Miss Reubena Hyde Walworth, author of a brief comedy that has come down to posterity with a deal of the perfume of permanency, was born at Louisville, Kentucky, February 21, 1867. She was the granddaughter of Reuben Hyde Walworth (1788-1867), the last chancellor of New York State, the feminine form of whose name she bore. Her father was the well-known novelist, Mansfield Tracy Walworth (1830-1873); and her mother and sister were writers of reputation. So it will be seen at a glance that Miss Walworth inherited her literary tastes legitimately.
She began by contributing poems to the periodicals, but her one-act comediette, entitled _Where was Elsie? or the Saratoga Fairies_ (New York, 1888), written before she was of age, made her widely known.
This little comedy is now out of print, and it is exceedingly scarce.
Miss Walworth was graduated from Vassar College in 1896, being poet of the class, and one of the editors of _The Vassarian_. She then taught in a woman's college for a time, when the war with Spain was declared and she determined to go to the front as a volunteer nurse. Miss Walworth was one of the higher heroines of that war. The last months of her life were spent at the detention hospital, Montauk, New York, where she rendered noble service in her country's cause. She was stricken with fever and died on October 18, 1898. Her body was taken to her home at Saratoga Springs, New York, and buried with military honors. Miss Walworth's comedy and lyrics should be republished.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. Appletons' _Cyclopaedia of American Biography_ (New York, 1889, v. vi); _A Dictionary of American Authors_, by O. F.
Adams (Boston, 1905).
THE UNDERGROUND PALACE OF THE FAIRIES
[From _Where was Elsie?_ (New York, 1888)]
Act I, Scene IV. _Enter Jack and Elsie with fairy flask and taper._
_Elsie._ Is this the room, Mr. Jack o' Lantern?
_Jack._ Yes, Elsie, this is the room where the King told me to take you and await his presence. What a pity it is the Prince--[_Stops_].
_Elsie._ Prince! what Prince?
_Jack._ Sh! walls have ears, Elsie, and, indeed, I forgot that the King had forbidden us ever to speak of him again. But I must be off to dance attendance on the Queen. Her majesty, be it said with all due reverence, is not over-sweet when her loyal subjects are slow to obey her commands. [_Exit, but immediately puts his head in the door._]
Don't forget the magical water, Elsie. [_Exit._]
_Elsie._ That's so; I had forgotten that I must drink this. [_Looks at flask in her hand._] Jack says that it keeps anybody from growing old so fast; but if you get it from the fairies on Christmas eve, the way I did, you won't ever grow old. Oh dear! I don't want to be young forever.
I want to grow up, and be sixteen. Then I'd wear my hair high, and have a long train. [_Struts up and down, but stops suddenly._] Well, I don't care, you couldn't play hop-scotch in a train. [_Looking about her._] I don't think this room's pretty, a bit. [_Catches sight of something shining on the wall._] Oh my! what's that shiny thing? Wouldn't it be fun if there were a secret door there, just like a story book! I'm going to see what it is. [_Stops._] Dear me! I forgot that horrid flask!
[_Brightening up._] Maybe it'll make me nice and old, though. I'll take the old spring water first, anyhow, and then I'll see what that thing is over there. I wonder what will happen. [_Drinks._]
Curtain.
CRITTENDEN MARRIOTT
Crittenden Marriott, novelist, was born at Baltimore, March 20, 1867, the great grandson of Kentucky's famous statesman, John J. Crittenden, the grandson of Mrs. Chapman Coleman, who wrote her father's biography, and the son of Cornelia Coleman, who was born at Louisville, Kentucky, and lived there until her marriage. Mr.
Marriott's mother, grandmother, and aunts translated several of Miss Muhlbach's novels and a volume of French fairy tales. The future novelist first saw Kentucky when he was nine years old, and for the two years following he lived at Louisville and attended a public school. From 1878 to 1882 he was at school in Virginia, but he spent two of the vacations in Louisville. In 1883 he was appointed to the Naval Academy at Annapolis, but two years later he was compelled to resign on account of deficient eyesight. He returned to Louisville where he clerked in an insurance office, the American Mutual Aid Society, which position he held until 1887, when he resigned and removed to Baltimore as an architectural draughtsman. He subsequently went to Washington, and from there to California. In 1890 Mr. Marriott joined the staff of the San Francisco _Chronicle_, and acted as representative of the Associated Press. Two years later he went to South Africa as a correspondent, tramping sixteen hundred miles in the interior, mostly alone. After this strenuous journey he returned to his aunt's home at Louisville, spending some of the time in Shelby county, Kentucky. He shortly afterwards went to New York as ship news reporter for _The Tribune_, which he held for six months. In 1893 Mr.
Marriott went to Brazil for the Associated Press on the dynamite cruiser _Nictheroy_. The fall of 1894 found him again in Shelby county, this time meeting his future wife, a Louisville girl, whom he married in June, 1895. At the time of his wedding he was a newspaper correspondent in Washington. Mr. Marriott's health broke shortly afterwards, and from January to September, 1896, he was ill at Louisville. In 1897 he went to Cuba for the Chicago _Record_. When the now defunct Louisville _Dispatch_ was established, Mr. Marriott became telegraph editor, which position he held for six months in 1898.
Although he has resided in Washington since leaving the _Dispatch_, he regards Louisville as his real home, and he has visited there several times within the last few years, his most recent visit being late in 1912, when he came for his sister's wedding. Since 1904 Mr. Marriott has been one of the assistant editors of the publications of the United States Geological Survey. At the present time he is planning to surrender his post and establish a permanent home at Louisville. Mr.
Marriott's first book, _Uncle Sam's Business_ (New York, 1908), was an excellent study of our government at work, "told for young Americans."
