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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View This Issue
SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND, FEBRUARY 14, 1909.
Is i .
-if 'J ? i 1
WRONG AND INAPPRO
PRIATE NAME BECAME
ATTACHED TO FEBRJUARX
AND CAN NOT BE
- A"?& -
-c -.TTT, Tnirc'jQ 'A JRVfET FOE.
iXi.V.ltH V V Ji V vrr
IF right pro-rolled In nomenclature. th
day of sentiment that falls thta year
on Sunday would be known M
! Cupld'a day Instead of St. Valentine1
1 day. for he Jolly little od of love has
' lot more to do Trtth its algnlfloanoe
, than the axa-re old saint of legend and
i church history-
Xot many of the youn folka ffho on
this occasion will try by divers means
to lift the veil of the future and try to
determine who their future husbands and
-wives will he. know much of St. Valen
' tine, but all of them are well supplied
with In format km on the subject of that
tormenting sprite, Cupid, whose venomed
darts lead the way to the altar.
Cupid has all the best of the contro
versy. In fact, for he was never any
thinj; luit the nod of love. Ills history
traced back to remotest antiquity proves
it. In fart, he (roes so far back that
none have been able to definitely assign
hm parents. '
Arcardlnc to the Greeks, Eros. God of
Ixive. the Cupid of the modern world
was ono of the first of oelncs and leaped
Into existence without parents, this wise
provision probably being arranged so that
the first couple In the world mlsht not
lack the attentions of the mischievous
Utile archer who Is the forerunner of
But not all historians took this view.
Some said that he was the offspring of
Venus nrt Mars. Others still more
irrandlnse In their theories named him as
the child or iieaven mio uuui.
But at no point In the misty records of
antiquity can a time be found when Eros
was not worshiped. Tablets handed down
from Theepiae In Boeotia show the Thes
pians celebrating games In his honor on
Mount Helicon. Always he was pic
tured as today, a rosy, plump-cheeked
boy. winjred and armed with a bow and
arrows, with which to transfix the affec
tions of those who were loath to bow to
How much more appropriate, then, that
the day of youthful sentiment should
have been named 'for him than for St.
An accident, the chance selection or a
d.ite. Is said to be responsible for the
Ijowrer ago than anybody has been able
to trace some party of young folks in
Knglaml. Scotland, or In some part of the
Continent, particularly Lorraine or Maine
In France, a party of young folks, maids
and baclK-lors. It might have happened In
anv of the places, for the custom can
early lie traced to all of them, grew Im
patient to know what fate had 1n store
for thorn In the way of spouses.
So they assembled, and Inscribed on
MHets the names of an equal number of
maids and bachelors of their acquaint
ance, threw the whole in a receptacle of
some sort, and lottery-wise, drew them,
care being observed of course, that each
person drew the name of a member of
the opposite sex.
The first of these events took place on
the eve of St. Valentine's day, and hence
the maid or bachelor thus drawn In love's
CXEIDJ.I'EE.FECTir5Gr HI5 AIM POEiHTS-
lottery became the valentine of the re
cipient. Tho connection of St. Valentin with
the custom had been of course purely
accidental, for there is nothing in the
legends of the different saints of that
name recorded In the Acta Sanctorum to
show any of the practices now connect
ed with February 14. .
But the date stood in history, has con
tinued to stand, and la not likely to pass
away while men and women still love.
and while children and those In the Inter
mediate stages between tho two groat
divisions of life still find their thoughts
romantically turning to speculation on
their future love stories.
But Cupid is an up-to-date divinity.
ilnns not stand still. As a matter of
fact, he moves all along with the times,
and is now pictured In more enterprising
guise than he was wont to be In days of
Then Cupid was never shown as any
thing but the archer, shooting at his
"Whether his shot hit the mark was
something one could never tell from the
picture. Much was left in doubt.
