HOW MISS WILHELMINA CARR AND FLORA BECAME ACQUAINTED.
Among the many persons who called upon Flora to talk over her projected
emigration was a Miss Wilhelmina Carr--a being so odd, so wayward, so
unlike the common run of mortals, that we must endeavour to give a
slight sketch of her to our readers. We do not possess sufficient
artistic skill to do Miss Wilhelmina justice; for if she had not
actually lived and walked the earth, and if we had not seen her with our
own eyes, and heard her with our own ears, we should have considered her
a very improbable, if not an impossible, variety of the human species
feminine. We have met with many absurd people in our journey through
life, but a more eccentric individual never before nor since has come
under our immediate observation.
Flora's means were far too limited for her to entertain company. Her
visitors were confined entirely to her own family, and a few old and
chosen friends, with whom she had been intimate from childhood. How,
then, did she become acquainted with this lady? Oddly enough; for
everything connected with Miss Carr was odd, and out of the common way.
There was a mystery, too, about Miss Carr, which had kept the gossips
busy for the last four months, and clever and prying as they were--quite
models in their way--not one of them had been able to come at the
solution of the riddle.
One hot day during the preceding summer, Miss Wilhelmina walked into the
town, wearing a man's broad-brimmed straw hat, and carrying a cane in
her hand, with a very small dog trotting at her heels. She inquired at
the first hotel in the town for lodgings, and hired two very handsome
apartments of Mrs. Turner, who kept very respectable lodgings, and was
patronised by the best families in the neighbourhood. Miss Wilhelmina
paid three months' rent in advance; she brought no servant, and was to
find her own table, engaging Mrs. Turner to cook and wait upon her.
Some days after her arrival, two large travelling trunks, and several
well-filled hampers full of wine of the best quality, were forwarded to
her direction, and Miss Carr became one of the lions of the little
watering-place.
Who she was, or from what quarter of the world she emanated, nobody
could find out. She had evidently plenty of money at her command, lived
as she liked and did what she pleased, and seemed perfectly indifferent
as to what others thought of her.
Her eccentric appearance attracted general attention, for she was no
recluse, and spent most of her time in the open air. If your walk lay
along the beach, the common, or the dusty high-road, you were sure to
meet Miss Carr and her dog at every turn.
The excitement regarding her was so great, that most of the ladies
called upon her in the hope of gratifying their curiosity, and learning
something about her from her own lips. In this they were quite
disappointed, for Miss Wilhelmina Carr, though she was sitting at the
window nursing her dog, did not choose to be at home to any one, and
never had the courtesy to return these ceremonious visits. An old
practised propagator of news waylaid Mrs. Turner in the street, and
cross-questioned her in the most dexterous manner concerning her
mysterious lodger; but the good woman was either seized with a fit of
unusual prudence, or, like Horace Smith's mummy--
"Was sworn to secrecy."
There was no getting anything out of her beyond the astounding
facts, that Miss Carr smoked out of a long pipe, drank brandy-punch, and
had her table served with all the dainties of the season. "Besides all
this," whispered the cautious Mrs. Turner, "she swears like a man." This
last piece of information might be a scandal, the ladies hoped that it
was, but believed and talked about it as a shocking thing, if true, to
all their acquaintance, and congratulated themselves that the dreadful
woman had shown her wisdom in not returning the visits of respectable
people.
The person about whom all this fuss was made, was a tall, and very stout
woman of fifty years of age; but active and energetic looking for her
time of life. Her appearance was eccentric enough to afford ample scope
for all the odd sayings and doings in circulation respecting her. She
had a satirical, laughing, jolly red face, with very obtuse features;
and, in order to conceal hair of a decidedly carroty hue, she wore an
elaborately curled flaxen wig, which nearly covered her large forehead,
and hung over her eyes like the curly coat of a French poodle dog. This
was so carelessly adjusted, that the red and flaxen formed a curious
shading round her face, as their tendrils mingled and twined within each
other. Her countenance, even in youth, must have been coarse and vulgar;
in middle life, it was masculine and decidedly ugly, with no redeeming
feature, but the large good-natured mouth, well set with brilliantly
white teeth--strong, square, even teeth, that seem to express their
owner's love of good cheer; and silently intimated, that they had no
light duty to perform, and were made expressly for eating.
