The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-19
AT THE HOME OF THE POETS.
The House i'm New Orleans Where Geo.
w. Cable and joaquin Miller Live.
A Luncheon in Company with the Poet of
the Sierras and the Poet Of Passion
Southern Hatred of Cable.

Correspondence of the indianapolis Journal
New ORLEANS, April 15.-There is house in
this whimsical old city which the inhabitants
thereof decline to enter upon any pretext even to
breakfast with the great poet who lives in it. tits
pretty house, too; softly painted and set in the
midst of poisoning orange trees and riotous
greenery of every description. Violets look
shyly up from the garden borders. and bird
shadows fit across the broad veranda The local
ity is good and the drainage very tolerable There
is no suspicion that the place is haunted-yes.
there is For ever and ever, the people think,
there stalks about the rooms of this house the
ghost of dead loyalty. So they keep away.
1t belongs, as you have guessed, to George w.
Cable the greatest writer the South has ever pro-
duced Never had prophet less honor
in his own country The South
ern Americans, in the noble jealousy
with which they guard the memory of the lost
cause, despise him as traitor; the creoles exc
crate him on family grounds. In ali this passion
ate, headstrong country there is not one who
will speak fairly of him-not one who will see
the pure sparkle of the mans nobility. His ten
der handling of society's sore spots in 1.-THE
Grandissimes;" his quick, sure perception In
Madame Delphine;" his wonderful divination
in 'Dr SEWER" and the lovely sympathy that
CLOVIS in every page of all his books-it is all
nothing
HE said the Northern cause was justW ex-
claims one whose brother fell in the gray of the
Confederacy, and turns upon his heel. 'He say
we ave de negro in our familee" shrieks the in
r r;+1,b H., oO,p o,sxy
sword-hilt.
climbed the steps of the generous veranda.
the other morning, and raped a sonorous rap.
The door opened, and disclosed the poet of
the Sierras in full uniform. 1t is to
be recorded very much to the credit of Mr..
Millers sense of the aesthetic that of late he has
gone shod like the rest of humanity. The IN
utterable boots, that everywhere accompany his
reputation, have disappeared for the present
from the public view. Minus the boots, there
fore, Joaquin stood before me in characteristic
attire. His blue eyes were as eloquent as usual.
and his brown hair fell to his coat collar in the
accustomed halo. He beckoned and followed
on-on to pleasant little breakfast room, where
sat three ladies discussing an omelet One was
tall and dark, and her face had a history in it.
That was Mrs. Frank Leslie. the wife and bust
ness successor of the famous publisher. She
has aquiline features, thin lips, rather prom-
nent dark blue eyes and very striking converse
tional talent. Everybody knows that she is
main this time with the elegant and accom-
plished Marquis de Leuville at the helm. Pro-
found the satisfaction to your correspondent in
years Of future obscurity, to reflect that in one
halcyon hour the Warehouses de Leuvile in.
sisted upon her assistance in the consumption of
ham! She has most unladylike little dog that
fourishes several bells with wild and discordant
effect, and barks madly at it's mistresss witt
cisms. A most objectionable little dog, that
succeeds in monopolizing the conversation as
only black and-tan or a baby can. Opposite
Mrs. Leslie sat vision in gray travelling suit
with artistic lines of fur upon it, and a dash of
color at the neck-Ela Wheeler.
Wilcox" added Mrs. Leslie;, and the fair
poetess nodded a radiant assent. She has been
married just ten months, and the honeymoon is
of indefinite promise Reddish brown hair and
eyes, fitting color, strong passionate face
that is often but not always beautiful, shapely
Poems of Passion, the girl of twenty-five,
who long ago built a house for her mother with
no tool but her pen, and whose first verses were
published by the future Marquse opposite her.
Somebody else there forget who one of
those people that applaud aud fill empty chairs
and conversational gaps, and go about the world
seeking autographs And there we all sat ard
listened around the Southern novelist's table,
while his Puri an ancestress looked disapprov-
ingly down at the author of 'Memorie and
Rime," as he touched match to the favoring of
his coffee; Mrs Leslie told US of her four
hundred contributors and her utter abomination
of housekeeping. Joaquin sent up paean in
honor of the workers of the earth, and Ella
expatiated upon the angelic qualities Of her new
husband.
Hang your husband, "quoth our host, ''tell us
about yourself"
And she did, very naively and charmingly
wa al1 md made nil tyry 10
the cottage of Cables mother, just over the way.
AS plain. and neat and scrupulous, and orthodox
as any interior could be- was the little sitting
room into which we were shown. Positively the
the inimitabe face of Mark Twain, that looked
out of a cabinet photograph on the wall. Cable
stood beside him-small, great-heade dark and
heavily whiskered-acute perception and appre-
citation written in every feature. We had time
to look at all this before his little, withered,
brown mother came in, quiet of voice, quick
stepping, with meek dignity and sweet solicit
tude. Very happily conscious of her position in
the worlds eyes, the little woman is unaffected
by it in any other way and effaces herself in the
most motherly manner in the glorifcation of her
son. She is much grieved over the bitter COM
ments of the papers here but hopes that the
unmixed adulation of the Northern journals will
keep him correct" She is by no means
Louisianan product, this woman. There is
nothing large or dangerous about her. She is
perfect New England type What lovely things
are happening to me" cried Mrs Wilcox, de-
lightedly. Then turning impulsively to the
tiny dame she added: Twill you let me say that
1 have kissed George Cables motherl"
1t is needless to state that the privilege was
very graciously and unconsciously granted. Be-
fore we stepped away into the sunlight that lay
broadly across the banquettes and along the gut
tiers OF this fascinating old town, we robbed the
widows hoard Of shrub and blossom, and no ex-
position souvenir wear will bring more sweetly
into future days the perfume of a pleasant
memory than those dark-leaved olive sprays.
GARTH.
JEFF Davis's Alleged Elopement.
Galena Gid Letter in Chicago Inter Ocean.
The mention of the name of Jefferson Davis