THOUGHTS OF THE MELLOW PREVIOUSLY.
It is the evening of St. Valentine's Day, and I am thinking of the long ago. St. Valentine's Day is nothing now but a blessed memory. Another landmark has been left behind in our onward march toward the great hereafter. We come upon the earth, battle a little while with its joy? and its griefs, and then we pass away to give place to other actors on the mighty stage.
Only a few short years ago what an era St. Valentine's Day was to me.
Now I still get valentines, but they are different and they affect me differently.
They are not of so high an order of merit artistically, and the poetry is more impudent and less on the turtle-dove order.