The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-10-24
Gossip
About Men and Women.

Some of the Cheyenne merchants are think
ing of employing girls for collectors, giving as
a reason therefor that when the girls present
their little bills no man can refuse.
Mr.. Parnell, the Irish member OF Parlia-
ment who has been ''rousing the British lion"
with fiery speech, is the last man in the world,
one would think in lookingat him, to become
excited or stir others to excitement. He is a
placid, fair-haired person, with quiet and SIM
pie manners, and an unimposing carriage.
He comes from an excellent old family, and is
thoroughly well-educated man.
A loyal son of Boston has been gathered to
his fathers. Every morning for seventy odd
years he has walked around the Common be-
fore breakfast, no matter what the weather
was He breakfasted on oatmeal and was in
ordinately fond of mince pie So intense was
his antpathy to strangers who were not Of the
real Boston breed that whenever he deserted
one standing on his doorsteps he would stand
and wait in silence until the Philistine went
away, and then would dart indoors himself as
though fleeing from a breath of pestilence.
A painter Of celebrity in Paris, when his
first wife-he is now married to another-was
sick unto death, was informed by her of her
great fear of being buried alive, and thereupon
when he thought her dead. He, however.
failed to recollect it. Some months after he
| was dining with friend and paying court to
the lady he wished to make successor to the
| deceased one. Out of q brown study he sud-
| denly exclaimed "By Jove, 1 forgot to cut
| my wife's throat" 1t needed long explana-
| tions
A neat little charcoal sketch appears in the
columns of q st. Louis Journal. AS justice
of tI,o ccitt in lie
off the end of the second cigar, man covered
with charcoal CRIME tumbled over the chair
nearest the door and asked how much it would
cost to be married. The price was too high.
The poor but honest bridegroom said that he
lived in Jefferson County, that he and his in
tended had come to the city peddling charcoal
and wanted to 90 back as man and wife, A bar
rel of charcoal was still on hand, and this was
offered as the marriage fee. The kind-hearted
Justice concluded that it would be good thing
to make them man and wife, and the barrel of
charcoal was pumped into the cellar according
to agreement
| Mrs. Georgina Weldon, the 'heroine" of the
composer Gounod, is lecturing in England.
| In commencing her first lecture she said: II
am some years past forty, and though my ap-
pearance is youthful you may trust my years
as well as my discretion. 1 am not a young,
/
making herself look conspicuous, but middle
aged, sober, well-nigh heart-sick woman work
| ing for many years in the cause of education;
| and you may believe never cared for admira-
ton or society. / did not feel true and could
not feel natural in an atmosphere reeking
with every kind of luxury. did not take to
crinolines when they were in fashion; | dis
liked long dresses and very full skirts; L did
not likeihigh heels to my shoes or boots; L
laair cIn I indu load in NOR,
liked to go to bed and get up early. These
are all unusual tasks for lady and therefore
l was always considered odd"
Mr. Hawthorne once wrote pleasant letter
introducing I'll. D. Thoreau to Mr. Epes Sar-
gent and Mr.. Sargent has just communicated
this letter to Harper's Weekly. "There is a
gentleman in the town of the name Of Tho
reau," says Hawthorne, ga graduate of Cam
bridge, and fine scholar especially in old
English literature but withal wild, irregular.
Indian-like sort of fellow who can find no oc-
cupation in life that suits him. He writes, and
sometimes-often, for aught know-very well
indeed. In the Dial for July there is
an article on the natural history of this part of
the country, which will give you an idea of
him as genuine and exquisite observer OF ma
ture-a character almost as rare ,as that of q
true poet. He writes poetry also-for instance,
TO the Maiden in the East The Summer
Rain,' and other pieces in the Dial for Octo-
ber, which seem TO be very careless and imper-
feet, but as true as bird notes"
Madame Taglon, since the loss of her for
tune, teaches dancing and department to few
fortunate English girls. Married in 1884, says
| The London World, to the Count Gilbert de
voisins she has children living; one celebrated
for her beauty, the Princess Marie Troubetz-
koy; another, distinguished soldier in the
French army; but the courageous artist pre-
fers her independent home in England to the
hospitality of any relatives, however near ard
dear. 1t is no secret that the life outwardly
so brilliant was full of bitterness within, and
that the airy Sylphide often, after doffing her
wings, returned to an unhappy home. Would
like to live my life over again?'' she will say.
''To dance, yes for everything else, thousand
time, mol In art there are always consultations.
You see that drawing by Chalon of the "Tyroli-
enne in Guillaume Tell. Rossini composed
the music expressly for me, at my own piano,
in my own house, while looked on and lis
tened and wondered. That is a recollection
which effaces years of sadness. Tagioni is
now seventy years old, but still graceful and
elegant in manner. She preserves her bright,
hopeful glance, and talks with charming freSli-
| ness and enthusiasm.
Herr Richard Wagner is person terrifying
| to the librettist. Roche's description of day
paSSeu Will tllo COilpoSer, inc lorHier udmlnel-
ing out the words, the latter the music, is verv
entertaining Wagner arrived at o'clock,
and they worked without respite until midday.
Roche bent over his desk writing and erasing;
Wagner strobe to and fro, bright Of eye, vehe
ment of gesture, shouting, singing, striking the
piano, and constantly bidding poor Roche go
on! Go on!" An hour or two after noon Roche,
hungry and exhausted let fall his pen, almost
fainting. "Whats the NATTER" asked the
composer. 81 am hungry" 'True. [ had
forgotten about that; let us have hurried
snack and go on again" Night came and
| found them still at work. 81 was shattered,
| stupefed," said Roche. "My head burned,
my temples throbbed. I was half mad with
my wild search after strange words to fit the
strange music. He was erect still, vigorous
| and fresh as when we commenced our task,
walking up and down, striking his internal
| piano, terrifying me at last, as | perceived
| dancing about me on every side his eccentric
| shadow cast by the fantastic reflections CT the
lamp, and crying to me ever Go on! Go onp
while trumpeting in my ears cabalistic words
and supernatural muSici'