Morning journal and courier., 1885-03-24
THE BOSTON GIRL.
Her Remarkable Attractions and Mar
Velous Accomplishments.

VeIous Accomplishments.
Letter in Boston Journal
Why does the naughty outside world take
such delight in ridiculing the Boston girl?
Do they know what she is before they begin
to pick her to pieeess Have they any per-
sonal and intimate acquaintance with that
best product of our beloved city, as exclu-
sively her own as the Common and Bunker
Hill and more characteristic than either? A
real Boston girl is as sweet a creature as the
sun shines upon. Brought up in more seclu-
sion than her New York sister and in a more
Intellectual atmosphere than her Philadel-
phia cousin, with the brightness of the West
without its bo1dness and the ease of the
South without its Incidence, with English
activity without English coarseness and
French vivacity without it's superfciality,
she is a compound of the finest essence of
each with more of the evenness of proper
ton to adjust the perfume properly. She
has the energy of her Puritan grandsire and
some-not too much-of the common sense of
mis- wife; she is talented by nature and edu
Gated by art; she is unconsciously witty, un-
commonly ready and ferociously pretty, with
a clear eye and blush rose CHEEK and fig
-ure-well! Just look at the next girl you
meet in honN&pun, tailor-made suit, and
tell me WnaU you Cn1nk ner.
Then she isn't above making her own hats
and embroidering her own dresses and deco
rating her parlor and acquiring language or
two for sport. She IS always musician and
almost always an artist-iu theory if not in
practice. And she usually has one pet
scheme, whether of charity, of fashion, of
amusement, of study or of usefulness,
which she manages to keep running at high
pressure through all this turbulent stream of
side issues. Her one fault is that of having
too many irons in the fire-for she never al
lows one to get cold without first using it;
and as a natural consequence she is touch
and go with i'll health while she should still
be in the heyday of youth, and learns that
she has backbone and nerves years before
she should be conscious that she had been
born with either.
I sat between couple of them the other
night at that same symphony concert, and
came home in sort of daZe to how any
two creatures could know so much about SO
many things and carry it all off so easily un
der that graceful garb of simplicity and un-
affectedness which fits the Boston girl if it
were made to order. They knew the special
style of every man in the orchestra, from the
leader, Listemann, to dear, departed Lich-
tenburg, of happy memory; they could tell
if the oboe fell a sixteenth part of half
tone from the pitch, or if the furthest kettle
drum was shared an infnitesimal atom too
tightly When the andantino of a Tschai-
kowsky concerto was fainting away in
strain of delicious sweetness that you OF l
would as soon think of analyzing as an echo
from Paradise, it reminded one of "that
staccato study of Rubinstein;' when the an
dante con fuoco began it recalled to the other
something of Brahms. They discussed the
relative merits of the Lang school and the
rival clique with a discriminating justice
that would not have shamed Solomon; they
gossiped in German and translated the French
song on the programme; they spoke of one
womans black hair as ''a study" and anoth-
er woman's bonnet as ga daisy" so that they
were human after all. They knew the gene
alogy of every one in the hall, which is an
other essentially Boston accomplishment; and
and breath that they hammered brass work,
wrote essays, painted in oil, read Wagner's
music at sight, went to the theatre every
other evening, kept up an intimate acquaint-
ance with five hundred friends, and had
their own ideas on the subject of housekeep
ing. And yet, give you my word of honor,
they looked pretty and artless and as
quiet if they had not two thoughts in
their two heads; and, although they whis-
pered great deal, they managed to do 1t
without disturbing anyone but myself, who
rather enjoyed it. For, thank heaven, their
voices were free from the usual American
shrillness You think, perhaps, that I have
been sketching an isolated type? My dear
friend, my style is as plenty peas on the
Fourth of July. It is you who have been
imposed upon by false semblance, a poor
imitation, a baselass fraud upon the genuine
Boston girl.