Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 September 1888 — WOMAN AS A DRIVER. [ARTICLE]

WOMAN AS A DRIVER.

She Enjoys It, but the Horse and the Spectators Suffer. [Fred H. New York Tribune.} The word was quickly passed along tha Children screamed and scattered right and left, strong men shuddered and grew pale, and some drew back into doorways. Suddenly she dashed around the corner. Then she was gone. A policeman crawled out of the street with a broken leg and ruined countenance. She dashed on down the street. Those who were warned in time got out of her way; the others were borne down. The truck drivers and ice wagon men hurried into side streets. The passengers got off a horse-car and lifted it from the track and gave her the right of way. Was she insane or anything of that kind ? 0, no, not at all. She was all right—simply one of those ladies who “like to drive,” and “can handle a horse better than any man they ever saw,” “dearly love horses,” and all that sort of thing. Occasionally she turns a corner and snaps off a lamp-post or draws under a shade tree. The horse is breathing pretty hard, so to take his attention from his lungs she stirs him up with the whip. Then she comes to a hill and agitates the whip all the way to the top. She is fond of riding fast when she driyes. And this horse just loves to go if you only lei him know what you want of him. She lets him know all right enough. She allows the horse to rest once in a while, of course—not long at a time, but then, when we consider that she always stays for the purpose at the intersection of two narrow streets and right across the car track, perhaps it is long enough. Then she always drives fast enough to make up for lost time. She’s doing it now. See the steam fire engine get out of her way! There goes the wheel off a hose cart—those hose carts can’t stand everything. Then there are a few more hills and the horse again gets his attention drawn from the condition of his lungs. At Tenth street the horse lies down exhausted. “Oh, dear,” she says, as a policeman approaches. “I really don’t know what’s the matter with my horse—l never saw him lie down this way before. I’ve driven him from One Hundred and Twenty-third street, and he came all right to here. He must be balky or something of that kind.” “Is it a question of life and death, madam?” asks the policeman as he approaches cautiously. “Oh, dear, yes, pretty nearly. lam going to the meeting of the Woman’s Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and I don’t see what they can do if their President isn’t there. Can’t you poke him in the side a little with the stick you’ve got?”