The other evening I sent an arrow slam-bang into the
lantern, and broke it all to flinders. Borrowed lantern, too.
Besides, I found it made Miss Martha very nervous to have me
shooting about the house after dark. She had a friend who had a
little boy who was hit in the leg by an arrow from a bow, which,
she says, accidentally went off in the night, of its own accord.
She is certainly a little mixed in her mind in regard to this
matter, but I wish to respect her feelings, and so shall not use
another lantern."
As I have said, there were many good archers among the ladies
of our club. Some of them, after we had been organized for a
month or two, made scores that few of the gentlemen could excel.
But the lady who attracted the greatest attention when she shot
was Miss Rosa.
When this very pretty young lady stood up before the ladies'
target--her left side well advanced, her bow firmly held out in
her strong left arm, which never quivered, her head a little
bent to the right, her arrow drawn back by three well-gloved
fingers to the tip of her little ear, her dark eyes steadily
fixed upon the gold, and her dress, well fitted over her fine and
vigorous figure, falling in graceful folds about her feet, we all
stopped shooting to look at her.
"There is something statuesque about her," said Pepton, who
ardently admired her, "and yet there isn't. A statue could never
equal her unless we knew there was a probability of movement in
it.
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