Daily Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 19 May 1889 — Page 6

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WAYS OF THE WOMEN FOLK.

Mrs, Hodgson BurneU's Curious Experience With Letter Writers.

THE TIGRESS AND THE AVERAGE WOMAN ARE STR E A KY.

Wbere Do th.e Female Typewriters Come From?—A Daring Horsewoman.

Mrs. Burnett, who is about to

Bail

for

Nngland, where she will spend the summer, has some curious experiences with the letter-writing public. There is scarcely a day when she does not get as many as a dozen letters from strangers begging for her autograph, asking questions, imploring financial aid or literary advice, or simply pouring forth rapturous admiration and gratitude. Sometimes when she has a spare moment she sits down and writeB her name over and over again upon a great sheet of foolscap, and then when requests come for her autograph her secretary, Miss Cheillini, has simply to clip a slip from this sheet and inclose it in a stamped envelope to the applicant. One of the most curious letters Mrs. Burnett has ever found in her morning mail is from a woman who excpaimed with much circumlocution that she was well aware that she was trespassing upon th© time of a very busy woman, who must al,oo«3j De persecuted with many communications from strangers on frivulous matters. She went on to say that she had not written to apply for pecuniary aid, as she was a person in easy circumstances nor had she come for literary advice, as she was merely a reader and a lover of literature and not a writer' She went on further to explain what she did not want by saying that she had not even written to beg an autograph, though of course, incidentally, she would be pleased to receive Mrs. Burnett signature appended to her reply. Having tnus set the authoress' mind at rest on these subjects she proceeded to explain why she had written. She had ardently admired Mrs. Burnet's works, but more especially ".Little Lord Fauntleroy," which she declared she found more elevating and delightful than any book she had ever reap, and so great was her respect for the author of it that she had written to inquire what was her favorite article of food. Iler idea was that she would derive great pleasure from knowing what Mrs. Burnett liked best to eat, so that when she partook of the same dish she might be pleasantly reminded of the author of her book. To this Mrs. Burnett answered with her usual amiability that she was extremely grateful for the lady's good opinion, and deeply appreciated the kind way in which she had expressed it that she was most happy to comply with any request made by the admirers of her books when it lay in her power that in this case she was happy to state that the writer of the letter might be able to enjoy the pleasure of associating pleasant memories of "Little Lord Fauntleroy" with the delights of the table very frequently, as Mrs. Burnett's favorite article of food was and always had been bread and butter. "I've often wondered," thoughtfully remarked a Cincinnati stenographer whose hair has grown gray in the thirty years he has been writing shorthand, "where all these female typewriters come from." The young man to whom he Bpoke didn't know, and the veteran said: "There are 3,000 now in Cincinnati, and 5,000 more studying." The female typewriter, as observed by a reporter who knocks about town a good deal, is numerous. She is mostly a lively, goodlooking young woman of 18 to 2f. The reason of her youthfulness is perhaps found in the fact that the* typewriting business is still in its infancy, while the fact of her good looks is merely another illustration of the laws of natural selection. Old girls do not learn new tricks, and the young ones who hove essayed the typewriter with success haven't yet had time to grow old. The female typewriter in this city, to be a success, must not only be young and good-looking, but refiued, intelligent and educated, with the tact to repair her employer's grammatical breaks without injuring his dignity, and capable of throwing his few vague and heterogeneous thoughts, badly expressed, into a clear, concise and expressive communication. And does she receive remuneration sufficient for her work? That is a question frequently asked. The type of girl described above does. The girl who isn't of this type doesn't, and ought not to. "i took a young girl into my oflice three years ago us stenographer and typewriter," said an old ollice man yesterday, "at a salary of $8 a week. Today she is the most valuable man— woman, rat her—in my employ, and I pay her as much as any man in the oflice. 1 do it because she is worth it. If a man isn't able to do his work this little woman can, and usually she does it better than he ever did. What do I pay her? Just $00 aQutpf_Jilfii eliC. J.ESfiB&B' nicely, supports her old mother and sends her two younger sisters to a first class school. She's a jewel." •The tigress at the circus and the average woman have one point in common just now—they are both streaky as far as their hair is concerned. The woman who has bleached is now endeavoring to get her hair back to a darker shade, so that she may make it a warm. It cannot be done while it is bo very blonde, and she is undergoing this streaky condition tiiat she may attain her end. She hopes to roach such a color as that belonged to the Horgia, and she does not see why a single thread of her hair, granted she gets the right shade, might not be preserved by the United States government and exhibited as is the one so proudly shown in Florence as havingbelonged to the wicked Lucretia. It is odd how many famous women have had this Tititian red hair. Catherine of Russia gloried in it, and Anne of Austria had brown hoir just on the verge of being red. Ninon de L'Enclos was equally proud of her warm-colored tressee, and Slary Stuart seemed a very daughter of the sun. One wonders if with the red hair will come the knowledge of womanly wiles so well understood by all these enchantresses. Jane Hading and Mrs. Potter both have warm auburn hair, but it does not reach the real tinge, which is that which crowned, in all her glory, the head of the Empress Eugenie, she who has known the extreme of happiness and of sadness.

