Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 14 February 1896 — Page 4

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"FAFE IFI FEBRUARY.'

[A alentine.]

Wlien all the fields are white with BHOW* And February's sun is fair, With Leila's dimpled face aglow,

What care I for the winter air?

Companioned so within the sleigh, Her silver voice is cheer enough, And while the horses speed away

One hand I clasp within the muff.

Her lily lidded, azure eyes Add to the quick, electric thrill, Tor now two human destinies

Depend upon a maiden's will.

The friendly south wind's soft caress Bespeaks a solution fair, And one unruly, roguish tress

Palls where it banishes despair.

Upon a wayside orchard bole We note the frisky chickadee. He seems to say, "Upon my soul,

Two precious fools, oh, see, oh, see!'

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m-.it wont he give If, from its lwsrk, Ho conk! to joy like this, Or, when the evening shades grow dark,

Imprint tho repetitious kiss?

Dear I,oi1n, though the spring delay, And ail the summer turn to snow, Our lives are pledged to endless May,

And nothing else I curt! to know. JOEL BENTON.

THE LEADING LADY

A YALICXTINE DAY SKETCH.

[Copyright, 1800, by American Press Association. Miss Blanche Defoo, leading lady of the Walkback Dramatic company, was in a very bail humor as sho stepped off the train at Grovovi'.le. The weather had something to do with it, no doubt. It was weather such as the English describe as "beastly," yet it was characteristic of

But uje weather was nrt all to blamo. Miss Defoo Lad been a leading lady for three months, and she was thoroughly disgusted with the stage. She had worked for several years with this ambition in view, and now that she had reached it sho wished that her lot had been east anywhere' but on tho stage.

The prospect was certainly not alluring. Tho tour of the Walkback Dramatic company had not been successful. .Salaries had not been paid sinco the first week out, and now there was a possibility that the -entire combination would be stranded in come out of the way nook on the New England circuit.

She envied the young women whom she saw in the cheerful homes she passed by in her walk to tho barnliko hotel. They liad fond mothers and kind fathers probably and friends whom they had known ifor years. They did not have to travel all day in drafty, uncomfortable cars, eat *their meals at railroad restaurants and Tronder on what day they would bo left penniless among strangers.

Yet she realized that these same young vomen envied her. "Fools, every one," she muttered to herjself and followed the rest of tho company -£nto the hotel.

In fact, a good many people in Grove--jyjlle were feeling rather sour that day. THJO rain that had begun at daylight was •mtdU falling steadily and was turning the !0aow into slush that seemed to exert a dampening and chilling influence over evj#rything and everybody.

John Briokley was perhaps the most ^cheerful man in town. Just why we will later. Let us state right here that the walls and boar fences of Groveville Jwd announced for seven successive days 4bat

on

Fob- the Walkback Dramatic

fwmpany, "a grand aggregation of histri--3

"HEBE'S A PACKAGE FOR YOU, THEN." KOio stars," would present the ever popudrama of "Fanchon, the Cricket," in V'! the opera house.

The prophecy of the posters had come |p pass. It was St. Valentine's day, and Walkback Dramatio company was '4, then. The citizens did not seem to be un-

Inly excited over the fact, however. The "histrionic stars" themselves were soon ¥•. ipmiw aware of this. Their Information from the manager soon after his re3 torn from a visit to the local celebrity de0 Bribed on the programmes as "lessee and

Manager."

•'WeiVwhat "lack?" inquired theleadinf man as the manager deposited his dripping umbrella in a corner of the hotel corridor. "Same as usual, d—n poor. Small advance sales. Probably won't have $50 in the house tonight.'' "Even the weather's against us," dolefully remarked the leading man. "Yes, and everything else. Let's go get a drink."

And they did. John Briokley didn't care a snap for the weather. He had said so a dozen times that afternoon to the customers who had come splashing in out of the wet. Why should he? In the center of his well stocked grocery a big salamander stove blazed away cheerfully, and he was warm and dry.