Miss Carr, though she sported a man's hat and carried a cane, dressed
expensively, her outer garments being made of the richest materials;
but she wore these so ridiculously short, that her petticoats barely
reached below the middle of her legs; leaving exposed to general
observation, the only beauty she possessed--a remarkably handsome and
neatly made foot and ankle.
Now, we don't believe that Miss Carr cared a fig about her handsome legs
and feet. If they had belonged to the regular Mullingar breed, she would
have shown them as freely to all the world; simply, because she chose to
do so. She was a great pedestrian, to whom long petticoats would have
been uncomfortable and inconvenient.
If she was vain of anything, it was of her powers of locomotion. She had
made the tour of Europe on foot and alone, and still continued to walk
her ten or fourteen miles a day, let the weather be what it would. Hail,
rain, blow, or snow, it was all one to Miss Carr. "She was walking," she
said, "to keep herself in practice, as she was contemplating another
long journey on foot."
Ida Pfeiffer, the celebrated female traveller, was unknown in those
days; or Miss Carr might have taken the shine out of that adventurous
lady; as easily as the said Ida destroys all the romantic notions
previously entertained by stay-at-home travellers, about the lands she
visits, and the people who form the subjects of her entertaining
matter-of-fact books.
When Miss Carr made her _debut_ at church, with her masculine hat placed
resolutely on the top of her head, and cane in hand, people could not
say their prayers, or attend to the sermon, for staring and wondering at
the uncouth apparition which had so unceremoniously appeared in the
midst of them. This was not diminished, by her choosing to stand during
those portions of the service, when pious females bend the knee. Miss
Wilhelmina said, "that she was too big to kneel--that her prayers were
just as good in one attitude as another. The soul had no legs or knees,
that she could discover--and if the prayers did not come from the heart,
they were of no use to her, or to any one else. She had not much faith
in prayers of any kind. She never could find out that they had done her
the least good, and if she had to go through a useless ceremony, she
would do it in the most convenient manner."
Flora had heard so much about this strange woman, that she had not
called upon her on her first arrival in the town, though it must be
confessed, that her curiosity was as much excited as her neighbours'. In
her walks to and fro from her mother's house, who resided within a short
distance of the town, Flora had often encountered the sturdy pedestrian
stumping along at full speed, and she had laughed heartily with her
husband at her odd appearance; at her short petticoats, and the resolute
manner in which she swung her cane, and planted it down upon the ground.
She had often wondered how such an elephant of a woman could move so
rapidly upon such small feet, which looked as if she had lost her own,
and borrowed a pair of some child by the way.
She was always followed in all her rambles by a diminutive nondescript
kind of dog--a tiny, long-haired, silky looking creature, the colour of
coffee freshly ground, no bigger than a large squirrel, with brilliant
black eyes, bushy tail, and a pert little face, which greatly resembled
that animal.
Often, when moving at full speed along the dusty highway, its mistress
would suddenly stop, vociferating at the top of her voice--"Muff! Muff!
where are you, my incomparable Muff?" when the queer pet would bound up
her dress like a cat, and settle itself down upon her arm, poking its
black nose into her hand, or rearing up on its hind legs, to lick her
face. They were an odd pair, so unlike, so widely disproportioned in
size and motion, that Flora delighted in watching all their movements,
and in drawing contrasts between the big woman and her small four-footed
companion.
By some strange freak of fancy, Lyndsay and his wife had attracted the
attention of Miss Carr, who never passed them in her long rambles
without bestowing upon them a gracious bow and a smile, which displayed,
at one gesture, all her glittering store of large, white teeth.
