xt72z31ngn5b https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt72z31ngn5b/data/mets.xml Page, Thomas Nelson, 1853-1922. 190618  books b92-230-31280747v10 English C. Scribner's sons, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Novels, stories, sketches, and poems of Thomas Nelson Page (vol. 10) text Novels, stories, sketches, and poems of Thomas Nelson Page (vol. 10) 1906 2002 true xt72z31ngn5b section xt72z31ngn5b 









PLANTATION

  EDITION



  VOLUME X

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::-I

I t
E:

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NOVELS, STORIES,



SKETCHES ANL POEMS"- OF
THOMAS NELSON PAGE 14i



   PASTIME STORIES

        POEMS








CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK, 4      1906



Afi TH E

 

























   PASTIME STORIES
   Copyright, 1894, by
   HARPER & BROS.


 Copv-iiht, IS9,. 1906, by
 CHARLES SCRIBYER'S SONS


        POEMIS
 Copyrizht. IARS, 1906, by
CHARLES SCRIENER'S SONS


  AU Rights Reserved

 









                 CONTENTS


PASTIME STORIES                               PAGE
   HOW JENNY EASED HER MIND.. . . . . . . . .     3
   BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE.. . . . . . . . . . 15
   OLD SUE. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .       28
   THE PROSECUTION OF MRS. DULLET  . . . . . . . 34
   ISRUL'S BARGAIN... . . . . . . . . . .      42
   THE TRUE STORY OF THE SURRENDER OF THE MARQUIS
      CORNWAWS    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
   WHEN LITTLE MORDICAI WAS AT THE BAR . . . . . 59
   CHARLIE WHITTLER'S CHRISTMAS PARTY   . . . . . 69
   HOW RELIUS " BOSSED THE RANCH-- . . . . . . . 80
   ONE FROM FOUR. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . 87
   THE DANGER OF BEING TOO THOROUGH . . . . . . 93
   UNCLE JACK'S VIEWS ON GEOGRAPHY . . . . . . . 99
   SHE HAD ON HER GERANIUM LEAVES . . . . . . . 104
   A STORY OF CHARLES HARRIS.. . . . . . . . . 111
   HE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN A LAWYER  . . . . . . 115
   HOW ANDREW CARRIED THE PRECINCT . . . . . . 121
   " RASMUS.... . . . . . . . . . . . . .  . . 136
   HER SYMPATHETIC EDITOR.. . . . . . . . . . 142
   HE KNEW WHAT WAS DUE TO THE COURT . . . . . 152
   HER GREAT-GRANDMOTHER'S GHOST . . . . . . . 159
   RACHEL'S LOVERS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172
   JOHN'S WEDDING SUIT... . . . . . . . . . . 187
   WHEN THE COLONEL WAS A DUELLIST   . . . . . . 198

 

                    CONTENTS
POENIS
   DEDICATION
   THE COAST OF BOHEMIA  .
   THE VOICE OF THE SEA .
   LONG ROLL AT NAPOLEON'S TOMB.
   THE PRINCESS'S PROGRESS .
   YOUTH.
   AMERICA: GREETING ......
   DAWN   . . . .  . . . . .   .
   THE POET ON AGRADINA  .
   THE SHEPHERD OF THE SEAS .
   SLEEP .
   TO A LADY AT A SPRING  .
   UNFORGOTTEN.
   THE OLD LION
   THE DRAGON OF THE SEAS
   THE BENT MONK
   THE MESSAGE .
   THE NEEDLE'S EYE .
   THE CLOSED DOOR .
   CONVENTION.
   THE MAGDALEN .
   THE REQUIREMENT .
   THE LISTENER
   CONTRADICTION.
   THE QUESTION.
   OUR DEAD .
   MY MOTHER . . . . . . . . .
   HER INFLUENCE. . . . . . . .
   MATTHEW ARNOLD    . . .. .
   THE STRANGER . . . .
   LOVE.
                        VI