The artists of today have remedied this
. nMt- thA fnllv little god
unueriuuiij, niiu ..... j
Is shown as a veritable harvester of
hearts in the valentines mat ims -i
will be sent to gladden the hearts of sen
. One that Is a bis hit represents two fig
ures of Cupid. Perhaps the rush of busi
ness has compelled him to drill in a staff
of assistants, packing Into a fanciful cas
ket a score of hearts, each of which has
lately fallen victim to the darts of this
master marksman. This is a most dainty
and artistic conceit, the box being placed
an open field, rlcn in spring grass.
with a boder of pansies and forget-me-nots,
suggesting their fragrance, in the
Another picture gives an - Idea of the
method by which these hearts have been
In the midst of s field of blue and yel
low flowers, with rolling hills in the dis
tance, stands a l'ittle tree, with thin and
rnfler It are Cupid ana anotner assist
ant, this one a grll s figure with butter
fly wings. , ' '
"While Cupid vigorously shakes the tree
she holds a violet-colored apron to catch
the harvest as It falls, and so rapidly do
hearts fall at the command of the pant
master of sentiment that not all can bo
held In the little apron and one of them
has tumbled to the groiuid. doubtless to
be' recovered later.
But not all the vocations of Cupid as
pictured by the Twentieth Century artist
THH'&OD OF LOVE
are so purely pastoral as those already
In fact, according to some of the pic
tures Cupid hag developed Into quite, a
sport who believes In getting as much fun
as possible out of his never-ending hunt
for human heart.
Cupid Is a fisherman, and his bait anc
his game are both tho same thing-hearts.
Standing on tho edge of a Uttla point of
land that Juts out Into a stream, prob
ably in the svmbollsm of this drawing,
the river of life, ho deftly casts his line
so that the enticing heart on the end or it
will conceal the hook and he the lure that
will bring to it some of tho other hearts
that are floating down the stream, ine
even faithful assistant is in attendance,
and is forcing into an already well filled
hamper the latest catch.
Another sporting method for gaining
hearts Is to bowl for them, and tho hearts
placed on their points on a little square
are a fair target for the notable little
But In the midst of all this new method
of going after the sentiments of human,
kind Cupid has not lo.st his skill at the
first of all his systems, that which has
come down to tho rresent generation from
the storied past.
The bow and arrow have not been en
tirely abandoned in adapting himself to
more modern methods, nor has the aim
lost anything In its deadly accuracy.
The conception lias been modernized a
little, but the ancient iilca Is still maln-
Thff'heart that Is the target is fastened
to a tree. Seated in the grass, hi 3 arm
drawn full back as he prepares to looee
the bow. is Cupid, arrow to his shoulder,
all in readiness. Beside him fits his com
panion, a quiver of arrows available. In
case by any clianco the first shot should
That Cupid keeps up to date ought
bring Joy to the world, for of all calam
ities the worst would be to have the mus
ter of at. Valentine's Day losing his craft.
fYl I . A ROPATIO
I WAS all alone In the library one
evening- making soma valentines for
Dorothy. I am very popular among;
my younger brothers and sisters on
those days directly preceding the feast
of good St. Valentine, because of my
tiny talent for drawing- and verse-
"Do not let any one come in and dls- !
' turb me." I warned Dorothy, who was
deeply engrossed in a fairy tale. 6he
nodded. "All right." she said and added
the parting; admonition, "Please don't
" forset Amy and Cissy Barnett; and. oh.
Patty, make an ever so nice one for
Dlokums. I promised to send him one
if he'd send one to me." And Dorothy
quite content to i let me shoulder the
entire responsibility of her affairs of
heart, drowsed peacefully on.
Soon I was deep In my task. In
toxicated with the Joy of creation. I
drove my pen furiously and had about
completed half the number of valen
tines demanded of my genius when the
door opened and Dorothy entered, fol
lowed by John Wetherall.
I looked at my little sister reproach
fully, bltlngr my Hp and frowning as
a further Indication of my displeasure,
but she only turned to her companion
with an ingenuous smile.
"Now, you see how It la." she ex
claimed. "It's Just as I said. She's
mad at me lor letting you in."
