Evening Star Newspaper, December 20, 1890, Page 7

LOST! DECEMBER 25th. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAB BY OCTAVE THANET. CHAPTER I. CELIA WILDER did not stop at the =" public library, as her custom was, on her way up the hill. Yet she had intended to stop. Though it was the day before Christmas, ‘Mins Celin was loaded with bundles, she still had enongh loose silver left in her pocket to pay her pawage in the electric car that creaked and whirred up the hill past her, a red blar in the winter dusk; crammed like a bee hive; how- ever, she would not ride, she would walk and go into the library for the “Crime of Sylvestre Bonard,” to be finished and left there for her today by Mrs. Rollins. 3 Indeed, she did walk as far as the library, and aused outside the door. The library is a thin, Eigh brick building, with an nahappy accident ‘a tower on one side: but Miss Celia admired because her father had given it to the town. She looked, now, with a sentiment approaching Spdegunaed ont ta quae: caked aoerece ty little shops which flared in front. One shop was » milfiner’s and the other a confectioner’s; and in the latter window was o glitter of iced cakes and sugar forms, all under the eye of a Santa Clans uprearing a Christinas tree. Had there not been this window Mias Celia would have gone in for her book, because but r this window a little girl of ‘three, in the intiest furred long coat with a mop of spun gold rings tumbled over the gray fur and bine cloth, would not have stopped to admire its splendors and the patient Swede girl with her would not have coaxed her in vain Miss Celia looked at the child with a friendly simile. Spinster as she is who has passed more than one birthday in the forties there is no liv- ing woman with a warmer heart for children. Besides had she not her own little boy waiti for her at home? Poor Eliza's child, left toher with Eliza's diamonds and a pretty legacy, five years ago. Eliza was the beauty of the Wilder family, Cetia’s own sister. She had been married in Washington (when Gen. v was in Con gress) to a rich New Yorker with weak lungs, | who could not live at home. ‘There Eliza held court for ten years, not fo 1 of her sister, ho visited her regularly er. Thi came 2 last sad winter. Eliza and her husband died within four mouths of each other and the poor little rich boy was left to his aunt. It was tix years ago. lex was only a baby, and the wrench and shock had somehow been outlived, for “the strong years conquer us,” but Celia’s faithful heart oftet ached yet. She had taken the pretty, delicate little creature and reared him with much love and some tears lest shi should miss the best course for a boy. If her father had lived ! secretary and his never-faltering’ worshiper For his sake, she who had been a handsome girl and was'a distinguished looking woman, | Lad never married. ite of many lovers. | PP Pee Se ee ‘Was born om Christmas day.” Years and years a she had taught herself nocent baby no irl, Celia had sung r about Senta Claus. Y into a shop once to seea great . Likel | enough it was to that story the child alluded. “To, think of her coming here to live fast when I was getting settled and comfortable,” thought Celia bitterly, and making no account of Mr. Brace's business. She recalled with a sick heart all the miser- able times under her fathe: petty squabbles, the venomous which her stepmother poisoned the child's heart against her, the neglect of the house and her own pitiful’ efforts to keep the surface smooth, so that her father might not be wor- ried; her father's ghastly face, the end,the ing, degrading torment of it all. “She is her mother's own daughter and I never will forgive her!" she vowed. She vowed itall the more earnestly that she felt herself shaken by the sight of the little face, so like the little face that she once had loved. Tt was relief to reach her own gate, her own door. She went in. The fire was bi in the open fireplace; the old-fashioned red plush and damaek of the chairs: the pretty farniah- ings, the etchings on the walls and the detaille that’ poor Eliza left her, how friendly and bright they looked coming out of the dark bill. Reggy and Maddox, his nurse, bad their heads close together over a table anda a Maddox folded the paper