             PAGE
  ...... ........211
  .............213
  ....4. 217
  ...... ........221
  .............224
  .............227
  ..............228
  ..............230
  ...............231
  ..............232
    .... .......233
. i .......... 234
................235
  ..............236
  ..............237
  ...............241
  ...... 244
  .............246
  .............249
  .............250
  ..............251
  .............252
  .............253
  .............253
  .............254
  .............256
  .............258
  .............260
  ..............261
  .............262
  .... .........264

 



                 CONTENTS

AN OLD REFRAIN  .
TO CLAUDIA .
THE APPLE TREES AT EVEN
MY TRUE-LOVE'S WEALTH .
A VALENTINE .
A PORTRAIT.
FELICE
LOVE SONG
THE HARBOUR LIGHT.
FADED SPRAY OF MIGNONETTE.
LOST ROSES
DE NAME OF OLE VIRGINIA SONG
THE DANCER .



               PAGE
...................265
....... ..........268
      ... .....269
........ ............271
........ ...........273
...................274
........ ...........275
...................277
....... ..........278
...................279
...... ........ o .280
........ ............281
...................282



THE APRIL-FACE; OR, THE STUB-TAILED MULE.



   COME BACK TO US, DAVIE .
   THE WITCH
   HUMANITY.
   REALITY. . . . . . .
   ASPIRATION
   LITTLE DOLLY DIMPLE .
   A VALENTINE .

DIALECT POEMS (From " Befo' de \
   UNCLE GABE'S WHITE FOLKS
   LITTLE JACK.
   ASHCAKE .......
   ZEKYL'S INFIDELITY. . . .
   MARSE PHIL  . . .. ..
   ONE MOURNER.
   L-ENVOYV....    .., .



. . . . . . . . .         . 285
. . . . . . . .. . 287
... . . . . . . . 287
  ........ . . . . .  .. 27
  ... . . . . . . 288
  ...... ..... 289
  ..... . . . .  . 290

lar )
........ . . . I . .   .. 293
.. ....... . 2
.. ....... . 300
..... . . . . .  . 303
  .... .306
...           310
. . . . . . . .aI, 313



vu



. . . 283

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                 ILLUSTRATIONS

               From Drawings by A. B. Frost.


"' I WAS IN LINDMAN'S BED'-'.... . .. . . . . . Frontispiece
                                            FACING PAGE
"'YOUR PA    NEVER WOULD       'A' STOOD NO SICH 'THING
  AS DAT "' .                                     1.... .  .   . . .. . . . -    . 112

"'YOU KNOWS DEM CRUEL S'CIETY ANIMALS IS LOOKIN'
   'ROUND '.... . . .. . . .. . . . .. . . .. . . 140

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PREFACE



IT used to be the custom for a writer on coming
before the public to address a word to the
"gentle reader," a custom which had this
double advantage: that the author had his
"word," and the reader, on his side, was not
obliged to hear it. I wish now to avail myself
of this old custom, and my gentle readers, if
such there shall be, may take advantage of their
privilege also. I will slmply say that no one
will be as sensible of the demerits of these
stories as I am  myself.  So, my "gentle
reader," we agree on that point at least. If you
ask me why, then, I wrote them, I will say
truthfully, because I was asked and chose to do
so. Then, why did I publish them Because I
found a publisher.
  There are some good stories in the lot, old
stories which have survived for generations-
                     xi

 
                PREFACE
one, I am satisfied, for at least a century- and
if they do not read well, it is because I have
marred them in the telling. This is as much my
misfortune as yours; so do not complain, when
I have tried to entertain you. The only persons
who have that right are my friends, Major
J. Horace Lacy, Connelly F. Trigg, Polk Mil-
ler, Henry W. Hobson, William F. Gordon, Jr.,
and a few others, who told me stories too good
to be lost, whether I have been able to preserve
them or not.
  I must make my acknowledgments to "Porte
Crayon" for an incident in "Rachel's Lovers;"
and if, "gentle reader," I can excite your cu-
riosity so far as to make you go back to that
early and delightful chronicle of old Virginia
life, you will owe me a debt of gratitude which
will offset all my deficiencies.

