180 



THE AMERICAN BEE KEEPER. 



June 



\n UNFORGOTTEN KISS. 



The ran.i is rattling on the pane, the wind is 

 sleeping by, 



Now with discordant shriek, anon with melan- 

 choly cry. 



A lonely man, I sit and read beside the dying 

 fire 



The daily tale of love and crime, of greed and 

 vain desire. 



The letters blur and fade, the room grows dim 

 and disappears. 



And in its stead old scenes come back across 

 the waste of years, 



And set in frame of golden hair a fair young 

 face I see. 



Whose two soft eyes of deepest blue look wist- 

 fully on me. 



Once, on a memorable eve, when heart and 



hope were young, 

 Those Iviminous eyes upon my life a sudden 



glory flung. 

 As she was then I see her now, my young, my 



only choice. 

 The brightness on her svmny brow, the musi( 



in her voice. 



One question, and but one, I ask, then for an 

 answer wait. 



My very heart is motionless, expectant of its 

 fate. 



A wondrous light— the light of love— glows id 

 the tender eyes — 



Her breath is warm upon my face— Oh, sweet- 

 est of replies ! 



But, bless my heart 1 The driving rain is com- 

 ing in, I fear, 



Or is that shining little drop upon the page a 

 tear? 



Well, who would think an old gray head could 

 be so soft as this 



When more than thirty years have fled since 

 that fond, foolish ki.is! 



— John Scott in Chambers' Journal. 



ONLY AN ACROBAT. 



The first ijight of the season at th(? 

 Hippodroms et Menagerie des Nation? 

 in that laughter loving and light heart- 

 ed city of cities — Paris. 



Well might the proprietor, the genial 

 Artelio Milandri, hum a tune as he con- 

 tentedly counted the "takings," for 

 there was not a seat to spare. One sim- 

 mering, sweltering mass of gay Pari.s- 

 ians, patiently waiting the idol of ev- 

 ery European capital, the one and the 

 only, the inimitable Paolo. 



Paolo, better known to his friends 

 and associates as Bob Sinclair, was a 

 young Englishman — a well set up, fresh 

 colored, curly haired Yorkshire lad. 

 Apprenticed as a tiny boy to the pro- 



prietor or a iraTPiiii^' circus, i.c nan, 

 willy-nillv gone through the mill, now 

 horsemai], now acrobat, now clown, 

 now ringmaster, anything and every- 

 thing. A day came at length when, tak- 

 ing advantage of the "strong man" 

 craze, Bob's muscles, thews and sinews 

 suddenly launched him into fame, and 

 as "Paolo, the English Hercules," he 

 blossomed into the sought after "star," 

 whom the crowded houses had paid 

 their hard earned francs to see. 



When Paolo stepped into the ring, 

 the public enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

 It would be only taking up space to de- 

 scribe the "strong man" performance, 

 which is now so familiar to everybody. 



Though Paolo worked that night as 

 cleverly as usual and without any ap- 

 parent effort to the eyes of the onlook- 

 ers, yet within himself he felt weighed 

 down by a strange foreboding that some- 

 thing unusual was about to happen, and 

 he felt really relieved when at last his 

 performance was finished, and he was 

 at liberty to return once more to his 

 dressing room. 



Scarce had the heavy velvet hangings 

 separating the ring from the "back" 

 of the house fallen behind him when 

 his "dresser" rushed breathlessly up to 

 him, his knees almost smiting together 

 and terror contorting every feature of 

 his countenance. 



"Heaven help us, M. Paolo!" he 

 gasped, "What shall we do? Scipio 

 has got loose from his cage and is mak- 

 ing for the arena. It is the only outlet 

 were he can escape, and le bon Dieu 

 alone can save us!" 



Scipio was a huge lion, purchased as 

 a cub by Milandri for exhibition to the 

 patrons of his menagerie. Owing to 

 some carelessness in the fastening of his 

 cage door, the beast had managed to 

 escape, and, attracted by the smell of 

 the horses, was now making his way to 

 the arena, on the opposite side of which 

 the stables were situated. What could 

 Paolo do? 



Beads of perspiration stood upon his 

 forehead as he thought of the eft'ects of 

 a sudden stampede among that vast con- 

 course; how in their wild alarm hun- 

 dreds of women and children — aye, and 

 strong men too — would be crushed and 

 trampled to death. 



"Where are Francois, Jean, Pierre 

 and the rest?" he asked. 



