. Focus. didnot think of the individual man, when he was conspiringagainst Csesar, but of the liberty of his people; he did notthink of gaining power and empire for himself, but of free-ing his country. Ibma Frances Price, Argus, 12. THE FOCUS 121 There are eyes that beam with a loving glow, Softly and shyly appealing;There are eyes that with brightness and mirth overflow, While smiles through the lashes are stealing;There are eyes that are dreamy, far-gazing and sad. Back into the past dimly reaching;There are eyes that are mischievous, hopelessly bad, Still, approval are always beseeching;Th
. Focus. didnot think of the individual man, when he was conspiringagainst Csesar, but of the liberty of his people; he did notthink of gaining power and empire for himself, but of free-ing his country. Ibma Frances Price, Argus, 12. THE FOCUS 121 There are eyes that beam with a loving glow, Softly and shyly appealing;There are eyes that with brightness and mirth overflow, While smiles through the lashes are stealing;There are eyes that are dreamy, far-gazing and sad. Back into the past dimly reaching;There are eyes that are mischievous, hopelessly bad, Still, approval are always beseeching;There are eyes that are innocent, eyes that are wise,Eyes that are thoughtful—questioning eyes;There are eyes that are gloriously, sparklingly bright,Eyes that do rival the stars of the night;There are eyes in whose dark and fathomless depths One gazing would never tire—But give me the soft, deep, love-lighted eyes That speak with a hidden fire. Elizabeth Habt, Argus, 12. 122 THE FOCUS jfate anD a jFog. ]RS. LANDORS morning-room was a litterof maps and railway guides. In the midstMrs. Landors maid moved calmly about,putting the finishing touches to the pack-ing of her mistresss voluminous start in the morning, and take thesleeper at Warren to-morrow night. Aunt Anna, suggestedDaphne Maywood, Mrs. Warrens orphan niece, with a faintshow of interest. ISTo; its flat and hot between here and Warren. Welltake the sleeper at this end, to-night. That will put us intoWarren at daybreak, and from there on, if you remember,we shall be among the mountains. Daphne was silent, and her aunt resumed her study of therailway guides. Look, Daphne, she exclaimed, pointing to an insignifi-cant black dot among the network of lines on the map. Wepass right by that little place where we were last summer. Yes, Aunt Anna, said Daphne, without looking, however. Pine Crest Inn, wasnt it?—or some such name. Excel-lent fare, I remember . . By the way, that was whereyou met that Philip Gwyn
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