xote charged. It is with you to
keep the high spirit of it an ever-burning vestal fire. It was a deadly
play of old--it is a harmless play to you this day. But the prowess of
the game is unchanged; for the skill to strike those pendent rings is no
less than was the skill to strike armor-joint, visor, or plumed crest.
It was of old an exercise for deadly combat on the field of battle; it
is no less an exercise now to you for the field of life--for the quick
eye, the steady nerve, and the deft hand which shall help you strike the
mark at which, outside these lists, you aim. And the crowning triumph
is still just what it was of old--that to the victor the Rose of his
world--made by him the Queen of Love and Beauty for us all--shall give
her smile and with her own hands place on his brow a thornless crown."

Perfect silence honored the Hon. Samuel Budd. The Mayor was nodding
vigorous approval, the jeering ones kept still, and when after the last
deep-toned word passed like music from his lips the silence held sway
for a little while before the burst of applause came. Every knight had
straightened in his saddle and was looking very grave. Marston's eyes
never left the speaker's face, except once, when they turned with an
unconscious appeal, I thought, to the downcast face of Blight--whereat
the sympathetic little sister seemed close to tears. The Knight of the
Cumberland shifted in his saddle as though he did not quite understand
what was going on, and once Mollie, seeing the eyes through the
mask-holes fixed on her, blushed furiously, and little Buck grinned back
a delighted recognition. The Hon. Sam sat down, visibly affected by his
own eloquence; slowly he wiped his face and then he rose again.

"Your colors, Sir Knights," he said, with a commanding wave of his
truncheon, and one by one the knights spurred forward and each held
his lance into the grandstand that some fair one might tie thereon the
colors he was to wear. Marston, without looking at the Blight, held his
up to the little sister and the Blight carelessly turned her face while
the demure sister was busy with her ribbons, but I noticed that the
little ear next to me was tingling red for all her brave look of
unconcern. Only the Knight of the Cumberland sat still.

"What!" said the Hon. Sam, rising to his feet, his eyes twinkling and
his mask of humor on again; "sees this masked springal"--the Hon. Sam
seemed much enamored of that ancient word--"no maid so fair