                       THOS. NELSON PAGE.



Xli

 















PASTIMIE STORIES

 
























          TO
 ALL GOOD STORY-TELLERS
WHO HAVE SWEETENED LIFE
   WITH THEIR HUMOR

 







  HOW JINNY EASED HER
                 MIND


U NCLE BEN WILLIAMSON was as well
  T known in town as tPe mayor or the gov-
ernor. He was an "old-time darky," and to
this character owed his position, which was a
good one. He had been "Boy" about law of-
fices in the Law Building ever since the first
evening some years before when he had knocked
gently at Judge Allen's door, and then, after
a tardy invitation, had slipped slowly in side-
ways, with his old beaver hat in his hand, and,
having taken in, in his comprehensive glance,
the whole room, including the Judge himself,
had said, apparently satisfied, that he had
heard they wanted a boy, and he wanted a place.
It was an auspicious moment for the old fellow;
the last "boy," a drunkard and a thief, had
just been discharged, and the judge had been
much worried that day trying to wait on him-
self. His thoughts had turned in the waning
                    3

 

            PASTIME STORIES
evening light to his home, from which the light
had faded for all time, and his heart was soft-
ened. The old lawyer had looked Ben over
too, and been satisfied. Something about him
had called up tender recollections of his little
office at the old Court-house before he became
a successful lawyer and a celebrated judge, and
when his best friend was the old drunken ne-
gro who waited on him, "cleaned up" () his
room, and was his principal 'lient and most
sympathetic friend and counsellor in his long
love-affair with his sweetheart, the old colo-
nel's brown-eved daughter. He had just been
dreaming of her, first as she wore his first
violets, and then as she lay for the last time,
with her head pillowed in his roses, and her
white, slender hands, whiter than ever, clasped
over his last violets on her quiet breast.
  He had recalled all the sweet difficulties in
winning her; his falling back into dissipation,
his picking himself up again, and again his
failure; and then the lonely evening when he
had sat in front of the dying fire, sad, despair-
ing, and had wondered if life were worth hold-
ing longer- then old William slipping in, hat
in hand. He recalled the old man's keen look
at him as he sat before the fire with the pis-
tol half hidden under the papers on his desk,
                      4

 

     HOW JINNY EASED HER MIND
and his sudden breaking of the silence with:
"Don't you give her up, Marse Johnny; don't
you nuver give her up. Ef she 's wuth havin',
she 's wuth fightin' for; an' ef she say No, she
jes beginnin' to mean Yes. Don't you give
her up." And he had nrot given her up, and
she had called him from the dead and had
made him. He would not have given the right
to put those violets in her calm hands for a
long life of unbroken happiness with any one
else. So, when the door opened quietly, and
Uncle Ben, in his clear, shirt, time-browned
coat, and patched breecbes, slipped in, it was
an auspicious moment for him.
  "Where did you come from" he asked him.
  " From old Charlotte, suh; used to 'longst
to de Bruces."
  "Can you clean up"
  He laughed a spontaneous, jolly laugh. "Kin
I clean up Dat 's what I come to do. Jinny
ken, too."
  "Can you read "
  "Well, nor, suh, not edzactly. I ain't no
free-issue nigger ner preacher." The shade
of disappointment on his face counterbalanced
tbis, however.
  "Do you get drunk"
  "Yes, sir, sometimes."-Cheerfully. "Not
                    5

 

            PASTIME STORIES
so often. I 'ain't got nuttin to git de whiskey.
But ef I 's drunk, Jinny cleans up."
  "Who is Jinny"
  "She 's my wife."
  'What sort of a woman is she"
  "She 's a black woman. Oh!-she 's a good
sort o' ooman-a toler'ble good sort o' ooman,
ef you know how to git 'long wid her. Sort o'
raspy sometimes, like urr wimmens, but I kin
manage her. You kin try us. Ef you don't
like us we ken go. We 'ain't got no root to
we foots."
  "You '11 do. I '11 try you," said the judge;
and from that time Uncle Ben became the cus-
todian of the offices. He was a treasure. As
he had truly said, he got drunk sometimes, but
when he did, Jinny took his place and cleaned
up. Her temper was, as he had said, certainly
"raspy."  Even flattery must have admitted
this, and Uncle Ben wore a bandage or plas-
ter on some part of his head a considerable
part of his time; but no one ever heard him
complain. "Jinny jes been kind o' easin' her
mine," he said, in answer to questions.
  At length it culminated: one night Jinny
went to work on him with a flat-iron to such
good purpose that first a policeman came in,
                     6

