Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-12-15

only SO funny as a mans honor.
And q woman's vanity, want to add,
but how can I, now Mrs. Alnster McWard
is to the front in her fencing attire.
Her dress Is Of velvet. a jacket and skirt,
The jacket Is built like the fencing jacket
of a man-high in the throat, buttoned on
the shoulder and under the arm, and Is
worn without corsets. The skirt reaches
Just 10 the knee. Her shapely legs are in
black stockings and her feet in canvas
shoes
Upstairs now for the fencing lesson in
long, broad corridor, hung with rare
works of art. Verify, lucre may be filthy,
yet 1t makes life pretty and, one would
fancy, endurable. Yet recall hearing that
Mrs. Allster McWard sits every day In the
week, she has lately taken to studying
thcosophy. and says: Oh, contentment,
what Is your street and number? Mrs.
Allister McWard says that theosophy helps
her to be contented.
The Fencer's Outfit.
But the fencing master has called time,
and the kindergarten fight is on.
1t Is not quite as smooth Of execution as
the duel in which Della Fox engages in
the Little Trooper" But it perplexes
your eye, and altogether battles your I'M
Outstanding.
Now. then. bend the left leg. No: hold
the body erect. Disengage. Thrust-not
so much exertion. Don't clutch your foil.
Well out with the right leg when you
thrust; straighten the arm" etc, etc.
The steel of Mrs. Allister McWard cuts
the air clashes with the professeurs, and
1abs the professeur In vital parts, while
her little body springs and bends, her eyes
fash and her cheeks blaze
Really, the spectacle is so inspiriting i
must take hand myself.
i am not coStumed for the part, but the
professeur has all the properties essential
to the play. so that 1 am able to go on
with next thing to a dress rehearsal.
First the professeur fastens over the
right half of my trunk what looks like a
bisected chest protector, made thick enough
to insure weak lungs against an arctic
blast 1t Is of chamois skin, stuffed with
hair. and upholstered with crimson leather
buttons. In the center is a red leather
heart Besides acting protection
against the sword of your adversary, this
is sort of target to score his thrusts. In
fencing with foils the trunk of the body
only Is open to attack, and a thrust sue
ce5sfully directed at the red leather heart
of the enemy in fencing lesson counts
blood"
Next, the professor gives me a pair of
thick white gloves. Then he puts over my
face a cage like the mask of a base ball
player, save that 1T Is more secure against
flies and has the steel bars covered with
two layers of fine wire screening. Then
he hands me a foil.
At the swords Point.
sudden passion for it takes possession of
me directly have tested its fiexibility and
fingered, first curiously, then fondly it's
slender, shining blade.
"Ha! hal Villain!" I want to shout at
the professor and set to in dead earnest for
his blood.
Butt beg your pardon"
For a fact the little man, now face him
to night looks as If he were after my
blood
L laugh a kind of sclly laugh and
say, Er-professeur, OF course you'll
member I'm Just beginning. You wouldn't
really do anything harsh, would your"
But all unheeding the white flag in which
l am endeavoring to wrap my quaking
form the professeur, looking like Rayochal
arraignng weakkneed mercy at the bar
OF anarchy, is ordering ME in French to
take position.
Fasquelle. Telemaque. meisterschaft-aIl
my French deserts me in this hour Of bitter
need, and I'm dependent entirely on my
instinct TO divine what the professeur is
telling me to do in order TO save my life
that is wabbling before the point of his
sword.
I'm standing now straightsr than / ever
before stood in my life; my feet are at
ten minutes of two; my left arm hanging
at my side; my right, with the foil clutched
at the hilt, extended downward, the button
a bit from the floor; my profile toward the
enemy; my anxious gaze making me cross
eyed in my eagerness to anticipate his next
order.
EN- gardew
1 have extended my sword. toward the
eye OF my enemy; then--well, sthen, for a
minute or two fireworks at ConeY Island
are not in it with the series of fiips and
flashes make that finally bring me up in
the most beautiful attitude-you know it
body forward, right leg bent, left hand
back up in the air, the right arm direc ting
the sword to seem clearly to mean
business next.
But, no; 1 neither draw the professors
blood nor spill mine. l describe some more
sllyrocket curves, / tap the floor with my
heel 1 rest my sword hilt at the center of
my chin, smell of the blade an instant and
whip the air with my steel.
Arnica and Anarchism.
Oh, I'm a fighter now all over. My blood
is boiling. The nerve of my piratcal
Cestors is tingling in my flesh. Hi! vi!
Louder, faster with the musc-again and
again. There take that, will yoU-you red
eyed anarchist. I'm another and you
want to look out for me. or I'll spread
your vital fluid all over Washington.
Bravo" cries the professor, and for a
minute I've half mind to kill him in cold
blood-it's such jar to my nerves thus to
be called down by applause from the high
horse 1 was riding into real duel.
The halt came none too soon, however, /
learned later. For. glorious Is the exer-
else of fencing, it discovers muscles one
doesn't know exist until the next day
when pains and aches in unaccustomed
parts reveal them.
But snap Of the finger for passing pains
and aches!
Though fencing lead TO rheumatism at the
start-yea, though fencing belongs to Mrs.
Allister McWard, and L am bourgeoise
here's to the arme blanche! Here's to ar
MICA! here's to anarchy! farinca and anar-
chy must follow. I'm going to practice
fencing right straight along every day I'M
I'll the sword Is just as mighty as the pen
OF PAULINE PRY.