Hannah Snell flourished in the reign of George II. Her grandfather was a soldier who fought with Malplaquet. She married early, her husband beiDg a

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Polka time,

Dutch sailor, who maltreated and deserted her, leaving her with a baby, which died, whereupon Hannah appropriated a suit of her brother-in-law's clothes, and assuming his name, which was Thomas Grey, enlisted in General Gurse's regiment. After awhile she deserted, but subsequently re-enlisted in the navy as a marine, in which capacity she served in the East and West Indies. From her dexterity in washing and mending for the men, and from her being beardless, she acquired the nickname of "Miss Molly but her bravery in action eventually caused her to be invested with the more honorable cognomen of "Hearty Jenny." Being at last discharged from the service—during all this time her sex was undiscovered.— Hannah Snell went on the stage, and appeared with much applause as Bill Bobstay, a sailor, and as Firelock, a grenadier. In consideration of the hardships she had undergone in the service of her country—which hardships comprised, among other tribulations, 500 lashes that she got at the halberts, and an almost equally barbarous scourging at the gangway on board ship—the government awarded Hannah a pension of .1*20 ($100) a year, on the strength of which she took a public houBe in London, with the appropriate sign of "The Widow in Masquerade or, The Female Warrior."

One of the most vigorous, untiring women workers this city has absorbed in many a year is Mrs. Sallie McDonald, the granddaughter of the noted Tom Corwin, writes a New York correspondent. She came here from Ohio about a year ago with no money and set to worl in various departments of_lai3f. one is an energetic and successful advertising solicitor and gets a handsome income from that line of business. Occasionally she sells a typewriter or a sewing machine, and is negotiating the Bale of rolling stock to a new railroad on commis-

She is interested in a new city on the Erie and has become the owner of several lots, and iB now erecting a couple of houses on speculation. She makes orange marmalade of a quality superior to the imported article, and sells it to the wholesale dealers. She writes each week a fashion article, and owns an interest in a patent for a new toy. She is full of ideas, keen and bright, is always at work, and is considered the best collector of money in the advertising business. Withal, she is remarkably even tampered and so always pleases her customers.

Miss Bessie E. Kilpatrick, of Sacramento, Cal., a most daring horsewoman, who was brought up among the wild bronchos of Texas, met with a singular accident in West Park on Tuesday afternoon,says the Philadelphia Inquirer. She was riding a Kentucky 3-year-old mare, just broken to saddle, in oompany with her brother, Colonel Kilpatrick, and Miss Frost, of north Seventeenth street, when the mare ehied at a piece of paper on the roadside. The girth broke, and with one bound the mare dashed forward. Miss Kilpatrick for a second lost control of the animal and was away like the wind. As she found the saddle slipping from under her she shouted to her brother, "Halt your horses! Don't follow me!" and leaning forward grabbed the mare by the ears. The saddle slipped down, and with a sudden plunge forward she threw one hand over one eye of the mare, which turned half-way,

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OF THE VALLEY.

POLKA CAPBICE.

and Misa Kilpatrick then slid to the ground, still holding the reins. Here's a pretty story from the Detroit News: "What a pretty child whose is it?" said one lady to another as they crossed Madison square. "I noticed you nodded to the nurse." "Thereby hangs a tale," responded her companion. "The nurse used to be in my employ and left it to become the wife of a coachman. They live over his stable not far away, and the child is theirs. She dresses it like a millionaire's baby, in the finest and most dainty of clothes, which she faithfully copies from Fifth avenue children. She cannot dress herself to -correspond, so she weare the nurse's livery for her own child, and is proud to have passers-by stop and admire him as some favored darling of a wealthy home. Curious fancy for one of her sort, isn't it, who, as a rule, are so eager to drop the regalia of service?"

