Lippincotts Magazine, August, 1885 | Page 5

you would have a right to reproach me if I kept silent and
led you to think that I was being won over by your fine speeches. You
see, you don't really want a star at all. You want a wife; though military
men, as a rule, are better off single. I do thank you heartily for liking
me for myself, and all that, and I shall always remember the kind things
you have done, and our acquaintance, but you must put me quite out of
your head as a wife. I should not suit you at all. You would have to
leave the American service, and I should hate feeling I had tied you
down, and I couldn't contribute a penny toward the household expenses,
and, altogether, we are much better apart. It would not answer at all. So,
thank you again for the honor you have conferred upon me, and be--be
rather more--like other people, won't you, for the future? Auntie fancies
that I am encouraging you, and is getting very vexed about it. Perhaps

you had better go away? Yes, that would be best, I think."
Thus solicited, Captain Kendall went away, taking a
mournfully-eloquent farewell of Ethel, which she thought final; but in
this she was mistaken.
Our party did not linger long after this. Sir Robert met a titled
acquaintance, who inflamed his mind so much about Manitoba that he
decided to go to Canada at once, taking Miss Noel, Ethel, and Mr.
Heathcote; Mrs. Sykes had taken up on her first arrival with some New
York people, who asked her to visit them in the central part of the
State,--which disposed of her; Mabel was secretly longing to get back
to her "American child," as Mrs. Sykes called little Jared Ponsonby;
and they separated, with the understanding that they should meet again
before the English guests left the country, and with a warm liking for
each other, the Sykes not being represented in the pleasant covenants of
friendship formed.
"I am glad that we have not to bid Ketchum good-by here," said Sir
Robert. "Such a hearty, genial fellow! And how kind he has been to us!
His hospitality is the true one; not merely so much food and drink and
moneyed outlay for some social or selfish end, but the entertainment of
friends because they are friends, with every possible care for their
pleasure and comfort, and the most unselfish willingness to do anything
that can contribute to either. I am afraid he would not find many such
hosts as himself with us. We entertain more than the Americans, but I
do not think we have as much of the real spirit of hospitality as a nation.
The relation between host and guest is less personal, there is little sense
of obligation, or rather sacredness, on either side, and the convenience,
interest, or amusement of the Amphitryon is more apt to be considered,
as a general thing, than the pleasure of the guest: at least this has been
growing more and more the case in the last twenty years, as our society
has broken away from old traditions and levelled all its barriers, to the
detriment of our social graces, not to speak of our morals and manners.
As for that charmingly gentle, sweet woman Mrs. Ketchum, it is my
opinion that we are not likely to improve on that type of Englishwoman.
A modest, simple, religious creature, a thorough gentlewoman, and a
devoted wife and mother. My cousin Guy Rathbone is engaged to a
specimen of a new variety,--one of the 'emancipated,' forsooth; a
woman who has a betting-book instead of a Bible and plays cards all

day Sunday. He tells me that she is wonderfully clever, and that it is all
he can do to keep her from running about the kingdom delivering
lectures on Agnosticism; as if one wanted one's wife to be a trapesing,
atheistical Punch-and-Judy! And the fellow seemed actually pleased
and flattered. He told me that she had 'an astonishing grasp of such
subjects' and was 'attracting a great deal of attention.' And I told him
that if I had a wife who attracted attention in such ways I would lock
her up until she came to her senses and the public had forgotten her
want of modesty and discretion. This ought to be called the Age of
Fireworks. The craze for notoriety is penetrating our very almshouses,
and every toothless old mumbler of ninety wants to get himself palmed
off as a centenarian in the papers and have a lot of stuff printed about
him."
"I see what you mean, Robert," said Miss Noel, "and it certainly cannot
be wholesome for women to thirst for excitement, and one would think
a lady would shrink from being conspicuous in