February 14, 1900

From the
The Atlanta Constitution February 14, 1900

My first is in river but not in creek,
My second's in Roman but not in Greek,
My third is in liver but not in heart,
My fourth is in carriage but not in cart,
My fifth is in night but not in day.
My sixth is in light but not in fay,
My seventh's in ice but not in snow,
My eighth is in glean but not in mow,
My ninth is in vowel; my whole you'll surmise,
Is a token of love to pretty blue eyes,
And also the name of a good old saint
Whose birthday is kept with paper and paint.

Today is St. Valentine's day--the day when the serious young man gets sentimental and the sentimental young man bethinks himself of a fitting word that will rhyme with "love", and spends long, wearisome and a vast amount of brain tissue in constructing a love lyric. For St. Valentine's day was set apart years and years ago as the occasion when sentiment should run riot, and man and maid alike were privileged to convey to each other through the medium of honeyed missives the tantalizing thoughts that their feeble tongues were unable to utter.

Connected with the sending the sending of a valentine--one of the lace-edged, speared heart kind with flowing lines of love encircled with a wreath of forget-me-nots; or with a brace of Cupids hovering around, and costumes of importance--is tradition that the identity of the sender is to remain a deep secret and the recipient must guess for herself.

It is exceedingly doubtful if this was ever a deep-rooted desire on the part of the young man who had spent $5 on a flimsy love token. Certain it is that the youth of today doesn't try very hard to hide his identity. He may make a pretence, but the pretence is so palpable that he does not even deceive himself.

No, in these days of competition the lovesick youth doesn't disguise his handwriting, and the chances are that his initials are under the flap of the envelope. Tonight he'll call on the young lady and if she doesn't say something about the missive he will be pretty apt to bring the conversation around to the point and exclaim in the midst of a dead calm, as if the idea had just occurred to him:

"Dear me, today's Valentine's day, ain't it?"

To which the young lady will reply in tones of equal surprise:

"Really, you don't say so! I'd forgotten all about it."

This is a signal for a pause. After fifteen minutes elapse, during which time the youth is engaged in tracing imaginary designs on the carpet with the toe of his patent leathers, he looks up and says:

"Did you get me anything?"

And if the young brother of the girl knows his business he'll leave the room at the this stage of the proceedings, for they've got a lot to talk about that wouldn't interest him in the least.

There has been a noticeable falling off in the number of valentines sent during the last three or four years, but the day is still pretty generally observed by the youth of the country. If there has been a decrease in the mail on Valentino's day during the past few years, there is an increase in the number of pounds of candy and the dozens of roses sold on this day.

One reason given for the gradual disuse into which the day seems to be falling is the popularity of the 'comic' valentine. The usual proportion of these hideous looking things will be sent today by the small boy.

In this morning's newspaper, the perfect valentine made by a first grader states, "Go to the Frying Pan and have some blue cheese dressing from the salad bar."

Happy Day to all.

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