A good many years ago,--let me look in the glass again,--never
use hair dye,--yes, a great many years ago, I was studying my
profession in a medical office with several other students. Just
below stood a book-bindery, and a little above, the residence of a
poor widow. A girl of twenty years passed backward and forward, from
one to the other, several times a day. Very rarely did she pass our
office without one or more of us observing her. Very natural, you
say. But you don't understand me. She was not a handsome girl. Her
dress was of the plainest calico, and, I suppose on account of her
occupation, it was not always clean. But, nevertheless, she was one
of our staple attractions.
Our office was on the main street, and above us were the residences
of the rich. Hundreds of girls with handsome faces and rich dresses
passed every day, but we were not on the lookout for them. It was
only the book-binding girl that drew us to the window.
One of our fellows would cry out, "Here she goes. Come quick, John;
quick, Henry."
Curious, wasn't it?
And what do you suppose so excited our interest?
She walked well! Ah! I can see her now! What a queen!
Queenly, we exclaim, with reference to a certain manner of walking.
We never say queenly mouth, or queenly eyes, or queenly nose. The
word is applied only to a certain style of personal carriage. When
we see a woman pass, carrying her head and shoulders in a peculiar
way, stepping off in a grand, elastic style, the word queenly leaps
to every lip.
Our book-binding girl was a Methodist; and I do not mind telling you
that I used to go to the Methodist church pretty often, and always
sat in the gallery, that I might see her come in and go out. She
frequented a little social organization, in which young men and
women assembled for conversation, reading, singing, etc. I joined,
although there was no other attraction than our queen.
You may think it very strange, but I was never introduced to her; I
never spoke with her. Indeed, I carefully avoided a personal
acquaintance, lest a lack of intelligence and sentiment might break
the charm of her peerless bearing. I think that nothing in any woman
has ever more deeply impressed my imagination than that young
woman's splendid mien.