The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1877-08-30
The Incident That Caused a Poem.

In the drawing room of a large Lon
don house sits a young lady. She has a
pretty, ~piquante face, but the most
striking of her charms is a prOfusion of
fair hair, two or three ringlets of which,
according to the fashion of the day,
hang down her back. She is doing her
best to be interested in a garden of silken
flowers which she is creating on her
embroidery frame. Every now and
then, however, her rosy mouth is dis
torted by what Is very like a suppressed
yawn. Little wonder that she finds it
dull. 1t is "A rainy afternoon, and she
cannot go out; for as yet not wen a fore.
shadOwing Of such a garment as a lady's
waterproof has appeared in the land.
She has no fancy for reading, because
it is not a thing that is often done by a
young gentlewOman, and this embroid-
cry grows somewhat weary work when
one sits over it from breakfast to dinner
and from dinner to supper. B~y-and-by,
a tall, well-huilt, manly figure comes
down the street past the window.
There is life enough in the young lady's
eyes now, and her cheeks are redder
than the silk in her work-basket. An
instant after, a young man with a free,
bold, joyous air is bowling over her hand.
He sits down beside her, and a volley
of lively talk begins between them.
Compliments come from his lips as
quickly as eggs from a c%onjurer's bag,
but they wrangle a little, too. After
Il while the young gcntlemen's eyes
begin to fix themselves more upon the
lady's hair tllan upon her face, but she
goes on chatting merrily and does not
notice this. A pair of scissors are lying
on her workable; he takes them up
and plays with them, as it seems to her.
carelessly. He o almost impercepti-
bly, slides his chair a little behind hers.
The movement is so slight and gradual
that she does not observe it. She is
bending again over her work, picking
out one or two false stitches, and is not
looking at him. Talking all the while
more busily than ever, and with sweeter
words upon his lips than ever before,
he raises the scissors which he still
holds in his hand as if he meant to use
them somewhere in good earnest, and
as he does so a mischievous smile twink
les for Il moment round his mouth. Do
we see rightly? Yes; slowly, stealthily,
the scissors are advancing toward, a
bright devoted lock, and an instant
after, the prize is severed from the little
head, and waves triumphantly in his
grasp. What words can tell the shrill-
ness of her scream9 What colors paint
the wrath in her eyesY lie makes his
way as quickly as he can out of the
house, but next day he comes to try to
make peace. There Is no more peace,
however, between Lord Petre and
Arabella Fermor, or between the most
petriied maiden aunts and distant
country cousins on either side. The
two families will never speak to each
other again. On this incident in real
life Pope founded "The Rape of the
Lock. Its mixture of delicate fairy
work with common life--of good hui
mOred satire with that wholesome
teaching which is embodied in Elans"
sa's speech, made the poem at once leap
into public favor. 1t went through
three editions. This may seem a small
success to our modern ideas, but it wa
u great one in that day.-ArYoSy.