Mrs. Eunice Viola Edwards, who died in Easton the other day, was a woman of the old fashioned stamp. She was the mother of fifteen children, twelve boys and three girls. When asked one time what she was raising bo many boys for she replied that she was bringing them up to fight for their country. When the war broke out five or six of her sons were old enough to go to the front, and every one volunteered. Her husband, Albert Edwards, also tried to enlist but was too old. A Bridgeport lady who had only one son was talkingwith Mrs. Ed wards expressed fear only child might •ir hav*f«*rrr~to the war. "Six of my sons are there," said Mrs. Edwards, "and my husband tried to go, and I am mad because I am not a man, so I can go, too."

The animal attempted to run, but the young woman had grabbed the bit by the ring, and by the time her brother and friends reached her she had quieted the animal and was laughing at the escapade. Asked if she was not afraid, she replied: "If I had been afraid I should have been killed. I only wanted to get my hand over Jennie's eyes, and then I knew she would keep quiet. Oh, no there is no use in being afraid." The girth was refastened and she continued her ride.

The Perfection of Moving.

ANew York paper tells how One of the 400" moves: The family go to,a hotel in the city or take a run to Elberon or Lakewood, and the major domo begins his work. The silver is sent to a safe deposit.vau It,trained hands come and

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ack the Sevres and Dresden, the bric-a-and paintings, the beautiful furniture is swathed and hooded, and finally a procession of the great padded moving vans conveys these valuables to their new quarters. When milady comes back to her home, except for the new view from her windows Bhe will hardly know her apartment has been touched. The dresses hang in their wardrobes, the lingerie is all folded away in its presses as before, and on the dressing bureau even her toilet case is open ready for instant use. This is the perfection of moving, but the small boy of that family ioeee one of the privileges of his kind.

The Part Was Smin.

Full Blown Rose—What a pity, dear, you are engaged so young. You will never have the fun of refusing a man.

Bud—No, but I've had the fun of accepting one.—[Life.

THE TERRE HAUTE EXPRESS, SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 19, 1889.

CARL SIDUS, Op. 201.

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FINE.

When you and I were young. They say I am feeble with age, Maggie. My steps are less sprightly than then My face Is a well-written page, Maggie.

But time alone was the pen. They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, As sprays by the white breakers flung But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie,

When you and I were youog.

INGERSOLL AND HIS CHILDREN.

The Home Life of the Pariah—No Secrets There. In a notoriously gorgeous Broadway bar-room I saw Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll seated at a table drinking whisky with several cronies, writes "Kink" in the Indianapolis News. "What better can you expect of an infidel?" some of my readers will remark. A short time ago the colonel's name was thrown out by the manag^ra of the Players club as that of -zf man unfit for membership. -??o wonder," will be the comment of many. It is a fact beyond dispute that Ingersoll is a pariah. Having settled that point, let us view him from another standpoint. The sweetness and purity of his family relations have been extolled. I have investigated them, and they are indeed admirable.7 He has two daughters who are the very apples of his eyes. They have netfer gone to school a day in their lives, never attended a church service, never had a love affair, nor a secret from their parents, never uttered a prayer nor bowed their haughty heatjp before a shrine, image or priest, but they are in other respects two of the loveliest creatures that ever breathed the breath of life. If the big, merry, infidel la wyer could be induced to quit his ecclesiastical tirades long enough to write a book on how to bring up daughters, there would not only be profit for the writer and the publisher, but a very excellent reason for a lenitive opinion on the part of the abused church-goers. It is not possible to come in contact with these sisters without a feeling of admiration and astonishment. If one is pious, the feeling is also regretful. They captivate by their very presence their manners are irresistable, and the beauty of their lives is as positive as it is indescribable. Contrary to the established mode of procedure, the Ingersoll girls were never disciplined. The colonel started out by praising instead of punishing his children. Nothing was forbidden. Everyone was at liberty to Bay and do and be what he wished. The word "must" was. by common consent, eliminated from the family vocabulary, and has remained obsolete ever since. The average parent says to his child: **I want to be proud of you." Colonel Ingersoll changed the declension and said: "I want you to be proud of me." On that basis the

training of the little daughters began. The huBband and father orally planned the course of study, taking, his themes from the history of the day, and going into the paBt for side or optional studies.

