The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1874-08-13
MY WHITE CHIP HAT.
Now this is a true story.

MY WHITE CH1P Hal.
Now this is true story.
l am not sure that it is very interest
ing or instructive, or brilliant, or spark
ling, or wise, or witty; but it has at least
the merit of being strictly truthful
statement.
1t is only short time ago that it hap
pened. The June roses are now in full
bloom, and the days are fast growing
warm and sultry; yet it seems but yes
terday since the first sweet songs of the
birds, and the violets springing up in the
grass, warned me that spring was ap-
preaching, and with this discovery came
the usual long list of perplexities.
In the first place l was sadly in want
of some money. Not that / was suffer-
ing for the necessities of life. o / had
comfortable home, kind parents, and
much to be thankful for; but my father
was by no means rich, and could give me
but little to spend upon dress, and l
wanted few more dollars so muchl
1t seemed to me the stores were never
before so full of beautiful things, and l
could only look at them longingly and
think how pretty they were and then
turn away with a sigh. There was no
use in wishing for them, and yet 1 knew
/ would look as handsome in one of those
lovely muslins as many another girl, and
that polonaise would show off my figure
to such fine advantage. Perhaps you
will think me vain for thus admitting
my beauty. How can l help knowing |
am pretty? We have looking-glasses in
the house if we are poor; besides, people
are always praising me- Only the other
day almost wished l was homely. ]
think | rather envy very plain girls.
They don't have to keep thinking all the
while how they look, for they know full
well that all the dress in the world would
not make them handsome. Now, if was
rich shouldn't care whether was pretty
or not; and ifI was beautiful / shouldn't
care much how poor l was: but here l
am, neither homely nor exceedingly
handsome, neither rich nor poorl
l think / felt this-this-what would
you callit?-this medium state, more than
ever, last spring. 1t was the first of May,
and l was still wearing my heavy velvet
hat simply because could get no money
to buy new straw. Father could give
me but few dollars for my whole spring
outfit, and there would be none left for a
hat OF course it must come one way
or other, but how? That was the ques-
tion. had seen such lovely white chip,
with pale blue trimming and apple bios
SONS, in a fashionable milliner's window.
/ am perfect blonde, and how could l
help knowing that such hat would be
wonderfully becoming to me? / felt as
though there were Just ten dollars be-
tween me and positive beauty. But it
might as well have been ten thousand
at least Thought SO then-but it turned
out differently.
One afternoon took out my last years
hat and examined it critically. 1t was
very much soiled, and it was no longer
fashionable to cover the hats with trim
ming besides, l had nothing to trim it
with, so | laid it back in the bandbox
and jammed down the cover, and put it
away again on the shelf and then Slam
med the closet door; after which lady
like proceeding descended to thesitting-
room to finish some detestable sewing.
How hate to sewl Mother says l hate
anything that's "work;" and perhaps
she is right. Everything went wrong on
this particular afternoon. / broke my
thread every few minutes, and pricked
my finger until it bled, and finally, after
working industriouslv for more than an
hour, discovered, to my dismay, that 1
had sewed the trimming all the way
around my apron wrong side out!
While l was patiently ripping out my
work, brother VIII came in and threw
himself wearily into a comfortable easy
chair. He was so tired, poor fellow
An editor does not lead the easiest life in
the world; up before six that he might
reach the Office early, writing editorials,
arranging news, looking over innumera-
BILE exchanges, clipping and selecting un-
til dark, and then home to tea with a
large roll of proof to correct in the even
ing. No wonder VIII came in at night
completely tired out; more than eight
hours of brain-work are apt to exhaust
nne,s strength.
l was about folding up my work, it
having grown too dark to sew longer,
when my brother took a card from his
pocket and tossed it into my lap. 1
picked it up eagerly. "Mlle. Octavia
Courcellini," it read, and below the name
was written in a pretty feminine hand,
" presents her best compliments" and
above, Hudson House,
"Oh, WHIP exclaimed delightedly,
did she send it to you?'
Mile. Courcellini was famous prima
donna then in the city.
ffnf oor.rc, - lo ,-o,,1,o1 ,-o,-o L -. =
good notice yesterday, and this morning
she sent up her card"
Are you going to call on her% /
asked.
"No. haven't time"
Il looked at the tiny bit of pasteboard
silently, turned it over and over, and
then an idea flashed into my head! Why
shouldn't | interview Mile. Courcellini,
instead of VIII? Surely / could write
a sketch of her life if she gave me the
facts, and there was no doubt but that
the editor of the Musical Magazine would
be glad to publish such an article, and
pay for it, too. Then for white chip
hat with pale blue trimmingl
"Will," l said timidly, "I wish
could call on Mile. Courcellini instead OF
you"
What for? And he looked some
what surprised.
81 want to write a sketch of her life
for the Musical MagGzine," explained
To my relief he did not laugh, as ex
pected.
Very well" he said, pleasantly, "Tl
write you a note to send up with you
card;" and he turned to the table anC
selected some paper. 1 Istood lookingOut
of the window, and gazed thoughtfully
into the back-yards of my neighbors.
had quite a passion for meeting celebri
ties, and / had never seen a famous sing
er off the stage in ali my life. haC
often wondered how they looked with tn,
naint and nOwder washed off and clad IL