. Book of the Royal blue . sleep of delight ;The moon of soft September, silver fingered, walks the down Catoctin valleys, and by that crystal sisters of the shadows waltz with wine-red lips of gleam : Ah, banjo, plink your music,Swing taut the fiddle bow. Where feet of fay and fairy In the tender dream-dance go 1 O savers of the fodder in sweet Catoctin dells. Lay by the golden harvest when the Autumn weaves its spells! The horns, the horns, are calling, the hounds are on the trail. The ladies in the red coats join the revel in the vale 1 The valleys of Catoctin, the glad
. Book of the Royal blue . sleep of delight ;The moon of soft September, silver fingered, walks the down Catoctin valleys, and by that crystal sisters of the shadows waltz with wine-red lips of gleam : Ah, banjo, plink your music,Swing taut the fiddle bow. Where feet of fay and fairy In the tender dream-dance go 1 O savers of the fodder in sweet Catoctin dells. Lay by the golden harvest when the Autumn weaves its spells! The horns, the horns, are calling, the hounds are on the trail. The ladies in the red coats join the revel in the vale 1 The valleys of Catoctin, the glades of gold and green. The hills the Autumn colors with the glory of her sheen: Good morning, oh, good-morning,Ve dells, ye dales of light; The sweet Catoctin valleys. And the lips that kiss good-night ! The historic town of Frederick. Maryland, liesin thebrautifui Catoctin Valley. Soutli Mountain and Braddock Heightscast their shadows over the graves which hold all that was monal of Prancis Scott Key and Barbara Why is it that human character re-spects sincerity and goodness in womenand suspects the same qualities amongmen ? EvER\ man is dragged down by a con-dition in life that does not uplift him. It is so easy to disappoint a hope bythe indulgence of a doubt. A MODERN form of genius is common-sense seasoned with rational judgment. Indecision as to lifes intentions butdeepens the shadows on the highway ofeffort. Stupidity is often responsible for agreat deal of apparent rascality. The ideal life is that condition whichbrings us the most happiness and sparesothers the most pain. There can be no tears of loss shed overthose things which we have yet to find. Let us hope on. It is the last strawsometimes in the ocean of effort thatpoints to an incoming tide. There are no thorns upon that pacificplant known as the flower of silence. Hi; commits a double crimetempts another to do wrong. who There is no half-way status of pur-pose: we either try to succeed or lie downon
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