"I do believe, John, the strange woman means to pick acquaintance with
us," said Flora to her husband, one fine afternoon during the previous
summer, as they were on their way to spend the evening with her mother
at ---- Hall. "Instead of passing us at her usual brisk trot, she has
loitered at our pace for the last half-hour, smiling at us, and showing
her white teeth, as if she were contemplating the possibility of an
introduction. I wish she would break the ice; for I am dying with
curiosity to know something about her."
"You are very foolish," said Lyndsay, who was not one of Miss Carr's
admirers, "to trouble your head about her. These eccentric people are
often great bores; and, if you get acquainted with them, it is not easy
to shake them off. She may be a very _improper_ character. I hate
mystery in any shape."
"Oh, bless you!" said Flora, laughing: "she is too old and ugly for
scandal of that sort. I should think, from her appearance, that she
never had had a sweetheart in her life."
"There's no telling," returned Lyndsay. "She may be lively and witty.
Odd people possess an attraction in themselves. We are so much amused
with them, that they fascinate us before we are aware. She has a good
figure for her very voluminous proportions, and splendid trotters, which
always possess charms for some men."
"Now, don't be censorious, husband dear. If she should speak to us--what
then?"
"Answer her civilly, of course."
"And if she should take it into her head to call upon us?"
"Return it, and let the acquaintance drop."
Flora's love of the ridiculous was her besetting sin. She continued to
watch the movements of Miss Carr with mischievous interest, and was as
anxious for an interview as Lyndsay was that she should keep her
distance. Flora pressed her hand tightly on her husband's arm, scarcely
able to keep her delight in due bounds, while she whispered, in a
triumphant aside, "John, I was right. She is shaping her course to our
side of the road. She means to speak to us,--and now for it!"
Lyndsay looked annoyed. Flora with difficulty repressed her inclination
to laugh out, as Miss Carr came alongside, and verified Mrs. Lyndsay's
prediction, by commencing the conversation in a loud-toned, but rather
musical voice,
"A bright afternoon for your walk."
"Beautiful for the time of year," said Flora.
"Rather hot for stout people like me. You seem to enjoy it amazingly."
"I am fond of walking. I do not find the heat oppressive."
"Ah, yes; you are thin. Have not much bulk to carry; one of Pharaoh's
lean kine. It requires a warm day to make your blood circulate freely. I
like winter and spring best for long rambles."
"I should think you would prefer riding," said Lyndsay; "yet I see you
out every day on foot."
"I never ride: I hate and detest riding. I never could be dependent upon
the motions of an animal. Horses are my aversion; jackasses I despise.
God, when He gave us legs of our own, doubtless intended us to make use
of them. I have used mine ever since I was a baby, and they are not worn
out yet. I got upon my feet sooner than most children, and have kept
them to their duty ever since. I am a great walker; I have been walking
all my life. Do you know that I have walked over Europe alone, and on
foot?"
"So I have heard," said Lyndsay. "It must have been an arduous
undertaking for a lady."
"Far easier than you imagine. Women are just as able to shift for
themselves as men, if they would follow my example, and make the trial.
I have scarcely sat still for the last twenty years. There is not a
remarkable spot in Europe that I have not visited, or mountain but what
I have climbed, or cavern that I have left unexplored. Three years ago I
commenced a pedestrian tour through Great Britain, which I accomplished
greatly to my own satisfaction. When I take a fancy to a place, I stay
in it until I have explored all the walks in the neighbourhood. Directly
I grow tired, I am off. 'Tis a happy, independent sort of life I lead.
Confinement would soon kill me."
"Your friends must feel very anxious about you," said Flora, "during
your absence."
