Litchfield enquirer., 1873-04-10
flushed and flung it into the library grste

flushed and flung it into the library grate, and then we went down to dinner.
 This was the beginning of grandeur. At breakfast, not many days later, the door bell changed with peal that tore up all the corner echoes in the house ''from tur- ret to foundation" o}
 "Confound it, cried I for what with the sight of the coffee e-urn and Kit seated opposite in her white cashmere wrapper, and the blue ribbon at her throat, and the prettiest cap in the world on her braids; what with the boy between us fresh from his bath, and smelling of clean linen and brown windsor soap, l would have sent away the queen herself, or the president, without a compunction.
 We plainly heard 9 heavy step. Then in walked Grisel and up to my wife with card.
 ''Pen Trotterby, A. M." read Kit, and scowled trifie. Dear, who's he? Who's Pen Trotterby, A. M' 9
 'I haven't the pleasure" I responded from my outlet. ''Grisel, what does he look like ?"
 ''It's me belafe he's temale, sir, said Grisel, impurturbably, and directly, like the tramp of whole regiment on the stairs, came the strange tread, and into the breakfast-room entered the "he- female"
 Mrs. Junkett," with voice deep, but not low, a voice that set Grisel watching the guests stout boots to see if that was where 1t came from; ''Mrs. Junkett, you see before you an emancipated woman"
 'DoI?''
 My wife eyinced a little surprise, and l added:
 "Who would have suspected it?
 Miss Trotterby gave me whitening glance, as though to say, Nobody told you you might speak, '" and proceeded:
 "Yes, I'm an emancipated woman Do I studied Latin. soould study it, in pressed French and music upon me. Let me tell you the derivation of that word. i" Miss Pen Trotterby, A. M., was march ing up and down. She wore a nonde- script dress of black serge. Her figure was gaunt and lean. From it's outlines you might have demonstrated any propo- sition in geometry made up of straight lines and sharp angles Sue stopped now, one hand on her hip, the other menacing tke coffee urn as she elucidated thus:
 "E-man-cipate. From c, Latin parti- cle, meaning out of, and capere, to take, id est, to take ont of the power of man. Enaan cipate v .s..... -.
 Kitty glinted her eyes across the table at this tumble of Latin and Saxon, then civilly invited her guest to breakfast with us.
 Breakfast! no ma'am, I've breakfasted on bean-porridge, My food costs me 25 cents per week, a'am. You are eating and drinking poison. Poison! You are i'll slavery as to dress. Corsets, tight lac ing, Look at me P and she stretched out her two lean arms, and stood there in our dining-room like guide-post gone into mourning. "Mrs. Junkett, I've not q minute to spare. The world is big with portents, and have mission, and I'm composing sea and land to perform it. I am now on the wing for Pennsylvania. I lecture tomorrow evening in Pith-o-lew (We found out afterwards that Miss Pen Trotterby lectured at Pit-h0le). "I've come to rouse you. You're representa- tive female, and you are q slave. You're the blackness of darkness of the middle ages and the Mstsslenaen's se-r0g-ho, and there's no hope for you to redeem. your self from your worse than bar-b1rSous slavery, unless you come out and proclaim your independence.
 s'One word, Mr. Junkett, to you! You're a man, you're brother. The day of small things we don't despise. You way, in your way. render assistance to the cause if you will. Here is my book-the great book of the age-confessedly so. I Scorn duplicity, will be true to myself and my inspirations. A dollar and . half. We are on the brink of revolution. The spir- 1t of the maid of Arc, Jo-ann d'Orleans, is upon me, and I'm of. Enaancipate yourself, Mrs. Junket!" and forthwith she strode away, mounting her horse at the door i'll manner worthy of an "eman- cipated woman," and successor of the ''maid of Arc" but which staggered Gris- el somewhat in her baiafc that She was Q female"
 After Miss Trotterby, came Mir. Lori- mer, the famous publisher, with a request that my wife would write an arti- cle for his new magazine. In vain Kit ty protested that writing was her destest. ation, she would make her mark in pref erence to afixing her own sign manual, any hour. Still that man persisted. They needed her name to give prestige to the thing. Would she not send them little essay on oi-painting, on Raphael, on Mil laio, or on RuslAp? ''I could better write on baby's aprons" said my wife. 'Very well, baby's aprons be 1t, then," quoth Lorimer, with enthusiasm. Anything to obtain your name, " and he went away.
 Volumes would not contain the record of experiences that year. I'd as soon try to give synopsis of the moral law. My wife was besieged to execute every style of artistic work, from the painting of an iceberg, which she never saw, to the de- picting of Mrs. Train-Allston Grain Oil ston, Grisel called herl, her two children, and her two times two chins, in the char acter of Cornela, the mother of the Grac- chi. This last picture, as everybody re- members, was painted. Mrs. Train-All- ston presented my wife with a testimonial about that time. It was on exhibition nt Blarney's for six weeks. It was this:
 4 clock, after the antique. Cupid and Psyche, like the traditional lion and uni corn clasping hands over the clocks face. Cupid was habited after the manner of gods on the Olympian terraces, in aouris 1aatara1i6us, and Psyche, in concession to modern prejudices, wore a short gown and petticoat, while her wings, to the rav ishment of all beholders, grew out of the rear-seams of the former garment. Cupid had a heart-rending expression of conn- tenance, suppose because art had been less benefcent to him than to his love in the dry goods line. proposed to Kitty that she should compose for Cupid also a '.pett1coat and cooler of pink cambric, but my suggestion was perefnptorily sup pressed by my spouse as being ''unartis- tic" was getting to dread that word.
 You may suspect that all these burden some hono.s were beginning to break up our home quiet. A woman isn't famous woman, nor is her husband the husband of famous woman, all for naught. The dear public doesn't sell it's patronage for nothing. Not an hour of the day but some unit of the vast aggregate revealed his or her personality to us.
 Now 1t was the matron of founding asylum who wished small painting for the coming fair; then growth of aitenu- ated legs and an eruptive skin modestly begging Mrs. Junkett to read a MS. poem, write preface for the forthcoming vol une. receive it's dedication and Duff the