Annie Oakley Scrapbook

May 17, 1887. THE BAT

DIANA'S DIARY.

MONDAY.—Went Buffalo Billing at the American Exhibition. One could hardly mistake the nationality of the majority of the audience. The enormous headgear worn by the women would betray them as Yankees anywhere. One lady, doubtless hailing from the Far West, was costumed in grey alpaca trimmed with black passementerie, wore a big flop black straw hat, with a profusion of black ostrich plumes, and a most marvellously-arranged black tulle veil over her face. Americans have a marvellous knack of putting on a veil over these cumbersome hats, as French women have of wearing high-pointed bonnets, and fixing veils just to keep the wind from disarranging their fringes; Miss McGrigor looked neat in a light grey beige, embroidered in cross-stitch of grey wool, and she wore a most becoming brown bead and tulle bonnet; Mrs. Jopling, youthful and light, in grey and white; and Mrs. Conover, in black, with a drab plush mantle. We couldn't get any seats, and it was such weary work standing, that we very soon left the "circus" and on our way to inspect the camp met with the American bar. Of course Bob and Harry rushed up to sample corpse-revivers and such-like. Don't know what they had but they became vastly more agreeable afterwards. Bee and I contented ourselves with a lemon squash. It was quite excellent, and a slice of orange which they put into it seemed to soften the acid of the lemon. Then on to the camp, where, stopping for a moment before Miss Oakley's tent, we were most hospitably pressed to come in and sit down. She showed us the medals and trophies she had won, and also a darling little pistol of mother of pearl and silver; it only looked like a toy, but Miss Oakley implored me not to try and let it off at my dearest friend, if I didn't mind parting with him until the next world.

An overgrown circus sounds an awkward remark to make of the entertainment our American cousins are providing us with, but despite the fact of its being Jubilee year, and that naturally we are loving every nation and everybody, and also despite Canon Farrar's prayer, Buffalo Bill's exhibition is neither more nore less than a hippodrome on an enormous scale. All the best of if we have seen before, either at Covent Garden or at Olympia. To commence with Miss Lilian Smith. She shoots at glass balls, and as often as not misses them. Sometimes she hits them, and a roar of applause goes up from the Americans in the audience. But you can't expect English folk, even when primed with lunch and prayer, to sit solemnly gazing at a young woman smashing glass balls.

THE AMERICAN FIELD

At the conclusion of Miss Annie Oakley's exhibition in London Eng., May 5, during the visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales to the Wild West Show, Miss Oakley was invited into the royal box and presented to the members of the royal family. The Prince complimented her, and told her that she was the finest little shot he had ever seen. Afterward the Prince and Princess of Wales called on Miss Oakley in her tent and spent some time talking to her.

St. Stephen's Review

NOTHING EXTENUATE NOR SET DOWN AUGHT IN MALICE

No. 218. Saturday, May 14, 1887. Price 6d.

is a grand success. On Monday the audience which crowded the vast amphitheatre, with its 20,000 seats, until there was not even standing room, was thoroughly representative. Glancing at the boxes, we noticed one in the possession of Lady Randolph Churchill and party, then another devoted to Mrs. Brown Potter and her friends. Mrs. Brown Potter looked very charming, dressed quite plainly in black, and evidently was much interested in the proceedings of her countrymen. A regular Savoy box contained Messrs. Gilbert, Sullivan, and D'Oyly Carte; while Mr. Charles Wyndham and his following occupied another. Messrs. Toole and Thorne next caught the eye, and we remembered having seen this same couple returning from Kempton Park, when the everlasting "Johnnie" committed the atrocity of crossing the line at Waterloo Station in order to get first run on the cabs. How he would have scaled the opposite platform had not Mr. Thorne given him a leg up we cannot say. On all sides now familiar faces were visible, of all sorts of people—Mr. Augustus Harris, Mr. Oscar Wilde, Miss Marie Linden, Miss Emily Thorne, The "Shifter," Mr. Hughie Drummond, Colonel Hughes Hallett, and innumberable others. The show itself soon began, after we had had time to admire the clever open-air scenery of the Rocky Mountains and the wonderful voice of the gentleman on the rostrum who played the part of chairman.