It was followed by a thrilling, wildly improbable tale of the Sargasso Sea, _The Isle of Dead Ships_ (Philadelphia, 1909), the scene of which he saw several times on his various journeys around the world. _How Americans Are Governed in Nation, State, and City_ (New York, 1910), was an adultiazation and elaboration of his first book, fitting it for institutions of learning and for the general reader.
Mr. Marriott's second novel, _Out of Russia_ (Philadelphia, 1911), a story of adventure and intrigue, was somewhat saner than _The Isle of Dead Ships_. From June to October, 1912, his _Sally Castleton, Southerner_, a Civil War story, ran in _Everybody's Magazine_, and it will be issued by the Lippincott's in January, 1913. The love story of a Virginia girl, daughter of a Confederate general, and a Kentuckian, who is a Northern spy, it is far and away the finest thing Mr.
Marriott has done--one of the best of the recent war novels. In the past five years he has sold more than one hundred short-stories, some fifteen serials, and his fifth book is now in press, which is certainly a most creditable record. He has published two Kentucky stories, one for _Gunter's Magazine_, the other for _The Pocket Magazine_ (which periodical was swallowed up by _Leslie's Weekly_); and he has recently finished a third Kentucky romance, which he calls _One Night in Kentucky_, and which will appear in _The Red Book Magazine_ sometime in 1913.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. Letters from Mr. Marriott to the Author; _Who's Who in America_, (1912-1913).
THE ARRIVAL OF THE ENEMY[53]
[From _Sally Castleton, Southerner_ (_Everybody's Magazine_, June, 1912)]
With her heart beating so that she could not speak, she opened the door. She knew that she must be calm, must not show too great terror, must not try to deny the enemy the freedom of the house. She clung to the door, half fainting, while the world spun round her.
Slowly the haze cleared. Dully, as from afar off, she heard some one addressing her and realized that a boy was standing on the porch steps holding his horse's bridle--a boy, short, rotund, friendly looking, with gilt and yellow braid upon his dusty blue uniform; just a boy--not an enemy.
"Well, sir?" she faltered.
The boy snatched off his slouch hat with its yellow cord. He stood swinging it in his hand, staring admiringly at the girls. "General Haverhill's compliments," he said. "He regrets to cause inconvenience, but he must occupy this house as headquarters for a few hours. He will be here immediately." He gestured toward a little knot of horsemen, who had paused at the foot of the lawn and were staring down the valley with field-glasses.
Sally managed to bow with some degree of calmness. "The house is at General Haverhill's disposal," she answered steadily. "I am sorry that I have only one aged servant and therefore cannot serve him as I should."
The boy smiled. He seemed unable to take his eyes from her face. "Oh, that's all right," he exclaimed cheerfully. "We are used to looking out for ourselves. Don't trouble yourself a bit. The general only wants a place to rest for a few hours."
"He may have that," Miss Castleton smiled faintly. After all, there were pleasant people among the Yankees. Besides, it was just as well to conciliate while she could. "In fact, he can have more. Uncle Claban is a famous cook and our pantry is not quite empty. May I offer supper to him and his staff?"
Her tones were quite natural. She felt surprised at her lack of fear; now that the shock of the meeting was over, the danger seemed somehow less.
The subaltern's white teeth flashed. "Really, truly supper at a table, with a table-cloth! It's too good to be true. I'll tell the general."
He turned toward the horsemen, who were coming toward the steps.
Sally waited, watching curiously. She felt 'Genie's convulsive grasp on her hand and squeezed back reassuringly. "Don't be afraid, dear!"
she murmured. "They're only men, after all. Try to forget that they are Yankees, and everything will come right." She turned once more to meet her guests.
On all sides of the house the busy scene was rapidly changing. The dusty cavalrymen, saddle-weary after a hard ride, were taking advantage of a few hours' halt. The troopers, gaunt, sun-burned, unshaven, covered with mud and dust, moved about this way and that. Company lines were formed, and long strings of picketed horses munched the clover, while other strings of horses, with a trooper riding bare-back, half a dozen bridles in his hands, clattered toward the creek. Stacked arms glittered in the sunlight. Men with red crosses on their sleeves established a tiny hospital tent and looked to the slightly wounded who had accompanied the flying column. Some of the Castleton fences went for farrier's fires, and his hammer clanked noisily.
The troops were too thoroughly seasoned campaigners to get out of hand, but the officers were as tired as the men, and there was no little foraging. The clusters of cherries, the yellow June apples, and the welcome "garden truck" were temptations not to be wholly resisted.
It was all new and strange to Sally and, hard as it was to see the Castleton acres trampled and overrun, she watched the busy scene with unconscious interest.
The voice of the young officer recalled her to herself. "General Haverhill," he was saying, in deference to a half-forgotten convention. "General Haverhill--Miss--?" He paused interrogatively.
The girl bowed. "I'm Miss Castleton," she said.
"Miss Castleton." The general swept off his slouch hat. "I suppose Lieutenant Rigby here has told you that we must use your house?"
"Yes, general. Will you come in?"
The subaltern interposed. "Miss Castleton has offered us supper, general," he said.
The general smiled. He was a powerful-looking man of forty; the scar of a saber gash across his face gave it a sinister aspect, but his smile was pleasant. "You are--loyal?" he questioned doubtfully. The question seemed unnecessary.
"Yes--to Virginia!" Sally met his eyes steadily.
"Oh! I see!" Quizzically he contemplated the girl from under his bushy brows. "And this is--" he turned toward the younger girl.
"My sister, Miss Eugenia Castleton."
"Ah!" The general bowed. "I suppose you, too, are loyal--to Virginia, Miss Eugenia?" he said.