TRIO.

WHEN YOU AND I W8RE YOUNG, MAGGIE. I wandered to-day to the hills, Moggie, To watch the scene below The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,

As we used to long ago. The green grove Is gone from the hill, Maggie, Where first the daisies sprung, The creaking old mill is still, Maggie,

Since you and I were young. Chorus-And now we are aged and gray, Maggie, And the trials of life nearly done.

Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie, When you and I were young.

A city so silent and lone, Maggie, Where the young and the gay and the best In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie,

Have each found a place of rest: 18 built where the birds used to play, Maggie, And join In the songs that were sung For we sang as gay as they, Maggie,

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A tutor was secured, under whose supervision mother and daughters worked, and nothing in the realm of domesticjor social science was permitted to overshadow the importance of these daily tasks. Houseaffairs were kept in the basement where they beionged, friends were wooed and welcomed, not by one, but by all, and the individuality that so much trouble is taken to develop is allowed to sink into that sweeter, better feeling ofindependence that made and still makes each helpless without the support of the other. There were no such things as secrets. Parents and daughters maintained but one universal confidence, and the trust and faith that so many girls give to strangers was secured and held by the mother and father, who have endeavored to be worthy of what they call the sweetest thing in life—child worship.

A Woman'* Weapon.

A long-range globe-sighted rifle in the hands of a marksman can be made to run up a score of bullseyes down a firing range, but will it in the timber do better work on deer thau a bored-out musket loaded with nine buckshot? The size of your game bag, or rather bag of game, depends a great deal on the knowledge of the firearms you're used to. An estimable English lady who came to Can-, ada some twenty-five years ago, was one day deeply interested in getting out the family washing. She had sheets and tablecloths out drying, when to her horror she saw the line go down and her spotless clothing trampled in the dirt. A large buck caught by the antlers was the cause of the trouble. There was not a man within five miles of her—they had all gone to a neighbor's for the day. She screamed, and the deer, the more he plunged the tighter he got wound up, and the louder she yelled. Something had to be done and done at once. She had a fine gun in the house, loaded, but she would not approach it, as fire-arms were her special dread. Among her many possessions she had a large pair of tongs—fire tongs—that she had brought over with her. She thoroughly understood this firearm, and with all her housewifely instincts outraged, grabbed them and sailed in. She had her clothing slightly torn, but within five minutes they had venison she literally pounded the buck's skull to a jelly, after which she told me she sat dowfl and had a good cry. It all depends on what you're used to.—(Forest and Stream^

Sauce for the Goose, Ktc.

There is a grim humor about some of Judge Lynch's executions. A bank president in Southwest Texas made away with all the funds under his charge and then posted on the door of his institution, "Bank Suspended." That night he was interviewed by a number of depositors, who left him banging to a tree with this notice pinned to his breast: "Bank President Suspended." Bank suspensions will not occur very frequently in that locality.

Changed Her Mind*

Mother—Johnnie, why are you crying? I'm only going to be away a week, and your papa will be home with you. "No, he won't he's going to Rome." "Going to Rome! Why, child, what do you mean?" "I heard him Bay he would make Rome howl when you left." "Oh, indeed! Well, I won't leave you, Johnnie."— [Lincoln Journal.

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CARDS UNDER HIS COLLAR.

A Congressman Who Cheated Ills Wife In a Euchre Game. A certain aged member from the West, says a writer in the Chicago Herald, used to take great delight in playing euchre with his wife at home. He does not enjoy the playing as much now as he used to, and for very curious reasons. Being a poor player and delighting to worry the old lady, who is an expert, he was in the habit of hiding the bowers back of his neck and selecting from them at pleasure.

After a game with his better half one evening he left home and dropped in at his club. While there he was induced to take a hand in a game, just for fup, the stakes being Bmall. Much to his surprise he found the cards coming his way.

The goddess of fortune seemed to have fairly showered her Bmiles upon him. Even with small stakes he found himself at midnight the winner of some £150.

Glancing at his visa vis to call attention to the fact that it wos his turn to plaj, he found that gentleman looking at him in a strange manner. Raturning the look, he asked him what was worrying him and exhorted him to go ahead and make his play. The gentleman laid down bis cards, and, rising, said: "I guess I have had enough for this night."