 

     HOW JINNY EASED HER MIND
and then a doctor had to be called to bring
him to, and Jinny was arrested.
  Next morning, when Jinny was sent on to
the grand jury for striking with intent to maim,
disfigure, disable, and kill, Ben was a trifle
triumphant. When the justice announced his
decision, he rose, and shaking his long finger
at her, exclaimed, "Aye, aye, what I tell you'"
  "Silence!" roared the big tipstaff, and Ben
sat down with a puzzled look on his face.
  When the police court closed he went up to
his wife, and said, in a commanding tone:
"Now come 'long home wid me an' 'have your-
self. I '11 teach you to sling flat-iron at folks'
head! "
  The officer announced, however, that Jinny
would have to go to jail-the case had passed
beyond his jurisdiction. She had been "sent
on to the grand jury."
  Ben's countenance fell. "Got to go to jail!"
he repeated, mechanically, in a dazed kind of
way. "Got to go to jail!" Then the prison-
ers were taken down to the jail. He followed
behind the line of stragglers that generally at-
tended that interesting procession, and he sat
on a stone outside the iron door nearly all day.
  That afternoon he spent in the judge's office.
                     '7

 

            PASTIME STORIES
The grand jury was in session, and next day
"a true bill" was found against Jinny Will-
iamson for an attempt to maim, disfigure, dis-
able, and kill-a felony. The same day her
case was called, the first on the docket.
  She had good counsel. She could have had
every lawyer in the building had she wanted
them, so efficiently had old Ben polled the bar.
But the case was a dead open-and-shut one.
Unhappily, the judge was ill with gout. The
Commonwealth called Ben, first man, and he
told simply the same story he had told at the
police court and to the grand jury. Jinny had
always had a vicious temper, and had often
exercised it towards him. That evening she
had gone rather far, and finally he had at-
tempted to remonstrate with her, had "tapped
her with his open hand," and she had pounded
his head with the flat-iron. The officer was
called, and corroborated the story. He had
heard the noise; had gone in and found Ben
unconscious, and the woman in a fury, swear-
ing to kill him. The surgeon pronounced the
wound one which came near being very seri-
ous; but for Ben's exceptionally hard head,
the skull would have been fractured; as it was,
only the outer plate of the frontal bone was
                     8

 

     HOW JINNY EASED HER MIND
broken. He had known several men killed by
blows much less vigorcus. No cross-examina-
tion affected the witnesses. Ben had evident-
ly told his story unwillingly. The jury was
solemn. Earnest if short speeches were made.
The judge gave a strong instruction upon the
evil of women being lawless and murderous,
and the jury retired. The counsel leaned over
and told Ben he thought they had lost the case,
and the jury would probably send his wife up
for at least a year. Ben said nothing. He only
looked once at Jinny sitting sullen and lower-
ing in the prisoner's box beside a thief. Then,
after a while, he got rp and went out, and a
minute later slipped in again at the door side-
ways, and making his way over to her, put an
orange-not a very large or fresh one-into
her lap. She did not look at him.
  The appearance of the jury filing in glum
and important sent him to his seat. The clerk
called the names and asked, "Gentlemen of the
jury, have you agreed on a verdict " The con-
sumptive-looking foreman bowed, and handed
in the indictment, amid a sudden silence, and
the clerk read, slowly, "We, the jury, find the
prisoner guilty," etc., "and sentence her to
confinement in the penitentiary for two years."
                     9

 