Besides this, John was something of a philosopher. So is any man who has been successful. It comes easy when fortune smiles. And John considered that fortune had smiled on him. He had a good business, a neat bank account and nothing to worry him. John helped himself to a cigar from the showcase, swung himself into an easy position on the counter and fell to gazing at a lithograph which hung in his storo window. It was a picture of Miss Blanche Defoe, leading lady of the Walkback Dramatic company. "Mighty handsome young lady," John soliloquized. "Hanged if 1 don't shut up early tonight and go to see that show."

John continued to gaze at the picture. He had very little else to do, as customers were scarce.

John's gazing ended in his making another determination. Ho felt quite pleased and not a little astonished with himself after he had made it. He chuckled frequently as he ate his supper that night. "I wonder what the fellows will say to that?" he remarked audibly. Evidently he had matured a scheme in his mind and was picturing the surprise of his friends when he should relate it to them.

John Briokley was quite a favorite among the young men in town. He went to Boston several times a year and had even spent a week in New York. No one doubted that he could liavo married almost any girl in the village had ho so chosen. But he didn't choose. He said ho was going to look around a little before he got married.

So John Brickley, being highly satislied with himself, was convinced that his scheme, whatever it was. was a brilliant and original one. However, it did not interfere with his attending the production of "Fanchon, tho Cricket," at the opera house that evening.

Ho was there in a front seat and a component part of the slim audience that awaited the rise of the curtain.

Behind the footlights there was gloom. The "histrionic stars" were, as a local sceno shifter expressed it, "readin tho riot act to tiie boss." They woro making a combined onslaught on the manager.

Miss Blanche Defoe was just having her say. "If the ghost doesn't walk within a week, I'm going to shake tho whole business, and that's a straight tip. See?" she concluded with an angry stamp of her foot. "You'll llnd the walking bad," retorted tho manager with a weak at-tcmjit at a laugh.

Miss Defoe did not consider this ancient joke worthy of reply, but inarched off

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"WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF TIIE OKIGINAL?" haughtily to tho back of the stage and sat down on a trunk.

Just then an usher came in from the front of tho house and asked for Miss Defoe. "That's me," she said. "Hero's a package for you, then." "Now I wonder what this is," she said as she read the address and noticed that there wore no postage stamps on the parcel. "Why don't you open it and see?" remarked the "leading old lady," who had just joined her. "Good idea," and Miss Defoo proceeded to break the string and tear off the paper wrapping. A pasteboard box was disclosed, and on the cover was written: "From a fond admirer."

Miss Defoe took off the cover and lifted out a gorgeous creation of blue satin, silk cords and paper lace. "A valentine, by all that's tragic," she exclaimed. "And a very pretty one, too," said the leading old lady. "You must have made a hit, my dear." "All up for the first scene," was the call which interrupted further discussion of the valentine and its mysterious sender.

Miss Defoe went on and capered through the first act as Fanchon with considerably more spirit than any of the other members of the cast could muster. She was thinking of something besides her lines, though.

When the act was over, she took advantage of the wait which the inexperienced 6cene shifter caused and sent for the ushsr who had brought her the valentine. "Do you know the person who sent that package to mo?" sho askod.

The usher dit^. He knew all about him and was most happy to give Miss Defoe all tho details concerning John Brickley. He even pointed out to her tho unsuspecting John through a peephole in the curtain. "Come back hero after tho next act," said Miss Defoe to tho usher. "I want you to take a note to him."

Miss Doloe was a young lady who could

act with great promptness on occasions. The note was duly dolivered, and as a result John Brickley found himself waiting in tho parlor of tho hotel at 11:15 p. m. that same night, his heart beating somewhat rapidly, but with a determination to soo tho thing through.

