Kimball enterprise. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1883, 1883-08-03
THE PRINCES rAyoRlTE.
The Coming British Belle Who is to
OutshaGlow all Others.

THE PRINCES FAVORlTE.
The Coming British Belle Who is to
Outshadow all Others.
A letter about the Ascot races in Eng
land, in the San Francisco Argonaut,
contains the following:
Besides well-known faces, there were
those of some new aspirants to "beautr,'"
fame, who attracted much attention.
Among them Mrs. Francis Barring, Lady
Isabella Phuster's daughter, tall, dark,
strapping young woman of nineteen,
much in the style ofthe Gypsy Gladys"
sven to her prou ii. ;1;ens ;st nose and man
nish stride; Lady Edith Curzon; Lady
Hermione Duncombe, Miss Lane Fox,
and Mrs. George Powell Though I
have put Mrs. PowelPs name last, she
should really rank first, for l predict
that she is the coming beauty who is to
outshadow all the others. Unquestion-
ably, she was the most admired, and
Miss Chamberlaine's already declining
star sank several more degrees below its
former zenith. But four-and-twenty,
tall, slight, with black hair and eyes,
marble-white complexion and bright
scarlet lips, she is a perfect type Of the
style of the beauty which "fashion" has
lately decreed, shall in future be the
fashion. Add to that chssically chiseled
features, the whitest teeth. a willowy
figure, a small, rounded waist, hands
that take five and half in gloves, and
feet that wear one and a half in boots,
and what more can you want? Her
dress was short costume of embroider-
pH W coy, hric cyoon hInD}- ctr
bonnet trimmed with Write flowers, and
black stockings with white dots. No
body spoke to seemed to know much
about her, till l meta friend in the Rifle
Brigade who had come down on the
regimental coach of the Blues. She was
Miss Walsh, before she married, he
told me, and her father clergyman,
who for some years was the depot chap
lain of his battalion at Winchester.
AS she is destined to occupy prom
inent place in the gallery of English
beauties, a few other things he told me
about her may be of interest to repeat in
a general way. Five years ago when but
nineteen, she married Captain Powell,
retired army officer of sixty, whose in
come, from well-invested funds left him
by an aunt; and pretty country place
down near Southampton, made ample
amends for the disparity of ages. Prior
to her marriage, her beauty, handicap
ped by economical dressing and provin-
cial l-made clothes, failed to attract the
notice it deserved. But once she got
command of the ancient captains check
book, Redfern's tailor.made gowns, cos
tunes from Worth and Pingat, bonnets
from Errington's and boots from the
Burlington Arcade, soon wrought such
change that she began to gain attention
in the surrounding country. But at last
she tired of dazzling the eyes Of the very
young and equally old army and naval Of
fcers she met at dock-yard and garrison
balls at Portsmouth and Winches-
ter, to which her aged husband
occasionally took her. She had grown
to have higher aspirations than the cal
low admiration and gouty devotion of
beardless subalterns and hobbling ad-
mirals. So this year she persuaded her
husband to take her up to London for
the season, and, have her presented.
At the second drawing room, in Worth
made white satin court-dress, which fit
ted her like glove, she made her ap-
pearance.. That she caught the Prince
OF Wales's eye at once goes without say
ing; and an invitation to the first state
ball at Buckingham palace, and cards of
admission from MIR. Ponsonby- Fame, the
Deputy Lord Chamberlain, to the royal
enclosure at Ascot, seem but natural Sc
quence. 81 wasn't at the ball myself"
added my friend: but l am told the
way Wales went for her valses was on
ly equaled by-Just look over there
only equaled by that, I should say"
Following his nod and eye, l looked
over to where Mrs. PowelEs unhorsed
victoria was in position. Standing by
its side was the Prince of Wales, bend
ing over the door in earnest conversa-
ZION. Then he opened the door, and,
helping Mrs. Powell out, the two saun-
tered slowly across the lawn together,
With might almost say-the eyes Of
Europe upon them. AS my friend and
passed on together, in quest of some
champagne-cup in the Guards Club tent,
my eyes fell on two women's faces. One
was that of the Princess of Wales, and
the other Miss Chamberlaine's. The
Princess was talking smilingly to Lord
Charles Beresford and the Honorable
Oliver Montague, but there was an ex-
preston in her eye that told me she
wished she wasn't the Princess of Wales
just then. AS for Miss Chamberlaine,
there was an overdone vivacity in her
manners as she conversed with three or
four titled young heiress-hunters in
green wells anh white spats, aud despite
her assumed look Of her mouth, and the
verdant-hued glitter in her eyes, as they
flashed side-glance at the promenading
couple, told what her real feelings were.