The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1923-01-21


Mahal in the moonlight. Both have
/ seen, and both have stimulated in
my heart poetry and reverence: and
that is the official business of beauty.
The first / met one day last May
in an English garden. The air was
re6olent with q thousand changing
perfumes, the blue bowl of heaven
skirted and frilled with spotless
clouds; peace in sky and peace on
landl
She came through the opening In
the box-hedge, and her arms were
filled with lilacs. She was holding
them close to her throat. and their
hearness lent to her skin the tint
of a wonderful pearl once saw in
a shop in the Chandni Chowk in
Delhi, l felt = my years painfully.
Grizzled old bachelor that 1 was.
what had I done with my youth?
Aren't they exquisite?" she said
to my sister She sat down by the
tea table.
l was Observation-Disclosures carelessly,
thought.
"Lilacs-they remind me of home"
I said, looking down into my cup for
fear she might see the curiosity in
my eyes and misinterpret it.
Here was one of those perfect Eng
lish faces, type peculiar to England
alone; delicate in, feature, blue of
eyes, proud yet gentle in expression.
She was very pale, and this pallor
was singularly enhanced by thick and
heavy coils of hair.
1t was peculiar red; it burned in
sunlight and smoldered in shadow. ]
had never seen that identical tint IN
hair before. 1t recalled to my mind
the sometimes unaccountable ash of
chestnut.
"Home?" She smiled across the
iilacs, then bent and breathed their
fragrance THAT will be America.
I'm sure"
] laughed TT is impossible for us
An orleans to brazen it out under the
rlea of cosmopolitanism. For 20 years
or more my gray hairs have been
wandering up and down the world,
and still can't learn to broaden my
a, and l am still hanging desper-
ately to my e."
How stupid of met she ex-
claimed II did not recognize the
name. You are Kate's brcC
Il wanted you to make that dis
covery yourself said Kate.
And of course you are Glorianna
Brooks. Glorianna, Do you know.
think that is wonderful name?
There's a lit to it, like Irish music"
My sister stared at me, puzzled
and a glow came into Miss Brooks
cheeks Kate had doubtless told her
that l was "a lovable old stick" and
determined to shock both of them
out of that idea. So l went on:
skate, when she writes. which is
about once a year, generally Novem-
ber-no doubt a covert prod not to
forget the Riddles on Christmas.-is
slways referring to Glerianna, but
like a woman, always hazily.
she goes here with Glorianna
Not a bit of description, age or his
tory-iust Glorianna Brooks"
Gordon, you are talking like
school boy" Kate turned APOLOGIZE
cally TO Miss Brooks. STILL ~ Is a
nice brother. But heavens! the way he
wanders about. with his germ bot
ties and his resounding names.
Facts and more facts! He doesn't
believe in fairgrounds as vehicle
for future events, or in palmistry or
dreams. Think of it, Glory; he never
believed in Santa Claus or Hans An
dersen He went wrong from the
start"
"All the mere marvellous that l
should suddenly turn about face at
my age and confess readiness to be-
1ieve in any kind of rigmarole."
You've had ali adventurei'
"Of /, Sort l replied carelessly
GLORY, he's always having adyen-
lures, and still he believes in nothing
but facts. He knows all about the
boubonc plague. but he has to go to
another doctor whenever he has the
slightest cold"
Hello, Doctor" was the hail of
Jack, my sisters brother-in-law. His
right arm was still in a sling. A ma
chine gun at Loos had battered his
shoulder so badly that | had some
doubt Of his ever using the arm
again. Anyhow, its full lifting power
would never be the same. Otherwise
he was in luck.
He gulped his tea thirstily and
smacke, his lips. / smiled; I<could
not help it, War had changed this
erstwhile> fop. changed his man
ners, his bearing, his outlook. He
nc longer said. Il fancy" or Quite
So" when he wasn't listening to a
word you said.
Now he talked straight at one,
quickly and nervously.
Only few years ago he would
have been visibly shocked at
mans gulping his tea and smacking
his lips over it.
The talk drifted to our friends
Edward Jameson, an aviator killed in
the war.
Poor old Ned.' said Jack. yet his
was the life. To fly at your enemy,
5000 feet in the air; to maui old man