"If you're really angry, Patty, I'll
50 away, but please don't blame Dor
othy." John coaxed. "1 pushed right
past her at the door, I was quite de
termined." "Hospitality has some claims here,
Mr. Weatherall," I answered him in a
mock-serious manner and swept him a
courtesy. "So now that you are In wo
must needs make the best of it until
such sood time as you see fit to de-
John drew a long face and seemed
much dejected. "Patricia, have pity!"
he implored. "Be truly glad to see a
fellow who's In trouble and wants your
help, cant your
mt once at the real note
e0f worry In his voice, begging him to
sit down and tell me all about It.
There's only a little more work to do;
!t can wait." I told him.
.-v.- t the littered table
-And I caraa clear over here to add
to your burden to ask you to help
me write a valentine." he "explained,
sighing contritely. "Honestly, Patty,
I sat up until 1 o'clock last night try
ing to make it rhyme myself, but I find
I am quite Incapable of it All I have
written is the veriest prose. Do you
suppose you could make a little poem
out of it for me, Patty 7"
t, i-ertalnlv an unusual request
to make of a girl to whom he had been
sending bad verses annually; dui
partly because It was so hard to resist
John's earnest, wheedling tones and
partly because my pride would not let
me refuse, I answered calmly enougn.
"Oh. I should think I mlgnt ao tnai
much for you. John." adding carelessly,
"If in return I might know to whom
I am Inditing It."
He leaned his handsome head bacK
against the cushions and gazed dream
lngly Into the fire before him. What a
boy he was to pose.
"To one whose winsome face haunts
me night and day," he began in bom
bastic tenderness; "whose hair Is like
fancied seaweed." (at that I Instantly
thought of Ethel Rose she has the un
tldest hair of any girl I know), "one
wlmse eves are like dancing twin-
stars (then it was Ethel after all
the things that girl can do with ner
eyes!) and whose voice Is like the liq
uid laugh of limpid springs "
I sprang to my feet "Sir!" I ex
claimed, mockingly, "I understand that
you come in search of a poetl I think
Ethel Rose would be less than thank
less were she not content with your
own flowery figures'."
"How In the world did you guess the
girl, Patty?" John exclaimed.
But I was ashamsd of the clew the
"tangled seaweed" gave me and so an
swered evasively. "Oh, I have eyes;
I can see things," and I managed an
amused. Impersonal laugh.
But John, in his most persistent
lawyer-like manner, cornered me mer
cilessly: "What things, for Instancer
he demanded, and then I had to con
f, I had noticed nothing at all. that
the matter was really a gTeat surprise
"So great a surprise. Indeed, that
you can guess tho girl's name without
a conscious effort!" John exclaimed,
banteringly. "Oh. Patty!" and he
laughed at me provoklngly. To
hide the sudden queer feeling that
assailed me. I began reading over tho
little composition John had spread
upon the table. It was real poetry
without rhyme or rhythm, to ho sure,
but none the less poetry. I had not
thought John capable of so graceful
a sentiment How deep must be the
feeling he entertained for Ethel Rose
to Inspire in him so noble an effusion!
Ethel came far from satisfying my
Idea of a true mate for John, however.
She was pretty, indeed, but wholly a
butterfly, and entirely too vain, I
.,,, rht And If her beauty faded, as
beauty does sometimes oh, I prayed
this cruel fate might never Derail snm
low little Ethel Rose!
I have known John since our nrsi
schooldays together and they seem but
yesterday. H is the only big brother
I have ever had. He has fought all my
ntiiMiiti httles for me. It was hard to
think I should fight them alone after
wards. But I must not tninK or ine
afterwards not yet I turned to John.
"It Is beautiful." I assurea mm.
would make a splendid sonnet."
John was marching up and down the
room, awaiting my verdict He wheeled
now and exclaimed:
"A sonnetl Oh, that is too much to ask,
rm afraid. A sonnet is. very hard, is
It not?" And then he added, with all
the selfish Impatience of a lover: "Do
you think you could manage it tonight,
Patty now? I need It so early in the
morning, you see. Could you really
make it Into a sonnet now?
