Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-03-30
A TEXAS GIRL ABROAD.
She Tells of Herself and Two Ameri.
can Companions as Parlor
Boarders.
Her Experience With French Teacher
Thinks She Can speak and Write French
in Two Monihs-Tale of Fiddle.
MORE ABOUT THE CONVENT.
Correspondence of the Gazette.

I
! In my last letter told you about the
! general life of the convent, but as for
! myself and the two other American par
lor-boarders, We have very little part in
that. We eat before the others at a
separate table, though the children Of
ten come and go before we are through,
and we have just about what we want
for bill OF fare. We have our sepa-
rate rooms, and fires, with dear kind
sister who takes care of them, and
brings US hot water in the morning, and
our first breakfast in bed if we desire it.
l love my little white chamber with the
flowers from the greenhouse blooming on
the marble chimney piece, and the cru
cifxes and pictures of saints upon the
walls; manage to sleep in my soft little
bed, under my two white blankets and
my eider-down quilt, from o'clock at
| night till 1880 the next morning.
( Sunday mornings we are expected to ap-
pear at mass. The first Sunday, being
anxious to please Notre Mere by coming
promptly to the chapel at Z 'clock, I
woke up every hour of the night in wild
surely it was after a / groaned; still
would get up in order to say that had
t'done my level best. Scratch!
Scratch! with my wretched sulphur
matches against the wall, the stove, the
floor! There were six pale blue flares,
and [ was left stranded on the icy bare
floor in my icy bare feet, in utter dark
ness. 1 don't know exactly how 1 got
dressed, but did and was just ready to
rush for the chapel when the clock struck
five! tumbled into bed, hat, sealskin,
BOOTS AND ALL,
to comfort my frozen soul with elder
down till Z. Since that experience
l take my shovel to bed with me every
Saturday night, for / have discovered a
certain spot on its back where sulphur
matches will sometimes take fire; more
over, l stir not until the English teacher
comes IN to inform me that 1t is half past
6, and am fas, regainlng my boarding
school accomplishment of dressing III TWO
minutes and one-half.
If do not speak and write French
perfectly at the end OF two months, it
will not be the fault of the convent. In
the morning Nine. Melodie comes in to
give me lesson, and l would consider
anybody lucky who had Nine. Melodie g
company for an hour and a half every
daY without considering the instruction
gained thereby. Gentle, dainty, child
hearted Nine. Melodie, with the keen
literary tastes, the quick humOr, the soft
little laugh, the little sad look on the
delicate face when in repose-that tells
Of heart grief not yet conquered. My
thoughts will turn back lovingly to the
quiet hour spent with her in the
little white room, reading the musical,
free flowing sentences of ChataubriaDd
or laughing tenderlY in sympathy with
Eugene de Geurin, that tenderest of
sisters. I shall always see her in my
mind as she sits beside me here, near my
little stove; she always makes me take
the easy chair while she sits upright in
a straight chair. 1t is not easv to be
GRACEFUL IN RIGHT-ANGLED SEAT,
but my little madame is always at ease,
and the black veil which falls in soft
folds far down on her petite figure, adds
its grace to the harmony Of her perfect
repose. Once she stopped suddenly as I
laughingly knelt by her side to see how
the muscles of her throat worked when
she talked French. She stopped and
kissed me, and shall not soon forget
the soft surprise of that sudden kiss.
In the afternoon Mile. Annette, the
pEpil-teacher, comes in, a merry black
eyed, keen witted French girl, who
gives me diotations, drills me on verbs,
and discusses literature and history with
great zest. At night write journal in
French, faithfully recording all the
Of >,
correction in the morning. 1t frequently
requires dictionary and all the French
explanations of which am capable to ex-
plicate this chronicle. Once tried to be
funny Horrible memory! Nine. Melodie g
face looked sad and worn when at last
she had succeeded in strengthening out
all the little quirks of language that 1
had purposely introduced. My face was |
blazing, but offered no excuses. Nine
Melodie 'ss puzzled expression was my
just reward. 1t is quite culpable enough !
to try to be funny in English, but IN q
foreign tongue!
Oh this ''langue francaise!'' It is as
evasive and difficult to lay hold of as one
of the long pipes of this macaroni cooked |
in butter which we have so frequently on /
the table. You grasp il firmly with the
fork of your understanding and the
spoou Vi your AotuOEgs you L1iQh you 4
have it, when behold your fork and spoon
empty, and the slippery stuff squirms off |
on to the
TABLE OF OBLIVION!
The reading and writing are not diff |
cult, as you probably all know, but to be /
able to grasp these smooth flowing sem
fences when they are poured into your
ears, and to make them signify anything
more to your mind than the babble of /
a brook. that is certainly not easy.
There is a mucilsgenous substance on the /
end of every French word that fastens it
indlssolubly to the beginning of the next |
word, and how is the foreigner, used to
having bis words fenced off from each /
other by consonants, to know one word |
from dozen when they are all turned |
into the same pasture, so to speak? |
All, but ip is so pretty and soft, and |
sweet and de1icatel The words roll SO
smoothly off the tongueI To talk Eng
llsh again will seem like taking bread