           PASTIME STORIES
Neither Jinny nor Ben stirred, nor did the
counsel. He was evidently considering. The
judge, in a voice slightly troubled, said he
would pronounce sentence at once, and asked
the prisoner if she had anything she wished to
say. She rocked a little and glanced shyly over
towards Ben with a sort of appealing look-
her first-; said nothing, looked down again,
and turned her orange over in her lap.
  "Stand up," said the judge; and she stood
up.
  Just then Ben stood up too, and making his
way over to her, said, " Jedge, ken I say a
wudy'
  "Why-ah-yes,l" said the judge, doubt-
fully. "It is very unusual, but go on." He sat
back in his arm-chair.
  "Well, gent'mens," began Ben, " I jes wants
to say" (he paused, and took in the entire
court-room in the sweep of his glance) -"I jes
wants to say dat I don't think you ought to
do Jinny dat a-way. Y' all 'aint' got nuttin It
all 'ginst Jinny. She 'aint' do nuttin to you all
-nuttin 't all. She 's my wife, an' what she
done she done to me. Ef I kin stan' it, y' all
ought to be able to, dat 's sho'. Now hit 's dis
a-way. Y' all is married gent'mens, an' yo'
knows jest how 't is. Yo' knows sometimes a
                    10

 
     HOW JINNY EASED HER MIND
ooznan gits de debil in her. 'Taint her fault;
't is de debil's. Hit jes like wolf in cows.
Sometimes dee gits in de skin an' mecks 'em
kick up an' run an' mean. Dat 's de way 't is
wid wimmens. I done know Jinny ever sence
she wuz a little gal at home in de country. I
done know how mean she is. I done know all
dat, an' I done marry her, 'cuz she suit me. I
had plenty o' urr gals I could 'a' marry, but I
ain't want dem. I want Jinny, an' I pester
her tell she had me. Well, she meaner eben
'n I think she is; but dat ain' nuttin: I satis-
fied wid her, an' dat 's 'nough. Y' all don'
know how mean she is. She mean as a narrer-
faced mule. She kick an' she fight an' she quoil
tell sometimes I hardly ken stay in muh house;
but dat ain' nuttin. I stay dyah, an' when she
git thoo I right dyah jes same as befo', an'
I know den I gwine have a good supper, an' I
ain' got to pester my mine 'bout nuttin. Y' all
done been all 'long dyah, 'cuz y' all is married
gent 'mens. Well, dat 's de way 'twuz turr
night. Jinny been good so long, I feared she
got some'n de matter wid her, an' I kind o' git
oneasy, an' sort o' poke her up. But she ain't;
she all right. I so glad to find her dat way, I
sort o' uppish, an' when she hit me I slapped
her. I didn' mean to hu't her; I jest hit her a
                    11

 

           PASTIME STORIES
little tap side her head, so, an' she went all to
pieces in a minute. I done hurt her feelin's.
Y' all knows how 'tis yo'self. \Wimmen's got
mighty cu 'ious feelin 's, ain' like children's nor
men's. Ef you slap 'em, dey goes dat a-way.
Dey gits aggervated, an' den dey got to ease
dee mine. Well, Jinny she got mighty big mine,
an' when she dat a-way it tecks right smart
to ease it-to smoove it. Fust she done try
broom, den cheer, den shovel, den skillet; but
ain' none o' dem able to ease her, an' den she
got to try de flat-iron. She got to do it. Y' all
knows how 'tis. Ef wimmen's got to do any-
thing dey got to do it, an' dat 's all. Flat-
iron don' hu't none. I 'ain' eben feel it. Hit
jes knock me out muh head little while, an' I
jes good as I wuz befo'. When I come to I
fine dee done 'rest Jinny. Dat 's what hu't me.
Jinny done been easin' her mine all dese years,
an' we 'ain' nuver had no trouble befo'. An'
now y' all say she got to go to de pen'tentia'y.
How 'd y' all like somebody to sen' you' wife
to pen'tentia'y when she jes easin' her mine
I ax you dat. How she gwine ease her mine
dyah I ax you dat. I know y' all gwine sen'
her dyah, gent'mens, 'cuz you done say you is.
I know you is, an' I 'ain' got nuttin to say
                    12

