In tho meantime thero had gathered
in tho house on Tenth street, whero
tho president lny, his family physician
and intlmato friends, as well as many
prominent officials. Before thoy
reached him It was known thoro was
no hope, that tho wound wns fatal.
They grouped themselves about tho
bedsldo or In the adjoining rooms, try
ing to comfort the weeping wife, or
listening awo-strlcken to tho steady
moaning and labored breathing ot the
unconscious man, which at times could
bo heard all over tho house. Stanton
alono seemed ablo to act methodically.
No man felt tho tragedy moro than tho
great war secretary, for np one in tho
cabinet was by greatness of heart and
Intellect eo well ablo to comprehend
tho worth ot tho dying president, but
no man In that distracted night nctcd
with greater energy or calm. Sum
moning tho assistant secretary, C. A.
Dann, and a stenographer, ho began
dictating orders to the authorities on
nil sides, notifying thorn of the trag
edy, directing them what precautions
DEATH OF LINCOLN "HE NOW
BELONGS TO THE AGES."
(From tho Palnttns.)
to take, what persons lo arrest. Grant,
now returning to Washington, ho di
rected, should bo warned to keep closo
watch on all persons who camo closo
to him in tho cars and to sco that an
cnglno bo sent in front of his train.
Ho scut out, too, un ofllclal account ot
tho assassination. Today tho best
brief account ot the night's awful work
remains tho ono which Secretary Htun
ton dictated within sound of tho moan
ing of the dying president
And so the hours changed without
perceptible change In the president's
condition, and with only slight shift
ing of tho sceno nround him. Tho tes
timony of those who had witnessed tho
murder began to bo takon In an ad
joining room. Occasionally tho tlgures
at tho bedsldo changed. Mrs. Lincoln
camo In at Intervals, sobbing out hor
grief, nnd then wns led away. This
man went, another took his place. It
was not until daylight that thoro camoN
a perceptlblo change. Then tho breath
ing grew quieter, the faco became moro
calm. Tho doctors at Lincoln's sldo
know that dissolution was near. Their
bulletin of 6 o'clock read: "Pulso fall
ing;" that of G:30, "Still falling;" that
of 7, "Symptoms of Immediate dissolu
tion," and then at 7:20, in tho prosonco
of his son Robert, Secretaries Stanton,
Welles and Usher, Atty.-Gen. Speed.
Senator Sumner, Prlvato Becrctnry
Hay, Dr. Gurley, his pastor and several
physicians and friends, Abraham Lin
coln died. Thero was a prayer, and
then tho solemn volco of Stanton
broko tho stillness, "Now ho bolongs
to the ages."
Two hours later tho body of tho
president, wrapped In an American
Hag, was borne from tho houso lm
Tenth street, and carried through the.
hushed streets, whero already thou
sands of flags were at half-mast and
the gay buntings and garlands had
been replaced by black draperies, and
whero tho mon who for days had been
cheering In excess of Joy and relief
now stood with uncovered heads and
wet eyes. Thoy carried him to nn Up
per room in the prlvato apartmentB of
the whlto houso, and thoro ho lay until
three days later a heart-broken pooplo
claimed their right to look for a last
tlmo on his faco.
LINCOLN AND THE SENTINEL.
In an artlclo in the Century entitled
"Our Follow Citizen of tho Whlto
Houco," Mr. C. C. Buel told tho follow
ing story of Prcsldont Lincoln:
"Thoro havo been no soldiers ns guar
dians under tho shadow of tho great
Ionic columns since war; and oven
then, on ono florco winter night, tho
boy In blue who was on guard was not
allowed to maintain professional de
corum. Mr. Lincoln emerged from tho
front door, his lank figure bont over
as ho drew tightly about his shoulders
tho shawl which ho employed for such
protection, for ho was on his way to
tho war department, at tho west cor
ner of tho grounds, whero In times of
battle ho was wont to got tho midnight
dispatches from tho field. As tho blast
struck him ho thought of tho numb
ness of tho pacing sentry, and, turning
to him, said: 'Young man, you've got
a cold Job to-night; stop Insldo and
stand guard thoro.'
" 'My ordors keep mo out here,' tho
soldier replied.
" 'Yes,' said tho prcsldont, In his ar
gumontlve tone, 'but tho duty can bo
performed Just as woll inside as out
hore, and you'll oblige mo by going
In.'
" 'I havo boon stationed outsldo,' tho
soldier answered, and resumed his
beat.
'"Hold on thoro!' said Mr. Lincoln,
as ho turned back again; 'It occurs to
mo that I am commander-in-chief of ,
the army, and I ordor you to go In- V
HIUUi
i