The venerable member from the West looked Burprised, and demanded what was the matter. "I decline to explain." "But you must, Bir," insisted the Western man, getting very red in the face. "Well, sir, since you insist I will explain. This, sir, is my reason for not wishing to play with you." and at the same time he drew from behind the Western man's high collar the jack of hearts.

The feelings of the Western man can better be imagined than described. After an incoherent exclamation he sank back in his chair and actually fainted away.

The matter was finally fixed up, and his opponent refusing to take back the money, the winner gave it to the lady managers of the Christian club as a donation for the newsboys' dinner, taut he took a solemn vow never to touch a card again aa long as he lived.

Of course Bome malicious friend told the story to his wife, and he has not yet got over her remark at her husband's misfortune. Her one comment when the matter is referred to in her presence is: "Served him right."

Jewels In the Hair.

There is a fashion in jewelry lately introduced which the originators regard as quite new and beautiful. It is the setting of fine gems in gold and silver bands to be worn in the hair. These bands are caught in the dark or fair tressee, thus setting off the jewel to great advantage and adding a touch of regal beauty to the wearer's head. But the fashion is by no means new. Some forty or fifty years ago small pinB were made, hardly more than a setting for some choice gem, and caught a fillet of narrow ribbon that ran about the head just below the highpointed coiffure. Again, a fashion very similar, but long past, was the jeweled hair nets thrown over the elaborate pile of puffs and curls.—[New York World.

She May Be a Senator's Wife. "There is more in the parting of Louis. James and Marie Wainright than many think," said Advance Agent Murray the

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other evening. "The person in the background is Henry M. Wolcott, who has just been elected United States senator from Colorado, and I would not be surprised to hear before long that Miss Wainwright has given up the stage to enter Washington society. James anil Wainright have both been married before and neither of their partners are yet under the sod. Mr. Wolcott haB been an intimate friend of Miss Wainwright for a long time, and three years ago when James and his wife left Barrett here in Kansas City it was on assurances from Mr. Wolcott that he would back them in their starring tour.—(Kansas City Globe.

What to Teach Your Daughter. "What shall I teach my daughter?" Teach her that 100 cents make SI. Teach her how to arrange the parlor and library. Teach her to say "no" and mean it, or "yes" and stick to it.

Teach her how to wear a calico dress, and do it like a queen. Teach her how to sew on buttons, darn stockings and mend gloves.

Teach her to dress for comfort and health as well as appearance. Teach her to make her sleeping room the neatest room in the house.

Teach her that tight lacing is uncomely as well as very injurious to the health. Teach her how to cultivate (lowers and make and keep the kitchen garden.

Teach her to regard morals and habits, and not money, in selecting her associates.

Teach her to observe the old rule, "A place for everything and everything in its place."

Teach her the important truism that the more she lives within her income the more she will save, and the farthershe will get away from the poor house.

Teach her that a good, steady, churchgoing mechanic, farmer, clerk or teacher, without a cent is worth more than forty loafers or non-producers in broadcloth.

Huge llosettes on Slippers. Another Paris fashion sure of finding favor with the slender-footed American women is the wearing of huge lace rosettes on slippers. Not the ordinary rosette that is worn from time to time, but the great lace and silk roses of Charles I.'s day. Nothing so emphasizes the petite slenderness of a slippered foot and misleads the eye in the case of a large one. The rosette must be of the same shade as the slipper and set high up over the instep.—|New lork World.

The Coronet Bonnet.

A most curious and startling importation from Paris iB the coronet bonnet. It is nothing more than a rim, on which iB mounted a wreath of handsome flowers, while inside the hair is quite visible. Clusters of moss rosebuds on a coronet of Bpring-green tulle, rows of ox-eyed daisies and wreaths of for-get-me-nots are the most popular combinations as yet.

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Origin of Cravats. ,•

Cravate, which are again coming in vogue for men, owe their name to the Croats soldiers, who went to France in the reign of Louis XIV., and who wore bands of linen about their throats to protect them from the cold.

A Wlfeto Be Proud Of.

Mr. A.—I must compliment you you have a charming wife. Dentist—Have you seen her teeth? Bertha, show him your teeth! I finished them yesterday.—[Epoch.