 

    HOW JINNY EASED HER MIND
'bout it, not a wud; but all I ax you is to le'
me go dyah too. I don' want stay here b'dout
Jinny, an' y' all ain' gwine to know how to man-
age her b'dout me. I is de on'iest one kin do
dat. Jinny got six chillern-little chillern-
dis las' crap; she didn' hab none some sevrul
years, an' den she had six. I gwine bring 'em
all right up beah to y' all to teck keer on, 'cuz
I gwine wid her-ef you le' me. I kyarn stan'
it dyah by myself. I leetle mo' went 'stracted
last night. Y' all kin have 'em, 'cuz y' all ken
teck keer on 'em, an' I kyan't. I would jes
like you to let her go home for a leetle while
'fo' yo' sen' her up, I jes would like dat. She
got a right new baby dyah squealin' for her
dis minute, an' I mighty feared hit gwine to
die widout her' an' dat '11 be right hard 'pon
Jinny. She 'ain' never los' but byah one, an'
I had right smart trouble wid her 'bout dat.
She sort o' out her head arter dat some sevrul
months, till she got straight agin. I git 'long
toler'ble well wid de urr chillerns, but I ain' able
to nuss dat new one, an' she squeal all night.
I got a ooman to come dyah an' look arter it,
but she say she want Jinny, an' I think Jinny
want her-I think she do. Jes let her go dyah
a leetle while. Dat 's all I want to ax you."
                    13

 
            PASTIME STORIES
  He sat down.
  A glance at Jinny proved his assertion. Her
eyes were shut fast, and with her arms tightly
folded across her ample bosom, she was rock-
ing gently from side to side. Two tears had
pushed out from under her eyes, and stood
gleaming on her black cheeks.
  The counsel glanced up at the judge, whose
face wore a look of deep perplexity, and then
at the jury. "I would like to poll the jury,"
he said.
  The clerk read the verdict over, and called
the first name. "Is that your verdict"
  The juror arose. "Well, judge, I thought
it was; but" (he looked down at his fellows)
"I think if I could I wouald like to talk to one
or two of the other jurors a minute, if it is not
too late. My wife's got a right new baby at
home herself that squealed a little last night,
and I 'd like to go back to the room and think
about it."
  "Sheriff, take the .ury back to their room,"
said the judge, firmly.
  In a few minutes they returned, and the
verdict was read:
  "We, the jury, all married men, find the
prisoner guilty of only easing her mind."
                     14

 








BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE


IT was St. Valentine's day, and, owing to an
   engagement to go duck-shooting, Billington
had taken a holiday. The storm had, however,
broken up the shooting, and Billington was now
seated in the sitting-room of his apartments,
alone except for his own thoughts. The rain
outside spattering in fitful showers against the
windows, and the fact that all his bets had gone
wrong for several days past, had inclined him
to be serious, and two valentines he had just
received completed the work.
  For an hour he had been engaged in that
dismal occupation of looking himself squarely
in the face.
  Both presents were cigar-cases, and the mes-
sages on the two cards were identical-simply
these words: "From St. 'Valentine." One of
the cases was solid silver, exquisitely chased,
and engraved with Billington's crest and coat
of arms; the other was simp [y two bits of flexible
                    15

 

            PASTIME STORIES
card-board covered and bound together with
a piece of old brocade, on which was embroidered
a sprig of apple blossoms.
  "I wish I had the courage," said Billington,
for the twentieth time. He half turned and
looked at the two cases, and presently stretched
out his arm lazily to take up one of them. At
first, his hand hovered over the embroidered
one, but the beautiful chasing on the other
struck him, and he leaned over and took up
that. "Very handsome," he said to himself,
inspecting it. "That girl has a great deal of
taste. So that was the reason she wanted to
see my coat of arms. " He reached over and
put the case down carefully, and after a sec-
ond's reflection picked up the other. "That 's
a really lovely thing," he said; '"those apple
blossoms are perfect. She made that herself,
and-by Jove, that 's a piece of the old dress
she wore that night at the Valentine ball ten
years ago!" He leaned his head back and shut
his eyes. "Lord! Lord! How sweet she was
that night!" he said, with his eves still shut.
"She seventeen, and I twenty-five. I remem-
ber I told her she had the spirit of her great-
grandmother in her, and she said, No, she had
only her dress on her. I remember I did not
                     16

