1897-]
Ah, faded buds, that once were bright,
What memories of pure delight
Come stealing over me in bliss,
As once again thy lips I kiss,
As oft I kissed them on that night.
On wings of love my thoughts take flight,
I see thee in the fading light,
As thou did'st rest
Upon her breast,
O, faded buds,
She held thee out with timid grasp,
And over thee our hands did clasp;
She pressed my hand with finger tips.
Her hand I pressed unto my lips,
Our love was told;
And now I hold
These faded buds.
“MY FIANCES, MISS CROFT”
IT was a Friday night. The “Star Chamber,’’ which was a
name that had long been associated with Ted Halliday’s
room, on account, perhaps, of the number of bright lights
who were wont to congregate there, was filled. The council, to
a man, was present. No, there was one absentee —Rab Connor,
the most lively member of the set.
“ Well,” drawled Halliday from the divan where he lay, idly
blowing smoke rings into the air, “we can’t begin until Rab
comes. Ostermann, go find him. I’ll wager a match to a tooth
pick he’s in the library.”
As lord of the mansion, Halliday’s word was law, so Oster
mann started to obey. But just as he reached the door, it was
suddenly thrown open from the outside and the missing Connor
rushed in, precipitating the corpulent Sid into the corner, to that
worthy’s extreme amazement.
“ Well,” he blurted out, “ can’t you look where you’re going?
I’ve half a mind to —”
“Shut up, Fatsl” yelled Hagley, somewhat uncivilly.
“ Don’t you see Rab has a new joke to spring on us? ”
In By-Gone Days.
IN BY-GONE DAYS
—F. T. C., 'oo.
jit