The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1891-06-21
; In PERJURY AND RAGS
The Mistress Of Dog Hollow,
Brooklyn.
A FRIEND OF CHARLES DICKENS
Thrilling Story Of Two Continents-lnterest-
ing "reminiscences Of the Great
Novelist

at the foot of the last range of out-lyinl
hills that rise back of Brooklyn there lies
little hut. To the traveller as he crosses
over the crest of the bluff it is entirely
hidden from view, but as he proceeds down
the southern declivity a slender thread Of
smoke curls up out of the cleft, suggesting
the smouldering reveries of a subterranear
gnome. As you descend the slope, however
small grey hu: gradually peers out at the
bottom of the bluff, in front of which
spreads large pond. All around this
quaint lonely little hut In The hollow show
the ''sods" of the squatters, against the
sides of the steep, interpreted here and
there with small wooden structures of q
more pretentious character, owned by the
more sristocraric OF the ''pleb," who have
put their money into property rather than
punch. The precise property on which
this dwarfed, dilapidated little haberdash-
cry stands, on unsurveyed grounds, would
If laid out be known geographically as
Park Place, corner Saratoga avenue. Form
eriy that whole section was verminioIsly
infested with the very worst characters,
whose shades in a sort Of stubborn heredity
Of habit invariably haunt the suburbs OF d
great city.
AS the writer OF this article wound
round the steep in front Of Snug Lake
Shanty,
A STRANGE SPECTACLE NET HIS EYE.
On the dark green water of the pond a
fleet of fine geese sailed, doffing their re-
cards obsequiousiy to some one near the
nut. All about the hut itself lay piles OF
driftwood, huge cages filed with garrulous
parrots, revolving squirrels and sobered
birds. AL sorts OF shaggy dogs ran out at
US as we approached the spot and barked
Justify, as If to inform Us tnat the name by
which the Shanty was known WIZ, 1.-The
Hounds Retreat" was something more
than mere fanciful nomenclature. The
environs of the hut were a str1nge con-
gerie of COMMISSIONS.
AT the loose sagging gate sat man on a
box, smoking pipe and dreamily follow
ing with his eye the slowly ascending
vapor as the reveries of the smoke-rings
diu and undid their fantastic queris curl
ously in the air, that jealousy wiped them
out one by one as fast as they formed.
At the door of the hut sat an aged wo
man nursing her face with her hands, as
she bent obviously over some man uscriptS
which she held on her lap. Her face as she
raised il at length, looked the very oppo-
site of that of the man at the gate. 1t was
strong, striding and dashed with haggard
CLEANS of what had once been an express
sive but what was now crucial counter
ance. Suffering had left its lines in every
look and care had caserned her eye, branded
her brow and bitten her cheek. A spider
cancer on her neck was on its way up TO
her brain and flashes OF pain shot their hot
twinges through her face internationally.
To one skilled at charactery her viSage was
peculiarly interesting one. Sarcasm lay
witheringly curled about her lips. A cold,
icy defiance lurked around her firm mouth
that
MELTED AWAY AT A KIND WORD.
The hut itself was truly idiosyncratic
specimen of architecture. 1t was built by
the husband of the woman about twelve
years ago. 1t contained one room only
which served as kitchen, bedroom. dining
room, sitting room, reception room, wash
room, store room, spare room, pantry and
parlor. Two or three one-legged chairs, a
upsy table, bed that nearly BACKED the
whole dormitory. miniature stove, an old
hairy trunk a writing desk and few sun
dries were the furnitures that graced Snug
Lake Shanty. The floor was bare. Indeed
until lately it was earth. The walls were
succeed with ingenious caricatures. The
only screen that lnterposed between the oc-
cupants of the but and the storms of win
ter, or the scorching faunts of summer was
d single siding of weatherboards with
knotholes as ventilators. 1t has only one
window. 1t is only 12Xl2 feet, but il holds
d history Oh TWO COQuDeu0S.
Accusing the oracle at the little gate the
writer ventured some tranquilizing remark
TO him, suited to the peculiarly aerial, at
peace Of mind with all-the- world mood that
he was in. Gradually as he spoke in pro-
found platitude the clucaing chickens one
by one gathered silently and reverently
around him queering their heads ominously
as if fearful they might lose a word. The
furious Bernard stopped barking and lay
down at his feet The pigeons settled near
him on the old rookery in caves dropping
silence. The run round squirrel stood
stock still on his hind legs in mute astonish-
menr, with one leg laid like finger on his
lip. The old woman at the door who had
looked up for an instant as the writer
spoke, buried her face once more in her
hands, apparently lost in thought as before
At length the sage turned refectiyely,
tipped his Peter Tony out on the gate post
and said
IN HOLLOW sEPULCHRAL TONE
as he emptied the sparkless contents of the
pipe on the flags,
'sAshes to ashes, dust to dust. That's all
there is in if from last to first"
Suddenly the woman looked up.
pray be seated, SIR she said, rising and
pointing to the old chair which he had lust
occupied, with a peculiarly graceful and
courteous gesture of the hand. Don't
beg of you, stand for the sake of any un-
comfortable politeness.'
We looked at the woman in amazement
Uncomfortable politeness." Remarkably
good phrase, certainly. And then. az pray
you" and II beg" No ''pleb" about that.
And then, too, that fine Delsartean wave
of the hand with which, suiting the action
to the WORD, she gestured to that empty
chair.
Take your seat, my good madam said
the writer as the woman halt reluctantly
resumed her intirm chair.
''Fine poultry and pigeons, madam" 1 |
remarked.
The woman laid aside her old faded man
uscripts and fixing her gray eyes on me |
talked with remarkable intelligence and |
polite information about her fowls and pets |
Here was a woman in hut who, as she sat
on that old rheumatic chair, creaking with !
pain in every joint, was evidently person |
OF great cultivation, whose every word be-
trayed refinement and story Of better |
days,
WOMAN N SQUALOR,
yet cren in her unprecedented delinea- |
tons of rookery, a woman, whose |
fine seizures of diction, whose play |
and sparkle of wit, whose knowledge of /
natural history, whose whole ensemble |
instantly and incontestibly betrayed the /
fact that she was no ordinary individual. |
And all this long continued conversation
without SO much as the slightest suspicion |
OF ungrammar.
Before proceeding with this strange
story of two continents let US anticipate in
nature res.
People will read the story and say with
shrug of the shoulders and a shake Of the
head:
improbable, to say the leastr'