Which fact must have been a great comfort to the recipient of this
final love token.

But Byron was the man for love tokens. To "Mary" on receiving her
picture, to "a lady" who sent him a lock of her hair braided with his
own, and to scores of others, he wrote still living lines. Several
such verses seem now more ludicrous than lovely. To her who presented
him with the velvet band that had bound her tresses, he vowed:

Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
'Twill bind my soul in bonds to thee;
From me again 'twill ne'er depart,
But mingle in the grave with me.

This was written in 1806. He was then eighteen. Think of the love
tokens "binding his soul," and otherwise encumbering him, during the
eighteen years that followed, and of all those, if he kept his
promises, that now "mingle in the grave" with him! Fortunately,
however, the poet had the happy facility of disencumbering himself.
His love tokens to one unfortunate were a chain and lute. The gifts
were charmed, "her truth in absence to divine." The chain shivered in
the grasp of any other that took it from her neck; the chords of the
lute were mute when another attempted to sing to her of his love. And
how in his element was Byron when he could write to her:

'Tis past--to them and thee adieu--
False heart, frail chain and silent lute.

But, despite Moore's insincerity and Byron's vagaries, the man of
to-day more frequently, and longer than woman, cherishes his tokens of
love.

How often do men bring breach of promise suits? Women--none possibly
that you or I personally know--will calmly enter the courtroom and
brutally exhibit their love letters and love tokens--the most sacred
things on earth, are they not?--to indifferent jurors, gleeful
reporters and the gloating public.

Compare such a courtroom scene with the floral games of the Toulouse
of long ago, and the legendary origin of the golden violet. Imprisoned
by her father because of her love, the girl threw from between the
bars a bouquet to her lover--a bouquet of a violet, an eglantine and a
marigold. In a later siege, the lover saved the father's life, but
lost his own. Dying, he took the flowers from his bosom and implored
that they be returned to his sweetheart. The maiden's death followed
quickly. All she had on earth she left, in memory of her love token,
to the celebration of the floral games, and the golden violet became
the troubadours' most cherished prize.

There are st