The Northern Pacific farmer., 1883-09-13

exclaim: 20 my! how expensive!" Mrs.
Fungus did not like saint; but there
was no real harm in her. She never
walked abroad; sho never drove; she
never read; she never was seen with q
needle. She passed the morning on the
piazza the afternoon and evening in the
public parlor, talking loud, if she had
anyone to talk to, and otherwise con-
tentedly taking exercise in a rocking.
chair. The last thing she thought of was
the children. The late Mr.. Fungus had
left her several pledges of affection ,and
she left them entirely to Sarah, who in
turn generally left them alone, though
sometimes-upon what occult principle
the boarders never could discover-she
shook them. Thus it happened that the
children of Mrs. Fungus bee me the ty-
rants OF the establishment. They played
horse in the corridors. Thsy jumped in
the parlor. They put the piano out of
tune, and ldis]ocated the sofa springs,
and broke the croQuet mallets.
They stripped lthe fower-borders, and
were terror to all domestic animals
They rushed to the dining-room as soon
as the doors were open, gave extensive
orders, scrambled for the dessert, filled
the neighboring guests with disgust, and
drove the walters to desperation. The
complaints of their noise and their tres
passes were the chief worry of the clerk
but there was no remedy short Of ex
pelling the family. It never entered
the head of Mrs. Fungus that for their
own sake the children ought to be taught
a respect for the rights Of others. or that
they had anything to gain by acquiring
self-control.
Mrs. Fungus will be recognized by
every visitor at Saratoga, at Long Branch,
at the White Mountains, at the Virginia
Springs, at all the fashionable resorts of
the United States; for she pervades all
sections, and she fourishes in the de-
velopmeut of a series of types evolved
from rude social origin, and tending
toward complex product not yet clear
ly discerned. She is only a little re-
moved from the primitive and labori-
GUS ignoSamus; changed conditions of
existence have affected her imperfectly; !;
she has dropped old habits, and has not
yet learned the new ones appropriate
to her new environment. In the next
generation we shall observe marked ad-
vance. The children who are now the niu-
sance of hotel corridors will be the swells
ofthe billiard room and the bellies of the
piazza, Young Fungus will never be a
gentleman, but he will early assume to
be connoisseur in coats, cigars, saddle
horses, and lawn-tennis. He will haunt
hotels as closely as his mother, for what
other home than hotel has he ever
known?--and there he will breakfast
late, and call the barkeeper by his first
name, and take leading and dogmatic
part in the extraordinary vapid, copious,
md 1nff sYy1,s Se%
be heard only in the office of hotels and
livery stables. He will be only a fop
and fool. with no thought but his own
amusement; whether he will be any,
thing else will depend upon the freaks
of fortune-especialy his luck in bus
mess and his luck in marriage. He will
never he an interesting fellow. His sis
ter will at least be an object of attraction.
From a troublesome and over.dressed
child, she will grow into a pert miss,
with a profound dis1espect for her
mother, and saucy answer for strange
gentlemen who try to amuse themselves
with her. She will quickly catch
the accent and manner of a
class much better educated than her
own, she will learn, before she has put
on long dresses, that diamonds at break
fast are in bad style; at fourteen she
will be remarked for the elegance of her
costumes; at fifteen she will have car
ried self-culture to the point of reading
novels in ''The Seaside Library" and,
under favoring circumstances, she may
even 60 so far as the lighter publications
of the "Franklin Square Series" After
brief transition period of giggling fir
tations with boys, she will suddenly ap-
pear at the su inner hotel as an expert
enced young lady, and will take her
place naturally in the category of piazza 4
girls. Like the rest ofthose companion
able virgins, her object in life will be to-
have good time. A good time implies,
young man, with whom she will always
parlor windows, whispered tete-a- tete
in dark corner, moonlight ride, an
unreasonable row on the lake, or a.
pound of French candy IN the recesses
of thicket. As for Mrs. Fungus. she,
poor woman, will have gone off sadly
when these nights of heartlessness:
and futile dalliance arrive; stray.
bachelors and commercial travellers will
no longer find her "gay" her voice will!
be harsher, but her laugh will be rare,
and there will be marks of trouble on
her face. Her children will despise her
acquaintances, and be careful not to pre-
sent to her their own. She will know
little or nothing of her sons pursuits
She will wait alone on the piazza till
midnight, while her daughter is out with
q gentleman whose name she has never
heard; and when the truant pair appear,
the cavalier will not notice the old lady,
and the girl will offer no remark. What
will the girl be like in mature life? Will
she bring up children after the pattern
of herself, and teach them as she was
aught, that they are no domestic duties
Tor either old young? The civilization
which has evolved in order the hotel
mother and the piazza girl is too new to
show in the next stage of Development;
but it ought to be something remarkable.
IN. Y. Tribune.