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There I found my brothers Lampson and Hoyt employed in the "Gazette" printing-office, and spent much time with them and Charles Anderson, Esq., visiting his brother Larz, Mr. Longworth, some of his artist friends, and especially Miss Sallie Carneal, then quite a belle, and noted for her fine voice, On the 20th I took passage on the steamboat Manhattan for St. Louis; reached Louisville, where Dr.
Maynard cannot come, and Hoyt came to me in a horror of amaze yesterday to know if there were any truth in the rumor that I had caught a man coming out of Mrs. Maynard's window the other night. I would tell him nothing, and he says the ladies declare they won't go to the german if she does. Heavens! I'm thankful you are come. The thing has been driving me wild these last twelve hours.
Bob Hoyt, the foreman, shambled into Mick's lair at the time of day when the lights were burning and smoking on the circling shelf. He peered through the haze of tobacco smoke at the patrons already present, received a word from one and a stare from another, but from none an invitation to join the circle. Bob sidled up to the bar where Kennedy was impassively waiting. "Warmer out," he advanced.
"There was nothing over mother's face!" cried the lady at length. "Not a thing," acquiesced Hoyt. "I know, because I had occasion to touch her face just before I took the picture. I put some of her hair back from her brow." "What does it mean, then?" asked the lady. "You know better than I. There is no explanation in science. Perhaps there is some in in psychology."
The two stood looking at the photographs for a time. Then Hoyt pointed to the open blaze in the grate. "Throw them in," he commanded. "Don't let your father see them don't keep them yourself. They wouldn't be agreeable things to keep." "That's true enough," admitted the lady. And she threw them in the fire. Then Virgil Hoyt brought out the plates and broke them before her eyes.
Come, get ready, quick! Give me a fan." Sinking into a chair, she wiped away the cold drops which had collected about her brow. "Cornelia, I have only one day's leisure. School begins again day after to-morrow." "Well, well; one day, then. Be quick!" In a few moments Beulah was ready; and, after informing Clara and Mrs. Hoyt of her intended absence, the two entered Mr. Graham's elegant carriage.
He need not think, said Harriet's anxious manner, that he need carry the appearance of marriage so far. "But but aren't Nina and I to be in town Thursday?" she ventured, "Shopping. You can make that next week!" Richard said. He loved her confusion. "Then we surely will! Thank you," she said to Mrs. Hoyt. "Thursday, then, at eight!" the caller said, departing.
From the open door came the most tantalizing and appetizing smells of candied sweet potatoes, a browning roast, steaming vegetables. Mrs. Hoyt had run in to bring a slice of fresh-baked chocolate cake to Cora. She often brought in dishes of exquisitely prepared food thus, but Raymond had never before encountered her. Cora introduced them. Mrs.
But the yellow broncho gave one snort of fear, gathered himself in a bunch, and then, all tense, leaping muscles, made for home as only a broncho can. VIRGIL HOYT is a photographer's assistant up at St. Paul, and enjoys his work without being consumed by it.
This was as good in its way as any sketch of them could be, and affected one with the sentiment of the scene, as it is the mission of art to do. Miss Weld, Miss Carolina Townshend of Albany, Mrs. William Hoyt of Pelham and Mrs. Dewey of New York, each contributed very largely to the formation of characteristic and progressive needlework art in America.
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