 

       BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE
have the money to buy her flowers, and I went
and found her a bunch of apple blossoms that
had come out in the warm spell. I told her it
was a miracle performed for her; and they
were the only flowers she wore. I did not ask
her to marry me, because I did not feel that I
had a right to do it till I could support her;
and then I came off to New York to-get able."
Here he stopped, and his countenance changed.
  "Well, I got her the place at the Institute,"
he said, in a defensive tone. Once more he
leaned his head back. "Let me see; what was
the old rhyme I repeated to her that night

       'Roses are red, violets are blue,
       Pinks are sweet, and so are you.'

And that other

         'Tumdy, tumdy, tu.mdy tine.'

AhM! this is it:

     'As sure as the bloom grows on the vine,
     I '11 choose you for my Valentine.' "

  He lapsed into silence, and after a second
got up slowly, and walked about the room with
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            PASTIME STORIES
his hands deep in his pockets. Catching sight
of himself in a mirror, he stopped and gazed
at himself earnestly. "What a cursed ugly
thing a man is!" he said, turning away. He
flung himself into his chair again, and retired
within himself once more. Suddenly he sat up.
"By Jove, I '11 do it!" he said. "In five years
I won't he fit for any woman to have."
  He reached over and took a sheet of paper
and a pen; dipped his pen in his silver ink-
stand, and with a look of determination on his
face squared himself to write. " St. Valentine's
day," he began, and paused. A look of perplex-
ity came on his face, which deepened into one
of worry. He laid the pen down. "Which
one" he said to himself, half audibly. He
looked into the fire. "Oh, hang it! I '11 write
a valentine," he said; and dipping the pen into
the ink again, he began to write briskly:


       "My patron saint, St. Valentine,
       Why dost thou leave me to repine,
       Still supplicating at her shrine

       "But bid her eyes to me incline,
       I '11 ask no other sun to shine,
       More rich than is Golconda's mine.
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BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE



        "Range all that woman, song, or wine
        Can give; wealth, Dower, and fame combine;
        For her I 'd gladly all resign.

        'Take all the pearls are in the brine,
        Sift heaven for stars, earth's flowers entwine,
        But be her heart my Valentine. "

  Here he stopped and read it over. "That 's
pretty good for an off-hand effort," he said to
himself. He read it over again. " 'More rich
than is Golconda's mine,' " he repeated. "I
wonder if that could be considered personal
' For her I 'd gladly all resign,' "he read. " By
Jove, this would do for either. "  He leaned
back, and the same expression his face had worn
a little while before came back on it. Sudden-
ly, with a growl, he sat up and began again;
but his pen would no longer go. Only the old
rhyme rang in his head:

        "Roses are red, violets are blue,
        Pinks are sweet, and so are you."

  He picked up the embroidered case and
looked at it. As he did so he seemed to catch
a faint odor of apple blossoms, and he actually
lifted the case to his face to see if it were only
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            PASTIME STORIES
fancy. Ah, if he had only had then a fourth
of what he had now, how different it might
have been! Now he made ten thousand a year,
but wanted fifty thousand. He put the case
down and picked up the silver one. Fifty
thousand! Horses, equipages, books, paint-
ings, travel, honors-everything almost-ex-
cept the perfume of those apple blossoms. He
laid the case down and took up his pen. He
had in mind such rhymes as 'line," "thine;"
''resign,'" "'entwine;'" but the old verse,

