The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-04-12
THE INVISIBLE.


| Three times within year and half had that
| mysterious creature eluded me The first time,
l expressed polite regrets; the second, I called
her the lost Pleiad out Of that constellation of
seven; the third time, 1 determined to see her if
| 1 had to intrench myself for the winter in Col
| legetown.
| They were fascinating bunch of seven girls,
their fathers scholarly head towering from the
! midst of them Kate to be sure, was married,
and lived in South Bend, but she was always
counted in. Through Kate partly discovered
the rest of the constellation, for 1 was South
Bender, the literary son of a banker, and guilty
of enthusiastic pilgrimages to the shrine of ma
| tive talent Men east and west of US cannot I'M
derstand the extreme joy Hoosier feels in what
ever excellent thing his State produces. We
| have been rdiculed our honest pride has been
| called gush. But an Indiana man will miss this
| fostering warmth everywhere else on the face of
| the earth. | know-for have seen-that there
| is no such haze on the Bay of Naples as the blue
| light over the Wabash. Last year sat on one
of the Pyramids, and shut my eyes to call up
papaw groves and the blotched marble trunks
of sycamores. Right beside me stood young
Connecticut man, who happened to be humming
Paddle Your Own Canoe, and it eased my soul
| to brag to him of the pilgrimage 1 once made TO
| the lovely old author of it, under her native In
| diana beeches told him about Ben Parker,
moreover, whose heart flowed out in poetry dark
year after dark year, so that he appeared to me
like a lightning blasted tree all covered
with honeysuckle We have sweet great people
| in our State, and cherish their home perfume.
L came to Collegetown first to find for myself
some of these people, and in their set were the
| Carew girls, to whose acquaintance Mrs. Kate
paved my way Some of them met at recep-
| tlon and think they inclined to pass
| over as too sensitive, too womanish man. But
| Immediately afterward / had to make speech
| at soldiers reunion, and l used all my thun
| ders directly at the Carew girls. From calling
| on them with an elderly friend, was promoted
| to stopping at the house as guest of their
father. That fine old gentleman and talked
| classic sentences while 1 thought about the
girls. They all attracted me, even the youngest,
| whose mother had died at her birth, eight years
| before.
From ceiling to floor and from the temple-like
| parlor, into which you opened the front door, to
uneXplored regions of its one-story spread their
| house was lined with books. They had not
| fury for culture but they seemed embodiments
| of high thinking, and their manner of living put
| a premium on poverty. | despised my fathers
| solid mansion when / compared it with the old
! cottage, which had been picturesque and venera-
BILE before any OF the Carew girls was born IN 1T.
| The whole lower part of one gable was a window
containing more than hundred little panes of
| glass. In other places there were sashes lying
| On ulelf SlueS, 10 De opened by hinges, ana you
went down two steps into the dining room, and
| crossed yard-wide threshold between parfor and
| study. Cupboards offered shining knobs from
| every wall, and there was dimple sort of nook
| here and there where you could bestow yourself
| to read without having people run against your
! feet They had rare old engravings which their
student father had picked up, and old books, and
ancient silver-thin and slight in spoons and
| dumpy and queery chased in table service.
| Many books could be written about Miss Ca
| rev alone, for you never exhausted her ndividu
| atty. She was a swift wholesome incisive
woman, and edited the principal newspaper in
| COllegetOwn. Her very feminine hands could
pack Valise at the shortest notice for journey
/ after interesting materials, and she told me she
considered herself going to school to learn jour
| naism, and she grudged no pains that would
| give her a hold the general public.
| Besides her newspaper Office she had
| q den in house not far from her
| home, where she could study alone, and where
| the treasures accumulated by her talents smiled
around her. Many an evening she burned the
oil of the night laborer there over her manu-
! script but many another evening the girls with
some guests made the den hilarious. Her table,
| rug, and chairs, her waste-basket and curtains
! the dogwood flowers she had painted around the
! crate, and the frieze of silhouettes she found
| time to set beneath the ceiling, were all extern
| sions and expressions of herself. Miss Carew
| never was called anything but Mary Honor by
| her family and set. While | had not the hardi-
| hood to address her so, always bestowed her
| title on the second sister, Miss Clara who
| taught in the public schools, and looked as if
| she were made for laughter. All the curves of
| her face turned upward, and she talked frank
| epigrams. Then there were Psyche,
| who had Grecian head and
fell into unconscious beautiful poses, and Bess.
| who dotted on music, and was in a culver of
| bashful pleasure when she took her seat before
| you at the piano. These two, with the eight
| yearold sister were school girls. They were
| always consulting together and making
| group with their arms around each other and
1 y HING wifi flNar,
| teresting people who came and went at their
| house. Well did l know and enjoy the com
| panionship of six Carews, but there remained
| seventh, completely invisible. The order of her
| birth had been between the goddess of laughter
| and the Greek profile l reckoned her age at
about seventeen.
you'll not see Leda" said Mary Honor
briskly and frankly, the first time / sat at their
! table. shes recluse and never shows her
| self"
"She does the cooking" Bess explained And
| in my passing thought pictured Leda as some
elderly step sister, grown stoica among the pots
| and kettles. But there certainly was no drudg-
| cry about that house. 1t must have been a de-
/ light to prepare such dishes as you found at the
| Carews's, and the table linen and well preserved
| lowered ware are even now a retrospective de-
| light to my senses.
| 'Leda was my pupil in housekeeping at first
| because she was younger than L. said Miss
| Clara; but in my old age turn to her for in
| struction"
| L then decided that Leda must be deformed
| or scantily supplied with those gifts which the
| others had in abundance. And afterward, while
talking with friend of theirs, L made inquiries
| about her
''Oh, no." said he they're all straight we'll
made girls and bright from first to last. Let
me see; she's one of the three or four in short
| dresses, isn't shel'
| "She cooks, )" l replied.
''They all do they're trim housekeepers. The
| women praise the way they've piloed along ever
| since their mother died. l don't think I've seen
| that one for year or two
When felt impelled to tell Psyche how hand
| some her head was, its front became stepped in
| pink from chin to low-reaching hair as she re-
| Piled, sincerely: ''You ought to see Leda's head
before you make any speeches. She is the beauty
| of the family"