A Daughter of Delilah — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

A DAUGHTER OF DELILAH, BOOK ONE. THE SIREN DANSEUSE. CHAPTER I. A FALSE TELEGRAM. It was a clear, crisp, February night. There was no moon, but the sky was filled with stars, amber, pale-blue and deep-gold; beautiful stars that flashed a mellow radiance over all the purple dome. The air was keen and cold, and the earth as hard as a rock under the magical touch of its biting breath. Within an arrow-shot of Bridgley depot, and in the shadow of the echoing woods, a young man was singing a bacchanalian song, his full baritone voice rising and falling in graceful undulations of perfect melody. ‘‘Wreathe the bowl with flowers of soul, The brightest Wit can find us; We'll take a flight toward heaven to-night, And leave dull earth behind us! Should Love amid the wreaths be hid, That Joy, the enchanter, brings us, No danger fear while wine is near, We'll drown him if he stings us; Eomicboo CS (eo) m