When the actress swept in, clothed in a neat fitting tailor made suit, John felt the last bit of his solf possession slipping away from him. He had always been free from embarrassment when in the oompany of any of the village belles, but before this dashing young woman it was different. Miss Dofoe, however, quickly broke tho ice. "Is it you I have to thankV^or the very

pretty valentine

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received this evening?"

•he asked, with a gracious smile. "Why, yes. I—er—I took the liberty." "It was very kind of you to remember me." "I—I had seen your picture," said John hesitatingly, "and I thought you were Very—that is—I admired it, and—and"— "I see," said Miss Defoe, with an effective little laugh. "Well, what do you think of the original?"

John's face grew very red at this frank question, but he was equal to the emergency. "I think you're just as pretty as the picture, Miss Defoe, and—and a little prettier, hanged if I don't."

Miss Defoe laughed—not a stage "ha ha," but a genuine laugh. Her black eyes sparkled with humor, and she certainly deserved tho honest compliment. "It's very nice of you to say so, I'm sure.'' "Well, I mean every word of it," said John, encouraged by his success. "Do you? Well, there was something in the valentine—something in the way of verses," continued Miss Defoe. "Onecouplet ran like this: "If I but thought that you'd be mine,

I'd like to be your Valentine. "Then, of course, you meant that also." Now John had not read the verses. In fact, he had not known that there wero any verses at all. He had conceived the sending of a valentine to the leading lady of the Walkback Dramatic company as a bold but harmless conceit from which he would nover hear a word, but about which he might weave a very pretty romance with which to entertain and surprise his friends. He looked at Miss Defoe, and his embarrassment returned. Still he was not a faint hearted young man, and he admired a woman who could talk like that. "Did you mean it?" sho repeated. "Yes, by gum, I did," burst out John, with honest intensity. "Did you really, now? Well, if you did, I might tell you that I've about decided to leave the stage for good." "Do you mean that you would—you would"— "Take you for a valentine?" interrupted Miss Defoo. "I will, and right now."

When the Walkback Dramatic company left town tho next day, the leading lady was missing. She wTrote a note to the manager, making him a present of the three weeks' salary duo her and resigning her position. The wedding took place that next day, and John Brickley says that, although it was a mistake, ho has never regretted sending that valentine.

SE'WELL FORD.

Unique Valentines From Uracil. Somo of the most oxpensivo valentines come from far away Brazil. Deep in the heart of that country of torrid clime there is a convent where live nuns with deft Angers and ingenious minds. They uso the gorgeous rfouth American humming birds, which can be found by thousands in their convont gardens, in making unique and beautiful valentines. These are sent to London, where they bring big prices when February comes around.

A Cure For Love's Malady.

A witty and sentimental physician has prescribed the following sure cure lor "the malady of love:"

Hearts, ii. Love, ad lib. Mix the hearts well together. Add the love and take frequently.

Hymen & Wedlock, Chemists, Feb. 14. Cupid, M. D.

Timely Jokes.

The king of hearts—Diamonds. Never look a gift valentine in the verse. Cupidity has no connection with Cupid Ifcty.

To Mistress Bessie.

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell I love her well! Yes, though she tramples on my heart And rends that bleeding tiring apart, And though she rolls a scornful eye On doting me when I go by, And though she scouts at everything As tribute unto her I bring— Apple, banana, caramel— Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell, In spite of all, I love her well I

And, further, say I have a sled Cushioned in blue and painted red. The groceryman has promised I Can "hiteh" whenever he goes by. Go tell her that, and, furthermore, Apprise my sweetheart that a score Of other little girls implore The boon of riding on that sled, Painted and hitched as aforesaid, And tell her, Cupid, only she Shall ride upon that sled with me I

Tell her this all, and, further, tell I love her well! —Eugene Field.

From Far Brazil.

