Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

Page 33 text:

The Last Hour of the Year. Onl v the bright fire lighted the old library, and I was there alone. The hours of the Old Year were fast becoiuiiig minutes, and the New Year w-ith all its joys and sorrows fast ap- proaching. From the depth of an easy chair I watched the fantastic pictures formed by the glowing coals, while thoughts as fantastic crowded my mind. Suddenly I heard a sweet girlish voice say, I certainly thank thee ' eiy much. I could never have gotten from that shelf by myself, and looking around I saw Janice Meridith and the Celebrity. The pleasure is mine, Miss Meridith, to I)e chosen as your knight before my rivals, was his suave reply. Janice blushed with delight at his words, and, then, with much eagerness she asked, Prythee, tell me who the other gentlemen are who came so kindly to my aid. I do be- come .so tired of Jack and the others that in this one hour of the year I want to know as many new people as I can. I can certainly sympathize with you. said her companion lieaving a deep sigh, and especially is my lot hard for I am misunder- stood by every one. This hour with you will recompense me fo. ' much, however — with a low bow, Indeed, he is a fine gentleman, Janice thought to herself much flattered at his atten- tions, even if his clothes are very queer. My rivals. the Celebrity resumed after a pause, are Mr. Isaacs, and Rudolph tlie Prisoner of Zenda. Not men by any means whom I would like you to know. He raised his eyebrows in a supercilious manner and walked off with J.inice at his side. My aninzeinent during this little scene was so great that not until the couple had moved away, Janice first casting a glance into the glass of the bookcase, did my eyes leave the spot. I looked around and lo! the room was filled with my friends of book-land. Dear Mother Goose with her retinue was present, mingling with the lords and ladies, clowns and villains of Shakespeare. Many and varied were the incongruous groups. The fair maids of the days of paint and patches were chatting gayly with the club- men of to-day. Becky Sharp was fascinating and bewildering the Little Minister; Dorothy Manners was talking in a friendly fashion with the Gentleman from Indiana, while the Soldier of Fortune leaned over htr chair holding her fan. One tall, white figure was moodily walk- ing up and down one side of the room. Look- ing closer I recognized Arbaces the Egyptian. Even in the midst of such a company he mused alone. So haughty and cold it seemed as if no one would dare approach him. While