Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1880-11-13
STREET AND STAGE.
STROLL ON MONTGOMERY STREET
AND WHAT WAS SEEN.
why Women Look Into Certain windows
An Afternoon ConcertEow
to"Make Eyes"-Etc.

70 " MAKE 6yeS'-EGc.
SAN Francisco, November 10, 1880.
There are days when nothing seems to
happen, and yet wien You look back at
them everything seems to have happened
lazy days, when you stroll about scarce
caring your direction, when people glide
by and events occur as in wide-awake
dream, and you look idly as out from
daze at it all. Sir, the tongue says,
and madam, yes or no, and the sound
appears to come from over yonder some.
where mile away. Taking myself by the
hand have been about town lately, and
yet all the time | half questioned if | were
about at all, instead OF lying on lounge
in sunny room, seeing In a tangle of
dreams these every. day things which
and iolity as seen through my strained
eyes. 1t was on Wednesday afternoon
and l turned into Montgomery street. The
Masonic Temple with it's statue Of the
homeless woman and child, the Tucker
clock, the Hibernian Bank, street cars,
lines of people, gamin at my side. thrust
ing matches, pocket combs, neckties and
pins at me, and flower man at the left,
cross and specialized, but dumb as to the
pretty secrets of his trade-it all looked
like one of Toby Rosenthafs many figured
paintings. A book store seemed to
shadow forth in bright array liter
AZURE dimly tempting in ghostly covers.
"An Earnest Triher," read one, and it
seemed / had heard somewhere of young
girl who had written it and sent it forth
only in after. establishment to find the peo-
pie high in her temple of the gods reading
it, admiring it. wondering who could have
written it, and so finally taking her by the
hand and lifting her up as one of them.
"a Fools Errand" and GO Bricks With
out Straw jostled marvellous tales written
by our Walter Scott, and good. humored
Mr. Pickwick, jolly as having just lunched,
smiled broadly from steel engraving.
JUST OPPOSITE,
A large frame of photographs exhibited
pretty women with chins in draperies of
lace or looking over bare shoulders, and
prettier men in high state of toilet. Far
ther along long plate glass windows exhib-
tied reading rooms of hotels, with boarders
challenging attention in tipped up chairs,
their heels on level with their heads. A
great, puffy, fiabby man came by, looking
like porpoise, and behind him neat and
dandy little woman, with looping of cable
cord on her dress wonder idly if they
dream they see me, too. | notice every
woman chances in the windows of mems
furnishing goods. Do you guess why :?
Because the dark cloths behind the plate
glass combine to form a very fair mirror,
and any woman can catch an idea of
her own style in general and her effect.
upon the strange eye by this, as it were,
window view. The current seemed to set
hurriedly further on, and when l reached
Platt's Hall, | was caught by circling
eddy of skirts and drawn in. A man
looked out of a little square window in a
box-otfice, and his eye said, persuasively,
g -Four bits, you know but you can have
a box for Sc" In the same language l
said l wouldn't have box, and en-
tered. Somebody thrust me a programme,
and messenger boy in white cotton gloves,
which were meant for style-a mile too
big-wafted me toward chair. The i'm.
passible woman, who always trips the light
dance upon air in theater scenes was pres
ent, with Tyre in her hand, and what
seemed like an immense brass band FILLED
the stage. | said to myself it must be
AN AFTERNOON CONCERT.
Portraits of List and Wagner, by kunath,
filed the proscenium boxes, and fiddle
bows rose ike young forest and
queer curled brass instruments rose
and shone behind the footlights. Two
elegantly dressed ladies, with diamonds,
talked German at my right, and had the
same tongue whispering in gutturals before
and behind. l spoke to the lady on my
left, and she could speak nothing but Ger
man. How strange to know only strange
languages, and l wondered if perhaps we
didn't all think in the same. However, |
offered my neighbor my opera glass IN En-
glish, but think she looked through it in
German, for she seemed very foreign in-
deed. How clumsy and out the-world
those people look who come to us out of
the other continent, although they have
lived so much nearer the altar of fashion
than we. But watch them and see how
sprightly and graceful and stylish and trim
they become as they grow gradually Amer.
icanized. ! saw twenty music teachers, all
foreigners, at that matinee, and the hand
some but vain old gentleman whom saw at
the carnival flirting with six Tintern Abbey
girls, two at time. A handsome old man
can be twice as wicked as younger one
who has neither gray hairs nor experience.
About half past a great many school
teachers came dropping in. a lovely young
girl with blue ribbons and eyes to match
sat with her head little dropped listen
ing half to the music and half to the gsn-
tleman by her side. She seemed to find
both pleasant. Her hair was brown, and
done in braids looped in two at the back,
with one braid across, aud a gold dagger
thrust through. 1t was smooth, natural
and glossy, and not many women now
adays have glossy hair. 1t is usually
roughened and made harsh, uneven,
and perhaps coarse by the severe regimen
it undergoes. My programme said Beeth
oven, Wagner, Meyerbeer, Wieniawski
and Saint Saens, and [ dreamily
rose to the occasion. I wondered
il the half hundred musicians play
ing that grand march time as if they
were inspired and had their souls in the
clouds, ever descended to sausage with
garlic and beer. In the mean time
EVERY FIDDLE BOW
Came down and went up together beauti-
fully, and by and by that young genius,
Leopold Lichtenberg, came out. lie had
great shock of hair, cut a la musician,
and he was somewhat awkward, but his
bow went over his violin strings just SO
softly and easily it made you think of
young girl dancing in silken shoes, and all
the men back of him who had seemed in
spired a moment before watched his man.
ner so eagerly, and never took their eyes
from his right hand. By and by there was
grand poeme symphonique, whatever
that IS, but it was grand, with such rush
of harmony now and then as made the
nearer forget for moment all else. Isn't
that what genius is ITO be able to trans.
port the bearer, the reader or the looker-on
beyond himself? By and by we all went
o,,E eIoxyIxy ond hxr some noaus uDaccOunt.