"It requires but a simple turn of the
pen" I responded with an airy sarcasm
which w-as entirely lost upon John. "1 ou
have dropped into Iambic pantametet
here and there yourself, ao that by just
tacking on a few rhymes and making
a few unimportant transpositions abra
cad abra! There you are!"
John exclaimed warmly: You are a
genius. Patty. Whatever should 1 do
without you?" And he stood watching
me interestedly, quite as if he expected
to see It pop out from under my pen all
finished, cut and dried, while he waited.
I was beginning to wonder how I should
send him away, when Dorothy put her
pretty head within the door. "Are they all
done. Patty?" she asked.
I glanced ruefully at my last effort In
her behalf a stanza addressed to one
Richard Brown, otherwise "Dlckums":
Oh Dlckums. dear. It seems so queer
To send to you a valentine:
But when you see this one from me.
Please. Dlckums. do remember mum
"You see, Dorothy," I explained, mean
ingly, "I have been interrupted. If you
will take Mr. John out there. I do be
lieve he and you can make up the other
four yourselves. I have a most impor
tant one to do for Mr. John now at
once!" , .
And those two children set to work to-
gether In the next room, leaving mc alone
with space for thought. Dorothy's de
lighted giggles soon apprised me of their
happy progress. Nevertheless I was
sorry after all I had sent John away.
I seemed to bo somebody else that
night, somebody Intent 011 doing a last
i .,.. John bravely and well;
Lsomewhat as one might If occasion de
manded, help to miry nis owu uiu.
Finally the little sonnet was com
pleted to my satisfaction, and I carried
it to uihn to read.
Ha declared it a masterpiece. H
held both my hands ever so long and
said: "Patty, dear, it is beautiful," and
I was glad. .... -
"Oh, I hope she will like It!" I said
then. "John, I do hope Ethel Rofle will
like It for your sake.
"Thank you, litle Patty!" ne answeroa.
"And now I will go. You look so tired. '
t... .ithnii.h 1 wan ever so tired. I
could not sleep that night; and It hardly
seemed worth wmio to preieim biuojj m
alone there in tho dark. At last, how
ever, after what seemed endless centu
ries, it wa-J morning St. Valentine's day.
I arose at once, with a determination
to crowd ail the tasks I had ever left
unfinished Into that one luckless day. I
would be furiously busy. I would work,
work, work and forget!
I discovered several valentines upon
my breakfast plate one from dear little
Dorothy. Curious as to the contents of
a beautiful box, I undid the purple rib
bon which bound It and found therein a
drift of perfect double violets. I burled
my face In their cool perfumed depths
and in so doing discovered among thorn
a message from John. This was perhaps
the way he was taking to thank me for
my sen-ice last evening. I drew it from
its envelope and gave a startled cry of
surprise as I recognized his sonnet our
sonnet in John's handwriting. I looked
at tho address again snd ag;iin. but it
was quite plain Miss Patricia Wells. At
father's laughing, "it's yours all right,
Patty" I plckid up the lwc and fled to
my room, that I might read and re-read
those magic fourteen lines I already
knew by heart:
If power were mini one moment to commmid
The sweetest voiccn of tbe heavenly fbi-.
And that unit Instant lalrl's should
To tlaon Tltanla's wand within my hunt.
With which all music of that, music-land
.-ould then bo willed to echo my desire;
It nalur.: also I might e'en Inspire
To chBiit in hurmony with my demand
Oh. then, what mclod;- should rea.-h thin
MlllionV of voices swaying to one mind;
Millions of voices ithou. ahn". to heart
Vlbratins tender. nmi More soulful Vind
The choicest murlo by in'l's love dlvin'd
Would sing mv heart's one sons: I lo
Things terrestrial concerned me no
longer. I could hear tho music of tha
spheres. , But above the mighty turbu
lence of worlds that whirled round me
In charmed circles, I heard as in the
dim distance Dorothy's voice, small,
"Mpmma, I think you had better come
up. Her door is locked, but I lfstcned.
and she's crying as if her heart would