The custom of sending valentines is confined to no one country, but obtains in some shape nearly tho world over. Deep in the heart of Brazil, where one would think the day had no fame at all, is a largo convent. It stands in a land of cloudless skies, gorgeous birds and beautiful flowers. The feathers of the birds and the leaves of the flowers are so mingled by the deft fingers of the nuns who inhabit tho convent that they are in great demand for valentines in England and other countries. They find their way, with valentines made from the delicate moss from the bottom of the Mediterranean sea, to tho fashionable bookshops of London, where on the 14th of February, they pass to the parlors of the beauties of the season.

More than one young girl has opened on the auspicious day a box covered with postage stamps to find therein a real South American humming bird, holding in its tiny beak a billet inscribed with the sentiments of the day. These unique valentines are costly and of surpassing beauty, and the nuns of the Brazilian convent put many a penny into the urn of charity by their delicate ingenuity.

It Often Ended Happily.

In the last century, on the eve of St. Valentine's day, tho young folks in England and Scotland celebrated the festival. An equal number of maids and bachelors came together, and each wrote his or lior name upon a separate billet, which was rolled up and placed in a box. Then the females drew by lot from the males' names and the latter from tho names of tho females. After this tho valentines, as tho chosen ones were called, gave parties to their frientfx, eaoh valentine wearing the billet on his or hor sleeve for several days. This little sport often ended in an engagement of marriage.

A Lawyer'* Valentine.

I'm notified, fair neighbor mine, By one of our profession That this the terra of Valentine

Is Cupid's special session. viss Permit me, therefore, to report Myself on this occasion j••• Quito ready to proceed to court

And file my declaration. Oliver Wendell Holmes.

A PAIR OF RASCALS.

TWO MEN WHO ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOTS OF WOE.

The Artist Who Draws the Pictures on the Comio Valentines and the Harvard Graduate Who Writes the Poetry—Millions of Penny Viliflers.

Two men aro responsible for tho entire crop of comic valentines which spread bitterness and woe throughout our fair land once a year at just about this time. One of them is a Harvard graduate. He perpetrates the verse. The other is an artist who learned to wield his brush with a far nobler aim in view.

It is well that there aro two of them, for they divide tho awful responsibility. Tho poet's name is Edward Rignoy. The artist is one Edgars. They both live in Brooklyn. ANew York man might think that was punishment enough for them. Let us hope that the recording angel will think so, too, for they have a lot to answer for.

Let us just do a little figuring on the subject. There aro 20,000,000 "comics" printed and circulated every year. Suppose only 15,000,000 of these aro purchased and sent. If only two-thirds of the victims relieved their lacerated feelings by the use of profanity—we will say that the other 5,000,000 are women and professing Christians—that would leave 10,000,000 who would fracture the second commandment. Each man would, wo will say, use on an average of five bad words, some beginning with a big and others best represented by dashes, thus That would give a total of 50,000,000 profane words.

Now theso two men havo been at this business for about 15 years, and if tho wrath of the people or tho hand of Providence does not strike them down they may continue in their evil doing for 10 years more, a total of 25 years. Thus in 25 years they will have been tho indirect producers of 1,250,000,000 profane words, or enough to make 10,000 good sized volumes.

What an awful responsibility to contemplate! But theso men don't look at it in that way. They seem to think that the eujoyment of good salaries in this lifo is of far more importanco than a bright hereafter.

Both of them perhaps hope that t.hoir Work on sentimental lines will offset tho other. Mr. Edgars not, only draws the hid-

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THE SCORCHER—BOUND TO BE POPULAR, eous faces of the "comics," but ho is an adept in painting pink Cupids, rod hearts —always arrow pierced—and dainty forgetmenots, lilies of the valley and other floral decorations.

Artist Edgars is a man of about 30, but for 14 years he has been doing this sort of work. Consequently he has attained a wonderful dexterity with the brush. Ho can tako a plain piece of cardboard or celluloid, and with a few dabs of his brush make it blossom like a fairy garden. Ho takes a dainty satin covered card, spreads tho colors around on it recklessly for a minute, and, behold! ho has produced something to delight tho heart of somo pretty maiden.

