1896. 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEFEH. 



1(;9 



YET LUVE CAIN LAST. 



Yet love can la.st, yi-t V ivu ouii last, 

 Tin- future be as was the past, 

 Ami fai'ih aud foiuhu,'.ss never know 

 Tlu' cln') of (Iwiiuiliiig afterglow, 

 If t<j familiar luarth there- oling 

 The viry:in fre.shiiess of the spring 

 And Ai)rirs music still be heard 

 In wooing voice and winning word. 



If when autumnal shadows streak 

 'Sbtk furrowed brow, the wrinkled cheek, 

 Devcm.-;n, deepenizig to the close. 

 Like fruit that ripens tenderer grows; 

 If, thmjirh the leaves of youth and hope. 

 Lie thick on life's declining slope. 

 The fond heart, faithful to the last, 

 Lingers in love drifts to the past ; 

 If, with the gra%-ely shortening days, 

 Faith trims the lamp, faith feeds the blaze. 

 And reverence, nibtd in wintry whit«. 

 Sheds fragrance like a summer night — 

 Then love can last I 



—Alfred Austin. 



CAUSE AND EFFECT. 



"Gossip — it's a confounded nnisancel 

 That's what I call it! Why can't they 

 let us alone? I am accustomed to any 

 amount of gossip. People must have 

 Bomething to talk about, and I'm sure 

 I'm delighted to be able to afford them 

 any amusement, but when it comes to 

 being smacked on the hstcls. and congrat- 

 ulated six times in one afternoon it's 

 coming it a bit too strong. I don't 

 mind for my own sake — a man can look 

 after himself — but I'm thinking of you. 

 I was in Ik .pes that you had not heard. " 



"Not heard indeefl! I had tAvo letters 

 this momiug and three this afternoon, 

 four wanting to know when the wed- 

 ding wa.'^ to be iuid the fifth from a girl 

 asking to be bridesmaid. I am afraid to 

 go out. People fly at me at every cor- 

 ner, shake my hands off and say how 

 delighted they are, and how charming 

 it is, and how they always knew it 

 would come to this, and that we are 

 made for one another — they never did 

 know t^vo people so exactly suit-ed. ' ' 



"Extr;K)rtlinary! That's what they 

 say to me. I never was so taken aback 

 in my life. Of course we've always 

 been good friends, but" — 



"Certainly not. " 



"And I don't think"— 



"Neither do L It's absurd! Utter 

 nonsense 1" 



"No, but really — let us have it out 

 while we are about it. What can have 



given rise to such a ridiculous report? 

 We have b»eu a good deal together, of 

 course, because we are in the same set 

 and always seem to hit it off, and you 

 are such a jolly good dancer and all 

 that kindcf thing — but I can't see what 

 we have done to set people talking at 

 this rate. Honestly, now — I am anxious 

 to know — did you ever imagine — that 

 is to say, did you think — I mean, have 

 I ever" — 



"You never have. No, Captain May, 

 and I have never imagined! On the con- 

 trary, I don't mind admitting, now that 

 we ai"e upon the subject, that I have 

 cherished a secret grudge tigainst you 

 because you have never given me an op- 

 portunity of refusing you. That sort of 

 neglect rankles in a woman's mind, and 

 now you see for yourself the awkward 

 position in which it has placed me. 

 Wl-^en people ask if I am engaged to 

 you, I am obliged to confess that I have 

 never been asked. You ought to have 

 thought of this and provided against 

 it. It would have been so easy some 

 night at a ball or in an interval at the 

 theater — the whole thing might have 

 been over in five minutes, and then I 

 should have been able to say that I had 

 refused you, and everything would have 

 been happy and comfortable. I don't 

 feel as if I could ever forgive you!" 



"Sorry, indeed! You see I should 

 have been most happy, only I could nev- 

 er feel quite sure that you really would 

 re"— 



"How odious you are! You need not 

 have been afraid. There never was any- 

 thing more certain since the beginning 

 of the world. I wouldn't marry you to 

 save my life. I v\-ould as soon think of 

 falling in love with the man in the 

 moon. We have always been friends, of 

 com-se, but that couxits for nothing. 

 One may like a person very much and 

 yet find it quite impossible to go any 

 further. I could better love a worse 

 man. ' ' 



"Same with me. I think no end of 

 you, but when Lewis came up and con- 

 gi-atulated me the other day I was 

 struck all of a heap. If he had said the 

 same thing about a dozen other girls, I 

 should have been less surprised, but it 

 never occurred to me to look upon you 

 in that light. " 



"Oh, indeed! I'm awfully obliged, 

 I'm sure, but I don't think much of 



