The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1867-01-18
Mrs. Jones, the Authoress.

On one OF our earliest visits To-
the Elusive charm, attached to the ide,
Of a female author became, indeed
changed to horror from which ",
have never fully recovered. We were
requested to escort a lady to what w
understood was an ordinary social gath
ering. After entering small and some
what obscure drawing room, saluted
the hostess and taking the profered
seat, we were struck with the forrna
arrangements Of the company. They
formed an unbroken row along ths
walls Of the room,. except atone end al
which stood table surmounted BY an
astral lamp; and in an armchair beside
| it in studied attitude, like one posed
for a daguerreotype sat woman Of
masculine proportions, coarse features,
and the hair between yellow and red,
which fell in unkempt masses down each
side Of her broad, face. q She was clad
in white muslin Of an antiquated fashion.
We noticed that the guests cast looks,
partly of curiosity, partly of uneasiness,
upon this herculean female, who rolled
her eyes occasionally and smiled on us
all with a kind of complacent pity. e.
We ventured, amidst the silence, TO
ask our nsighbor the name of the gig
sntic unknown. She appeared extre-
mely surprised at the very natural
question. 'Why,' don't you know
We're invited here to meet her, and l
can assure lit is a rare privilege.
That is Mrs j ones, the celebrated au-
thoress of the rsAfianced gOne..' At
this moment brisk little woman in the
corner, with accents slightly ,tremulous,
and a manner intended to be very nom
chalent, broke the uncomfortable hush
of the room. My dear Mrs. Jones,n
said she, "as one of your earliest and
most fervent} admirers, allow me to in
quire if your health does not suffer from
the intense state of feeling in which
you evidently writel" The Amazonion
novelist sighed-It was funny to see
that operation on 50 large scale
and then in voice so Ike. the rougher,
sex that we began to think she was q
man in disguise, she replied: stWhen T
reach the catastrophes Of my stories, il
is not uncommon forsme to faint dead
dead away; and, as l always write in a
room by myself it has happened more
than once that l have been found
stretched, miserable and cold, on the
floor, with pen grasped in my fingers,
and the carpet Uttered with manuscript
blotted with tears!" s'sz ia.a- - 1.,-
The Siddonian pathos of the an
nouncement sent thrill round the cir
Gle, glances of admiration and pity were
thrown upon the self-immolated victim
at the shrine of letters, and other in
quiries were adyentured, which. elicied |
equally impressive replies until the |
physiological throes Of authorship-par-
tieularly in the female gender-assumed
the aspect Of an experience combined
ofepilepsy and nightmare. The tragic |
egotism Of these revelations at length
overcame our patience, and, leaving our
fair companion to another escort, We
slipped from the room.
A thunderstorm had arisen; the rain
was pouring down in torrents; upon
the doorstep we encountered very
pale, thin little man, with an umbrella
under his arm and a pair of oyer-shoes
in his hand. As we passed, he ad-
dressed us in a very meek and fright
ened voice:
"Please; sir, is there party herei"
Yes" s.rss ed -s - .'s-s
"Please, sir, is the celebrated Mrs
Jones herei" sps-ar
ssYesw
"Please sir, do you think l could
'tep into the entry' Pm Mr.. Jones"