In somo respects Mr. Edgars is to bo envied. Ho has moro facilities for "getting even" than any other man on earth. When the average man is insulted by an insolent street car conductor, snubbed by a saucy dry goods clerk or imposed upon by a butcher, baker or candlestick maker, ho can only address a little fleeting, evanescent profanity at the individual offender.

Not so Mr. Edgars. He just keeps quiet, smiles in a bland, self satisfied way, goes to his den and draws a picture of the man or woman, and has a few hundred thousand of them struck off. Thus does he wreak his vengeance not on one person alone, but on all of that kidney. If he is angry, he can, by a few strokes of his brush, insult about 600,000 total strangers. What czar or sultan could do more?

And Mr. Rigney helps him out. He takes the nightmare sketches and writes verses for them—verses which tip the arrow with gall and wormwood, which make the victim rant and tear and say things.

But there is a compensating side to all this. There are 70,000,000 souls of us in Uncle Sam's domain, and we probably all know at least half a dozen persons on whom we would like to inflict a comio.

\W\M

THE OLD MAID—ALWAYS SELLS WELL. But wo don't. No, only about 20,000,000 of us indulge in this sort of thing, and there is a whole lot of comfort for the hu-

Ever sinco last Valentine's day the artist and the poet have been at work on this year's vintage. Eaoh season offers new subjects for tholr satirical pen and brush.

Bicycle riders, of course, have come in for a share of their attention. There

Saakegood

the bloomer girl. Oh, how she doos atoh it I Now neither of the two men who the valentines has anything personal against the bloomer girl. They have

said so. sifBut business is business. The manufacturers knew that there would be a big demand for this style of cheap valentine. So they went to work on the poor bloomer girl and pictured her in all sorts of outrageous styles and in all degrees of exaggerated hideousness. Poor bloomer girll May her sensitive nature be steeled against theso envious darts.

Tho male bicyclist gets it, too, from the scorcher to tho knickerbockered spindleshanks. One of the new comics represents the scorcher as a death's head and skeleton riding a wheel and slaughtering tho innocents who cross his path. "It has become almost rsechanical," he said to the interviewer. The designs I use do not vary much. It is impossible, of course, to get anything new. I use a camel's hair brush and water colors. Then you know how a very few strokes will finish up a valentine."

Tho new woman also has her share of woe in store for her. A score of freshly designed comics which havo been reproduced almost by the ton lie in wait for her on the valentine venders' counters, and on Feb. 14 the whole machinery of the United States mail service is put at tho disposal of those who wish to send them. All the eccentricities of up to date fashion are seized upon and exaggerated by tho comics and made to serve tho purpose of tho anonymous vilifier.

Then there are the scores of people whom the Valentino man has for years regarded as old standbys. They will not be forgotten. The old maid, tho dude, the policeman, the loafer, the iceman, tho plumber, all will have their pet foibles and weaknesses held up to them in distorted fashion like tho imago in an imperfect mirror.

CYRUS SYLVESTEIJ.

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

How It Used to Be Celebrated and Bow It Is Now. "When we were children, St. Valentine's day ranked with Christmas and Fourth of July in much anticipated pleasure and in tho simple delights that wero attendant upon the coming of tho lovers' saint. Tho little girl who did not havo at least a half dozen valentines to show was considered very unpopular indeed, and so strong was this feeling that parents, fearing lest the youths of the neighborhood might not bo blessed with sufficient money to favor every little girl and knowing what a disappointment the absence of tho postman's knock would mean to their small daughters, would prowl out tho night before and buy up paper hearts and gay little Cupids presiding over verses that breathed of love and darts rhyming with dove and hearts.

