The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1908-12-02
What Is Love?
By Edith [. Joslin.


governed and well trained. He lay on
the soft, sweet brown needles under
the tall, splendid pines, and listened
to the wind singing in their branches
high above his head and his thoughts
strayed into strange and divers ways.
And most thought he of love, for he
was young man. After idly musing
for a time he became more serious and
suddenly startled himself out of his
revery by abruptly asking: What is
love, wonder, anyway" And he who
had been so lanquid and tranquil but a
moment before seemed strangely agi-
tated and the question hammered it
self out again in pulse and brain.
What is love?
All at once a new sound stole into
the chaos that was existing within him
and like the cool delicious rain to the
parched and thirsty fields, so was this
new sound to his troubled brain. Bit
by bit it grew distinct until the man
no longer heard his question but in
its stead the melody of sweetly blend
ed voices giving him an answer to it.
He threw himself back on the pine
needles and relaxing his over-taxed
forces prepared to listen and to learn.
The melody that he heard was the
voices of the fresh, green branches of
the pines over his head. Love is life,
hove is beauty. Love is duty, love is
everything in the world" sang they.
Then they stopped and one voice
sweeter than the rest addressed him.
ooh, mortal man, wouldst thou know
the caress of the soft south wind as he
comes singing through the forest, and
the chill, hard cold blast of the north
wind as it wraps us about in its death
dealing embrace is our sorrow of love.
That to us, oh man, is love. That
which deals us all our joy and all our
sorrow" And the voice of the pine
tree was silent and another voice rich
with dainty fragrance spoke and the
man turned his head to behold sweet
violet growing at his feet.
Love, dear man." said the violet,
ais to me as it is to my sister the
pine tree, that which is all my joy
and all my sorrow. For the dew whose
light kiss is the life giving, anon turns
to ice and chills me into insensibility
and yet is the dew my love-" and the
violet hung her fair head as though
the modest TRADE had frightened her
gentle soul. Then up spoke bright
little buttercup that grew just outside
the woods:
''My love, oh, mortal, is the beautiful
sun. His warm rays are such a joy
to me, such delight, but of, what
misery | know when he frowns or be-
comes wantonly cruel and scorches me
with his passion. So do | know love-"
and the buttercup lifted her pretty
head and smiled fondly at her lover.
And as the man lay thinking of
what he had heard he saw woman
approaching. She was beautiful with
all the splendid beauty of maturity and
rs she neared him he felt his pulses
beat faster for her coming.
what is love, dear MANI" she mur-
INJURED as she knelt beside him. Love
Is joy; love is pleasure-see, am
bringing it to YOU" And she bent clos
er. "You are young end handsome
and brave-I would win you. 1t pleases
me to make you my slave and so to
take you into the halls of pleasure and
then offer you in return for your
servitude the possession of all this
beauty and charm. Art mind, dear
man." and she bent still nearer and
pressed her full red lips to his.
He had anticipated delight, but the
touch of those red lips was like rank
poison to him. He made motion as
though to push her from him and
drew back with shudder. Thou art
a child, not man, and thou does not
deserve to know what love is nor to
he permitted to Gull its sweets" said
the proud beauty scornfully as she
drew herself erect and moved majes-
tically away.
The man closed his eyes to shut out
that tempting beauty, but with sigh
Of relief crept up to his lips and was
breathed when he felt that she had
gone. Some way he felt that the pine
tree, and the violet, and the butter
cup, all had a better idea of love than
he had at first thought.
All at once and quite against his
will be opened his eyes and looked at
the foot of the tree where the humble
violet grew. Could he be dreaming?
No, 1t was not a vision, but beautiful
girl that sat there so fondly toying
with the violet at her side. Every
line in her dainty body suggested
grace Her face, bent over the flower,
told of kindness of heart and beauty
of mind.
She raised her head and looked at
him, and the pretty arched lips parted
S''Thou hast asked, what is love? Love.
oh man, is life. Love Is tender, for