      "As sure as the bloom grows on the vine
      I '11 choose you for my Valentine,"

drove out all others. Once more there came
that subtile perfume of the apple blossoms.
There seemed to be a sudden lighting up. Ile
gazed out of the window, and became aware
that the rain had stopped and the sun was
shining.
  "Oh, hang it!" he Slaid, "'I '11 go to walk."
He folded up his valentine, and, putting it
into an envelope, he placed it in his pocket un-
addressed. He went out, and strolled up the
Avenue, looking at the pretty girls whom the
sunshine had brought out like so many flowers.
                     20

 

       BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE
 Presently, he stepped into a florist's and bought
 a large bunch of glorious roses, great rich,
 crimson buds with long stems, each fit for a
 princess to wear. He paid for them, and gave
 the address to which he wished them sent. The
 price, he thought, half grimly, was more than
 his month's board used to cost. This almost
 interfered with the other thought that twenty-
 five dollars was a smalI matter with him now.
 He took out the valentine, and picked up a pen
 to address it; but put it back into his pocket
 again unaddressed, and continued his stroll,
 bowing to men, and bowing and smiling to girls
 lie met. TIe went on into the Park. There was
 a faint hint of green in some favored spots, and,
 to his surprise, as he passed on, he came on a
 little bush in blossom-an apple bush. It grew
 in a sunny nook sheltered from the north, and
 by one of those freaks of nature, in the warm
 humid days that had come it had been dream-
 ing of the spring, and one bough had blown
 into full bloom. Billington stopped with a sud-
 den thrill of pleased strprise, and, climbing
 down the bank, he broke off the apple bough
-his pleasure rather heightened by the reflec-
tion that a policeman might arrest him: it re-
minded him of his boyhood.
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           PASTIME STORIES
  As he strolled back down the Avenue the
sidewalks were gay with walkers, and showy
equipages with line horses and pompous coach-
men rolled by with all the livery of wealth.
Billington was just admiring a handsome pair
of strange sorrels to a new brougham, when
he became aware that the coachman was draw-
ing up to him. He looked at the carriage, and
in it sat one of the subjects of his thoughts
that morning. She had never looked hand-
somer, and when she gave him her daintily
gloved hand with a cordial pressure, Billington
had never liked her better.
  "I never saw such an abstracted air," she
laughed. "I really thought you were not go-
ing to speak to me."
  "I was thinking of you at the time-I be-
lieve," said Billington, wondering if only a part
of the truth were not a lie. He condoned with
his conscience by adding a whole truth. "I
was just wondering whose turnout this was,
and thinking it the handsomest on the Avenue. "
  "Is n't it lovely!" she said. "Papa gave it
to me as a valentine. Are n't those sorrels
darlings "  Billington could truthfully say
that they were. He was reminded of the card-
case, and he thanked her very warmly, and
                    22

 
       BILLINGTON'S VALENTINE
was pleased to see the color deepen in her face.
She did not often color.
  "You will find a valentine for you at home
when you get back, I suspect, " he said.
  "'What is it" she asked, eagerly.
  "The only thing in town worthy of your ac-
ceptance after those horses," said Billington.
  "I don't know about taat," she said, with
more coyness in her maimer than she often
showed. Billington wished he had sent the
verses along with the roses.
  "Don't you want to take a little drive in the
Park" she asked, moving her seal-skin robe
a little. Billington was just going to say that
nothing would give him more pleasure, when,
glancing up, he saw one whom he had not seen
for quite a little while, but who had been in his
thoughts oftener than once that morning. She
was not strolling at the holiday pace of the
richly dressed throng of pleasure-seekers, but
was tripping along at a most business-like gait,
threading her way in and out among the saunt-
erers. As she passed Billington she glanced up
and saw him, and a smile of recognition lit up
her face.
  " Good-morning, " she smiled, and tripped on.
  "What a very pretty woman!" said the girl
                     23

 

            PASTIME STORIES
in the carriage. "And such a pretty frock and
hat too! Who is she"
  'She is a young artist," said Billington, still
following with his eye the neat, trim figure
working its way along through the throng on
the sidewalk. "I have known her a long time."
" For her I 'd gladly all resign, " sprang a verse
into his mind.
  "Can she paint" asked the girl.
  "Ah-really, I don't believe T know," s