The eider ones regarded the sentimental side of the affair only and did not mind if but one missive wero received, provided it was from tho one. a fact which was generally speedily discovered, despite the disguised handwriting and other mysteries attached to tho delivery of it. Today the hideously ugly penny dreadfuls anil tho paper stage scenes havo given place to more substantial offerings, and tho day is colebrated in quite a different manner.

Now largo and beautiful boxes, filled with bonbons and tied with ribbon on which some sentiment'appropriate to the day is painted, are the gifts generally exchanged. A candy Cupid presiding over a bouquet of lovely blossoms, or sprays of flowers tumbling in artistic disorder from a silver or gold heart or a quiver and arrows of tiny buds, aro all tho up to date gifts of the modern valentine.

In tho country tho lads and lasses used to hang baskets of early spring blossoms on each other's doorbells, or if winter had lingered until tho day of tho mating of birds paper flowers were substit uted. Today they give a valentine, luncheon or party, and the tables take tho sliapo of hearts, the candlo shades become opening roses, arid a little pink Cupid bearing its own valentine is the souvenir for the guests.

The simpler forms of entertaining and cclcbratiug on every occasion havo givon way to tho moro extravagant and tho moro artistic modes, and in nothing is this moro notiocablo than in tho evolution of the Valentino and the gayetios that mark tho day of which it is tho leading feature.

The Valentine Kiss.

In many parts of England and Scotland it is still customary, as it has been for many centuries, for young men and women to regard their valentine the first person of the opposite sex whom their eyes behold on the morning of St. Valentine's Hay, and they have the right to claim the fald valentine with a kiss which he or she in honor bound to accord without resistance or remonstrance of any kind.

American

O Stories by

Six American Writers

Is the feast we have prepared for our readers. They are tales of more than ordinary interest. Here are their names:

Will Lisenbee

Harry Stillwell Edwards

Alfred R. Calhoun

Alice E. Ives

Martha McC. Williams

Captain T. J. Mackey

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manilarIans in that. Then thoro aro lots of people who send oomics, not out of pure malice, but because they think it is funny. It may bo— to the sonder. I

If you know these writers you will watch for the stories. If you clo not know them take this opportunity to make their acquaintance. The stories are v.

Copyrighted and Illustrated

'1

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Schedule of Passenger Irains-Central Time.

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Eastward. Indianapolis—lv Irvington Cumberland Philadelphia (Jreenfleld... Cleveland ohr.rlott3Yille Kniffhtstown" Dnnreith liowisville ... Sir iwns Dublin Cambridge City... (ieriniintown" Centreville.. Richmond ... New Paris.. Wileys N.Madison.. Weavers

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A lea Flag Stop.

Krus. •?. and 20 connect at Columbus frf ^Itsburg''. a'oi tlo Kast, ant at. Richmond lot Jay ton, 'Xenia and Springf .-'d, and Xo.20 for :mcinnuti.

Tra'ns leave Cambridge v?it at. t7 05 a. in. nd f2 00 1'. for Husliville, Slu'loyville, 'imbu.s and int.ernied.ate stations. Arrlvo ,'nmbridgo City f12.30 and +6.35 P* IO.SEPII WOOD, E. V. FORD,

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0-20-95-K. PITTSBURGH, PENS A. For time cards, ratesof fare, through tickets, baggage checks and further information re

Hiding the running of trains apply to any ^irent of the Penuuylvania Lines.

One of tho best whist players In ilns oountry is Mrs. Lucia Runkle, who la alsc a litorary worker. Sho Is a wonderfullj good player, with a young daughter whe is growing up to be no less remarkable In that rospoot.

Mrs. J. Stanley Brown (Mollio Garfield) la one of tho ino3t popular young matrons in Washington. She Is a brunette, with warm golden brown hair, large dark eyei And an exquisite complexion. She hai three children.

Mrs. Custer is a handsome woman, whose hair is only beginning to turn gray, and whose face shows few signs of thi tragedy through which she lived 20 yean ago. She is a delightful but very earnest talker and takes life more Beriously than