AMY BOCK—ADVENTURESS.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 456, 4 May 1909, Page 4

AMY BOCK—ADVENTURESS.

THE WEDDING. It was a great day at the Nuggets the day that Miss Ottaway was married to “Mr Percy Carol Redwood,” as the following extract from the Clutha Free Press shows : “The wedding was solemniesd on Wednesday last at Albion House, Nugget Bay, Port Molyneaux, the residence of the bride’s parents.” The Free Press reporter, whose sympathies had gone out to the happy couple, says that the weather was all that heart could desire. The balmy breeze, he says, was full of the odour of flowers, and as the festal hour approached, neighbours and friends from afar began to “roll in” as the sun’s reflections from sand and sea made up a bright picture, and so on. The ceremony was cout ducted by the Rev. G. CalverBlathwyat (Anglican) with the Rev. A. M. Dalrymple (Presbyterian) assisting. After describing the dress of the bride and ten bridesmaids, the reporter tells of how the bride stood beside her betrothed “to receive the ring which is the symbol of requited love.” Then follows a description of the wedding feast. “This,” he says, “was no Arcadian repast, such as old Omar Khayam loved—a loaf of bread . . . a flask of wine . . . and thou beside me in the wilderness, but a feast to suit the palate of the epicure, washed down with the sparkling vintage of Rheims, champagne which had been nine years in the cellar-” AS SEEN BY MEN. This morning, as she walked between two detectives from the railway station to the detectives’ office, men without knowledge of her identity would not have taken the dapper individual in bridegroom grey to be a woman. Many women indeed, have turned eager eyes on less attractive men than this woman attired as a man. A front view showed a diminutive man, well dressed, neat of limb, with neater feet, and rather goodlooking. The way she had her hands stuck in the pockets of a light grey over coat was the way of a man when the wind is raw and his undergarments thin. She seemed to be holding the coat close to herself, as if to hide her figure. Her face was neat rather than pretty. A pallor enhanced its attractiveness. A back view made it almost impossible to believe that the little man between the detectives was a woman. She seemed a man. She walked with the slight stoop of a scholar, but with a firm tread. Her build was quite ordinary to anyone who did not know the truth. When one knew the facts, there were obvious peculiarities. The back of her head was a man’s, from the back rim of a light-coloured cap placed jauntily on the head to the collar of the overcoat, her head was shorn like that of a guardsman on parade, or that of a man who gets his sixpence worth from the barber every time. In a word, the woman was a man! Her walk was not womanly, which must not be taken as having anything to do with decorum. Most men know how women walk, and this woman walked more like a man fond of easy-fitting trousers.