2 SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND, FEBRUARY 14, 1909. SHO HAVE BEEN G 1 T Is i . 1 S,-J-! -if 'J ? i 1 V 'VVjt i 1 NOT ST. VALEN j TIME 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 sentimental attrurlmient. 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 his will. How much more appropriate, then, that the day of youthful sentiment should have been named 'for him than for St. Valentine. An accident, the chance selection or a d.ite. Is said to be responsible for the solecism. 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 old. Then Cupid was never shown as any thing but the archer, shooting at his prey, "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 timental swains. . 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 foreground. Another picture gives an - Idea of the method by which these hearts have been gathered. 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 supple branch. 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 described. 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 marksmen. 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 miss. 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. A VALENTINE 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- mnklnff. "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- lrt" 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 to me. "So great a surprise. Indeed, that you can guess tho girl's name without a conscious effort!" John exclaimed, banteringly. "Oh. Patty!" and he LOUISE- LEXINGTON. 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 conspire . 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 thee. dr! 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, anxious, tremulous: "Mpmma, I think you had better come up. Her door is locked, but I lfstcned. and she's crying as if her heart would break!" 1 4