"Friends! Fiddlesticks! Who told you I had any friends who care a fig
for me or my movements? I am gloriously independent, and mean to remain
so. There is but one person in the world who is related to me in the
most remote degree, or who dares to trouble their head about me or my
doings, and he is only a half brother. He has opposed himself against my
freedom of thought and action; but I don't care that"--(snapping her
fingers vigorously)--"for him or his opinions. He has made war upon my
roaming propensities all his life. As if a woman has not as much right
to see the world as a man, if she can pay her own expenses, and bear her
own burthen, without being a trouble to any one. It is certainly no
business of his how I spend my money, or where and how I pass my life.
Not long ago I heard that he was going to issue a writ of lunacy against
me, in order to get me and my property into his possession. This is
mean; for he very well knows that I am not mad; and he is very rich, so
that there is no excuse for his avarice. Fortunately, he don't know me
personally--never saw me since I was a child--and as I never go by my
real name, it is not a very easy matter for him to discover me. I don't
like this place, but it is quiet and out of the way. I think I shall
remain where I am, till he gets tired of hunting me out. I trust to your
honour, young people; you must not betray my secret."
Both promised to say nothing about what she had so frankly communicated.
"I take you at your word," continued Miss Carr; "I like your appearance,
and would willingly improve my acquaintance. I often watched you from my
windows; and yesterday I asked Mrs. Turner who you were. Her account was
so much in your favour, that I determined to introduce myself the first
time we accidentally encountered each other. I know your names and where
you live. May I come and occasionally enjoy an hour's chat?"
"We shall only be too happy," said Flora, in spite of a warning pinch
from Lyndsay, which said, as plainly as words could have done, "She's
mad; as mad as a March hare." But Flora would not understand the hint.
She felt flattered by the confidence so unexpectedly reposed in them by
the odd creature; and vanity is a great enemy to common sense.
"Mind," said Miss Wilhelmina, turning abruptly to Lyndsay, "I don't want
to see you at my house. I'm a single woman, and, though not very young,
I'm very particular about my character. I never allow a male creature to
enter my doors. I'm not fond of men--I have no reason to be fond of
them. They never were commonly civil to me; and I hate them generally
and individually. When I come to see your wife of course I don't expect
you to hide out of the way, or peep at me through crannies, as if I
were a wild beast. I shall call to-morrow morning, and so, good day.
"Muff! Muff!--My incomparable! my perfect!--What are you doing? Frisking
beside that ugly black cur! He's no companion for a dog of your breeding
and degree. Away, you vulgar-looking brute." And running across the
road, she seized hold of a pedlar's dog, who was having a great game of
romps with her favourite, and gave it a most unjust and unmerciful
belabouring with her cane.
The pedlar, who was by no means pleased with this outrage against his
cur, now interfered.
"Don't lick my dorrg, ma'am, in that ere sort o' fashun. What harm can
that hanimal ha' done to you, or that whiskered cat-like thing o'
yourn?"
"Hold your impertinent tongue, fellow! or I'll thrash you, too," cried
Miss Wilhelmina, flourishing aloft her cane.
The man eyed her sullenly. "Maybe, you'd beest not try. If you warn't a
'uman I'd give it to 'un."
"A lady, sir," with great dignity, and drawing herself up to her full
height.
"Ladies don't act in that ere way. You be but a 'uman, and a mad yun,
too; that be what you be's."
The next moment Lyndsay expected the cane to descend upon the pedlar's
head, and was ready to rush to the rescue of the fair Wilhelmina. But
no; the lady dropped her cane, burst into a loud fit of laughter,
stooped down, patted the offended cur, and, slipping a shilling into the
hand of the angry countryman, snatched Muff to her capacious bosom, and
walked off at full trot.
The pedlar, looking after her for a minute, with his eyes and mouth wide
open in blank astonishment, and then down at the silver glittering in
his hand, cried out,--
"I knows you bees a lady now. If you delights in licking o' do'rrgs,
ma'am, you ma' thrash Bull as much as you please for sixpence a licking.
That's fair, I thinks."
He might as well have shouted to the winds; Miss Wilhelmina was out of
hearing, and Flora and her husband pursued their walk to the hall.