Life — March 30, 1893 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ER morning! Easter morning ! And the Avenue for miles Bright with pretty hats adorning Pretty girls with pretty smiles. All the avenues and streets are Gardens on this festal day, And the pretty girls one meets are Buds and blossoms, pink and gay. Forty days each one has rested,— Forty sermons, swallowed down,— Forty dollars, then invested Inthe latest style of crown! Felix Carmen. SIC TRANSIT GLORIA. HE DE BLAIR ball is mid-way over. Bright eyes outshine diamonds in webby laces. Soft gleaming silks mirror rose-colored lamps. Lights twinkle, maids whisper, youths become amorous. Half- gay, half-sad strains melt on the ear. A blue-eyed girl, dreamy, slim and tremulous-lipped is floating in the arms of young Arlington, He whispers to her now and again, and she answers with a smile or a glance. Waltz after waltz wooes them into the circling maze. The siren-music steals away the hours and the poetry of motion charms them into forgetfulness and wakens their feelings into a tenderness that is not yet love. In the dreamy pauses between, he is ever by her side. They linger in alcoves and where the tall ferns make screens of themselves. The incense of flowers intoxicates, and in the intervats of silence love weaves an airy fabric. Oh, the crimson that comes and goes! Oh, the eyes that say to other eyes “Come woo me!" Oh, the tender com- mands and sweet yieldings! Oh, the words that tremble on the lips! Their world is the ball-room ; for her, there is but one person in it and he has forsworn—the other woman. There is no past and no future. ‘The ball has too soon passed into the mists of a ball that has been. ‘The night is shivering in its death sleep. She stands in fleecy white wraps awaiting her carriage, and from the stone step beneath the portico he looks up at her, a tender light in his eyes. The blue eyes answer the silent question, and he bends over her hand. “Good night," he says, softly; and with a half-sigh she echoes : “Good night.” A COCKTAIL. Boneste (of the Fifth Avenue Stage Line): THE STRAW YOUR COLLAR IS STUFFED WITH. Don'r MOVE, PLEASE. IT KIND O° BRACES ME UP. * . . . A fortnight later he sees her again. She is seated near him at a theatre party. He gazes upon her as she watches the stage. What expression in her face ! What love-light in her eyes! ‘She is thinking of me," he says, exultingly, to himself.‘ Now, she is remembering that waltz, how the music died away and I still held her in my arms. Now, the time she lifted her eyes, and I saw into her very soul. Her sweet face shows all her thoughts. She cannot look at me, She must know that I, too, remember.” Bend- ing toward her, he whispers : “T can never thank the De Blair's enough for that ball!" A faint surprise is in her eyes as she tums her head. “Oh, were you there?" she asks, languidly. ‘* Dreadful crush, wasn't it Madge Robertson. HE horseman lost, And said, Ah me ! I broke the colt That now breaks me." (;IRST BOY: My pais making ; his mark in the world. SECOND Boy: That's nothing my pa can write. I'M ONLY SMELLING comicbooks.com