Kansas University Weekly.
355
LITERARY.
Elizabeth Thurston, A Latter-day Myth.
Iam the only son of a fond mother who is very susceptible to the smiles of agents in general and book agents in particular. Could she however, have foreseen the tragedy which was to result from her tenderness for beardless venders of red morocco quartos, and angular Vendresses of inexpensive but invaluable monthly magazines, she would have steeled her heart to the loquacious agent of the "Ladies Household adviser." Not having the gift of prescience, she entertained him for an hour, then subscribed for his instructive paper.
From my youth up, even since the days when ladies were wont to say to my mother "What a sweet little girl you have." I have been ingloriously indentified with the female sex. By the time Iwas twentyone, long acquaintance with the dishpan and carpet-sweeper had quite crushed my natural spirit, and father had given me up as a hopeless "Miss Nancy."
As you may suspect, I hailed the advent of the "Ladies household Adviser." I read with interest long articles on pickle making and the extermination of moths, and gained stores of information about the washing of woolens.
My interest was chiefly aroused, however, by the last leaf of the magazine where Miss Eilizabeth Thurston held her monthly "Chats with Girls." These chats I read with attention; at first from a sense of duty,—for I read a magazine as I rake the yard, thoroughly from front to back. Afterward I read with a totally unexplainable eagerness, which deepened from month to month. It mattered little to me whether a girl of fifteen should or should not receive gentleman callers nor was I vitally concerned in the details of a "trousseau appropriate for a June wedding," yet I pored over these and kindred topics with an earstness I had never bestowed upon my catechism.
I cannot define the feeling which awoke within me. It was a response to the sudden revelation of woman to man. The only women I had kown were the rude, rough-haired, redhanded damsels of our village, women whose grammar was quite as barbaric as their taste in dress. But here was one who knew the world and society, was experienced in those things of which I, her unknown admirer, was profoundly ignorant, and who was, nevertheless, essentially feminine. I admire women of the Amelia
Sedley type. If I were permitted to amend the liturgy I would insert. "From all manner of new women, sharp of eye and witty of tongue, good lord deliver us!"
I sought to picture to myself the woman who wrote on polite topics as one having authority, and bore the prime, puritan name, Elizabeth Thurston, Fancy painted a sweet girlish face, with serious eyes and a tender mouth.
I had a curious feeling that my divinity was conscious of my adoration; that some of her sentiments were offered for my approval. I ordered my every action in accordance with her supposed code of ethics and etiquette. There is a certain advantage in being in love with a figment of your own brain, for you never experience the shock of finding your sweetheart in an ill-fitting gown, or a pouting mood.
What deeds I did in my lady's name! I astounded my good mother by my courtly manner in carrying coal for her, and the fantastic devotion with which I attended her to and from prayer-meeting. The village girls, who hadknown me all my life, and who had not had my opportunities in regard to the "Household Adviser" were said to make merry over my newly acquired chivalry.
One night as I was finishing one of the long effusions I was in the habit of writing to Miss Thurston—with which, by the way, I always lighted the kitchen fire next morning, I had a brilliant idea: why should I pine for a word from her, when Minnie, Jennie, or Kittie could have twenty lines for the asking?
I purchased some note paper, as elaborate as our town could boast; I searched the back numbers of the "Adviser" for hints upon correspondence: finally I composed a question for Miss Elizabeht which ran somewhat as follows:
"Can you tell me what will remove freckles; also, what I can combine with my navy blue silk to make a stylish gown? signed"A. A." which is being interpreted, "Ardent Admirer."
I waited anxiously for the next number of the "Adviser." When it came, I scanned the last page for my answer. "A. A." was advised to use Buttermilk for freckles, and to trim the blue silk in red, green, or some such color, I dont remember exactly what. I felt a twinge of pain over the indifference of the answer. I resolved to try once more. This time I wrote a personal letter every line of which breathed