The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1892-07-02


Here hammock piled high with cush-
ions was swung "kitty-cornered," as
one says in the country. A great pile
of papers and periodicals Uttered the
table, aud the walls wore literally pa
pered with souvenirs OF Miss Hunts
journalistic career.
Then there were photographs Of ac-
tresses in costumes which made Misc
Hunts mother sigh deprecatingly when.
ever she looked at them; there cuts
illustrating many of the girl reporters
news stories which made the dear lady
shake her head; there was Chinese
opium Pipe from a Mott street dive
which made Mrs. Hunt gasp, and an
ugly stiletto which had accompanied
Mics Hunt on many an assignment and
| which her mother never regarded with
out a shudder.
1t was all so curious to this gentle,
timid, unworldly mother-this strange,
busting, feverish life her little daughter
had led in 'that wicked Babylon" rs
she was pleased to term New York.
She could not comprehend the ways and
means Vi modern journalism-they were
mysterious and past finding 6ht.
"Were there no men to be sent on
such missions?" she would plaintively
ask when her daughter was relating
some OF her thrilling experiences-a
midnight visit to the morguc, two or
three hours in the room where famous
murder was committed, or an interview
with celebrated prize fighter.
"The novelty, DEAR" Miss Hunt would
reply-"the novelty OF woman's views
OF these scenes"
81 can not understand these condi-
tions. All, how thankful l am it is all
over for you and that you are here sale
with me-"
And at first Miss Hunt smiled reas-
suringIy and said: Eyes, dear, SO
am l."
At first. But alter?
When the perfect rest the girl soreiy
needed had done it's work; when after
weeks OF sound, sweet sleep in the dear
little room through whose windows the
resinous odor OF the pines came, bring
Ing natures sweet restorer, and on
whose roof tho rain battered in soothing
lullaby, there came vaguely certain
half.defned longings to be up and
doing again,
With grim resolution Miss Hunt tried
to Danish these intangible suggestions,
but, like Banquo's ghost, they would
not down. will you lead a drone's
life" they seemed to whisper. Are
you content to stop here and stille in
in this atmosphere? Go back to your
work"
One day, on opening the newspaper
| for which she had Workal while in New
York, paragraph caught her eye to
the effect that Miss Van SCribble had
been sent to India with celebrated
woman explorer to represen: the enter
prising journal.
Miss Hunt dropped the paper with a
smothered cry Little Van Scribble,
she who had written nothing but fash-
ion twaddle and gossippy rubbish, to
have such luck!
~ night have had thatappointment,"
thought Miss Hunt as she looked out
the window with dreamy, far away
expression rs one seeing the glidcd
domes and minarets OF the glorious
orient
When at nightiall, few days later.
her father came from town he handed
her letter The envelope bore the
we'll remembered letter head OF the big
Now York daily. Miss Hunts hands
shook as she opened ii and read the
note from its managing editor. lie
wished her to return. There was bet
Ter chance than ever OH THO paper for
mn enterprisinS woman; het work was
missed; there seemed to be no one who
could handle exactly the same stutt
which Miss Hunt had done SO well, In
fine, she had better not bury herse!f
and her talents, but come back to her
proper place. The note ended with the
offer OF good salary.
Miss Hunt leaned against the open
window, the letter in her hands. 1t
was perfect June evening. There was
soft rustic among the leaves, pramon-
tory OF coming shower. The per-
fnme OF her mothOr's rose garden stole
upward. The golden crescent of the
new moon hung low on the horizon, in
the apple tree robin was plaintiVely
calling for rain.
Suddenly in on this peaceful scene
was bore that rumble and rour OF n
great city. Again Miss Hunt saw the
throng surging up and down Newspa-
per row and heard the ceasoless tramp
OF the restless multitude. ' Out
flashed the electric lights. The
shrill cries of the newsboys-"Wextra
WextraW-came ringing on the air.
An ambulance changed along the
street, Cabs rolled up to the
door OF the great building.
Downstairs the huge presses were
hammering out to-morrow's news.
The windows we're ablnze.
Color, light, centurion work. The
scene trembled with movement and vi
brated with life
Miss Hunt drew long breath, crossed
the room to her desk and began to
write. There was no help for her. She
had smelt printers inkon more. The
feyerlsh influences OF her old life came
back upon her seven-fold. Yes, she
would return. She had, wasted, time
enough. There was work for her to do:
oh, TO be back, back in her accustomed
haunts, back at her studies OF human
nature, back at her dissection OF human
souls.
'Desr sir" she wrote, "your letter re-
ceived, and after deliberation / have de-
cided to accept"
Up from the rose garden through the
window came the sound OF voice
sweet tender, tremulous.
kitty" it called. kitty, whore are
yeu, dearP Mother needs you"
Mechanically Miss Hunt rose and
| a. -,