We who have revelled in Mayne Reid's and other similar books, could not feel otherwise than delighted to see the Indians, who galloped in by tribes in grand form, for not one single hitch occurred, and they pulled up in each case opposite the spectators with really surprising suddenness. One always used to read of Indians riding up at a gallop and pulling their horses on to their haunches as they stopped, but for our part we never believed it. Now, however, anyone can go and see it done. "Red Shirt" is quite an amiable-looking man, though he is understood to have taken many scalps in his time, and most of the other Indians are genial-looking enough

The World.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 11, 1887.

The Comtesse de Paris and the Crown Prince of Denmark lunched at Marlborough House on Thursday, and a general move was afterwards made to West Kensington, where the Royal party arrived just twenty minutes before it was expected. The Princess of Wales came in a tailormade dress of fawn colour; the Princess Louise was in ruby silk and velver; and the Comtesse de Paris in black and jet, with white braided gloves. Colonel Hughes-Hallett was Master of the Ceremonies; Mr. Henry White, of the American Legation, representing Mr. Phelps, was in attendance on the Duke of Teck; and Mr. Whitley and Colonel Russell promptly conveyed their illustrious visitors over the bridge to the arena. Mr. Richmond, Colonel Cody's "pulpit orator," eloquently explained all the instructive features of the show, which was warmly applauded from start to finish. The Comtesse de Paris, herself an experienced shot, was delighted with the skill of Miss Annie Oakley, who shook hands effusively with all the Princes and Princesses. Afternoon-tea engagements were abandoned, and a general adjournment took place to the camp, where Red Shirt distributed the contents of the great white chief's cigarette-case amongst his followers; where Colonel Cody excited the wonderment of the ladies by the exhibition of Yellow Hand's scalp and his other war trophies;

THE DRAMATIC REVIEW.

The Hon. Col. Cody is a man for whom I have a considerable amount of appreciation, and, beyond doubt, he is one of the most remarkable characters of his time and country.

It is an old joke against Americans, that every citizen of the States considers the safety of the country depends to a great degree upon his own personal prowess. In regarding Buffalo Bill, one may well be excused for thinking, "What could not even a hundred such men accomplish together!" For his presence is masterful and imposing, begetting confidence and respect by his manfulness. To these physical attributes is allied a low, kindly voice, a smile as sweet as a woman's, and a gentle courtesy and polish which Belgravia itself might well envy.

It is therefore small wonder that such a man—one who almost reaches the idealism of Ouida's heroes—should have created such a furore in London society, be run after by princesses, and patronised by peers, that is, if even peers could patronise Buffalo Bill. But all this hero-worship has not turned Colonel Cody's head or made him put any side on. He is just as modest in fact, a great deal more so, than any of his own Cowboys.

As I have said, the show itself is intensely interesting and worth everyone's going to see. Perhaps the best fun is the buck-jumping performance, which made me laugh more heartily than I have done for a long time past. These Mexicans are wonderful fellows on horseback, and, indeed, Bill himself rides and shoots in a most marvellously skilful manner.

Miss Annie Oakley, too (Little Sure Shot), is a wonderful shootist. Breaking glass bottles thrown in the air, with her rifle in one hand, on her head, downside up or over her shoulder, is all one to her. She doesn't care, to use a colloquialism—it's like shelling peas to her.

THE BAT

[ED?] AS A NEWSPAPER] [FOR TRANSMISSION

[?] II.—No. [113?]. LONDON, MAY 24, 1887. Price Six

It is evident that Her Majesty's advisers do not mean this year to let her do things by halves. If it is her gracious pleasure to command a private performance of the latest edition of Sangers' Circus, they see no harm in her going a step further, and offering the hospitalities of Buckingham Palace, and the cachet a presentation is supposed to confer, to a class who cannot be considered much of a remove beyong Buffalo Bill, Red Shirt, Buck Taylor, or their respective squaws. Indeed, Miss Annie Oakley, "Little Sure Shot," has certainly ground for complaint that she was not presented by Mrs. Phelps last Wednesday, and many will want to know why some slight recognition, in the way of an invitation to the Royal Palace, has not yet been tendered to Mr. "Pony" Moore as a reward for his years of catering for the public amusement. There cannot be any difficulty in the way of these estimable entertainers being received by Her Majesty, after the publication of the recent list of persons who were so honoured last week.