The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1882-06-23
Kissing a Poet.


Victor Hugo. He receives every Sunday
evening, and always has a dozen or more'
of his friends to dinner with him. we
knew that the regulation way to do was 70
write to the poets secretary, asking per-
mission to come to pay our respects 70
the old gentleman. But we had neglected
to do that, and some of us were on the
point of leaving Paris as we wrote our
names on a card with the magic word
Chicago" thereupon, and wended our
way to the Avenue Victor Hugo. We
were shown into the parlor, a pleasant
room In cream and crimson, with tapestry
hung walls, a Venetian chandelier, an
odd old clock, and few choice bronzes
here and there. Two visitors were wait
ing for dinner to finish, although it was
already nine o'clock BY and by the old
poet and his friends came in. He is
much more gentle-lool1ing than-his-- pie
lures represent him to be. There is a
certain ruggedness, almost coarseness,
apparent in all lkenesses of him. This
is not natural The benign old face
with its crown of white hair is singularly
tender and lovely. His secretary pre-
sented us Americans who wished to
salute the poet.
The gentleman of our party shook
hands, said aud received a few pleasant
words, and then our turn came
Little Edith, tiny maid of eight
years, held up her little hand
:" At her age she. may have an en-
brace, said the secretary, and the old
poet kissed her upon her forehead, Civ
ing her his blessing. Then a very much
excited young girl standing by cried as
she saw that embrace, 90, am / too
large to be kissed by the poet?"
'Y Yes, yes, mademoiselle, cried the
secretary, but the lovely old poet said,
= No, no, dear child Then he took
the excited young girl in his arms and
gave her two good kisses, at which she
was highly delighted, and said, half
laughing, half crying, ''I thank You a
thousand times 1 shall remember this
honor forever"
And the poet said, with his haud on
his heart, "No. ne; it is l who must
thank you, and it is l who shall not
forget"
And then everybody cried out, =" Oh
how charming, how charming And
the excited young girl retired In confu-
sion behind Edith's mother, who received
another embrace from the kind old man,
and then the Chicagoans managed to get
out someway, and stood on the street
corner talking altogether in highly in
coherent manner for fully ten minutes
before they remembered that it was ten
o'clock and quite time to go home like
ordinary mortals, who had not been to
make a visit to Victor Hugo Paris
Correspondence Chicago Inter ocean.
Going to Bed in Japan.
Going to bed IN Japan is rather an in
l-Gs
toned to sleep between sheets and
blankets and on snowy pillows In fact,
YOU do not "go" to bed at all, but the
bed, such as it is. simply comes to
you; and the style of preparing for the
night is about the same wherever you
go. First, a cotton stuffed mat is laid
| anywhere upon the floor, and block or
roll is placed at one end to rest CD your
head upon Then you lie down, and a
cotton stuffed quilt is thrown over you.
This quilt is like Jap dress on big
scale, with large and heavily stuffed
sleeves, which flap over like wings
But the difficulty is that these capacious
sleeves, with all the rest of the bedding,
contain unnumbered legions of voracious
fieas hid away in recesses known only to
themselves, but which only wait till you
get fairly nestled in sleep, when they
begin their onslaught on their defense
less and helpless victims. Awakened by
the merciless havoc they are making
upon you, 1t is in vain that you roll and
toss and shake your clothes till you are
wearied out That only increases the
vigor with which they renew the battle,
and you may spend hours in the faint
glare of the primitive oil lantern, which
is set in one corner of the room, and
strive to rid yourself of the tiny tigers
that are devouring you; it is all to no
purpose, and you sink down at last
asleep. But you are soon awakened
again, only to undergo the same tribula-
ton, and the hours of the night pass
away as you pace up and down the mar
row limits of the room listening to the
snoring of the dozen or more of the
tough hided sleepers who surround you.
and peep through the sliding shutters of
the house to see if the day is breaking or
not. You cannot lie down again-for
the floor is crawling with the creatures
you dread-and you cannot sit down,
for there is nothing to SIT upon, and
such thing as chair was never heard
of in that region.