just as Mise entered. “And it must be put up the chimney, Mad- dox,” says Master Reggy very earnestly, “you ight address it to Santa Claus, care of ‘the chimney, you know.” Maddox. in the most matter of fact way, iting | would have thrown the note in the fire, but Celia arrested her. ” “Til put it up the chimney for you, dear,’ said she. She was glad to get off her street dress. She always dressed for her late dinner. Like the dinner the soft black silks that she wore were a relic of the old Washington state. When she came down she sat in the great carved arm chair and let Reggy crumple her retty dark hair and pull her little ears (a funny caress of his) at his lordship’s pleasure. Half dreamily she enjoyed his affection and the music of his small, rippling voice. Suddenly, without any warning: “Aunty, can't never have a little sister,” no Reggy,” rather startled, “I smp- Then the sighed and stroked hie ‘ou know you have two little sisters in heaven.” Master Reggy squirmed and kicked the chair as he exploded. “i don't care for them; | they ain't no company for me. I want a little sister that can play bi ‘ied his aunt, almost push- | ing him from her; “when did you ever seo inet, Mie death, she’ lived slenein th old | Gracie Brace?” house that her father had left her and diued with the family portraits until Rex cam: Remembering Rex now. she smiled again on the little girl, saying in her gentle highbred voi you want something in here, dearic: want to doin and talk to Santa Cla said the little laly very composedly. y mamma did talk to Santa Claus one day in a stor must take car; Mrs. Brace, sie not like it ‘Miss Wilder's face changed at the name, and | her hand dropped off the little shoulder. ’ She | said coldly that a car was coming, and, without making any farther remark, turned and went | up the hill, too absorbed ‘in some sudden thought to remember her book, or even to notice Mrs. Rollins, who had come up pafling a litde with “The Crime of Syivestre Bonar¢ “Sie mnst go home,” the maid interposed. | ‘Why, I've seen her lots and lots of times— anyway four times; and I've played in her ¥ Miss Celia gasped. She did not answer Rex: she could not. This must be stopped; but over the best way to stop it she must need meditate: so, silent, and knitting her long, slim fingers, Celia frowned at the fire. Rex went on with his thoughts: “Aunty, | nia Claus give me a sister for Chris mas. I'd rather havea sister than a donkey. “No, Kex dear, ne one can giv Rex looked Vie had never known bis | aunt to deceive him. His little lip twitched, the tears gathered in his wide brown eyes. In achildish gust of passion like a flash he tore | the crumpled little note that he had given his aunt and that she was still holding out of her fingers and I don’t are anythi Mrs. Uollins was a little, “plump, white | mas, neither, and I won't give him his note!” s woman, with pretty toilets and a ap= Celia captured the note—it had ouly reached red a soft. timid and possibly filly dove, | the tiles of the hearth—and mat she was sufficiently acute. ‘The Re deus Graves Rollins, her husband, was recto: the parish to which Mias Wilder liberall subscribed. She went ev y, twice to church: she attended the week-t: services in Lent, but sb ehureh. Why?’ That telling Mrs. Dubarry, the librarian, while Miss | Celia tramped more sud more wwiftly up the | ill “She hurried off so quick that I couldn't make her hear,” ssid Mrs. Rollins between | panta, unloosening her sealskin. pocket. Then the clasped the littie quivering, ang-y boy creature und whispezed: isn’t Santa Claus’ fault. Nobody can It_was one of those logical avalanches that children are always puiling down on our head: Miss Celia crawled out with the usual craven | evasion. “Reggy, it would be a miracle, and there are no miracles nowadays. “What's miracle?’—busy with his aunt's “Why, I se ¢ her tulkieg to Mrs. Brace’s little 1 ear and twisting it so that he hurt her—“and girl only a minute ago,” said Mrs. Dubarry, a | why can’t they bave ‘em nowaduys?” n stranger in the place. a reserved, dark wot More craven evasion from Miss Celia. whe had known enough hardship and turmoil | dear, you are too little to understand, when to be thankful for this quiet harbor. “Ah, that was it, Betty.” (Mra. Dubarry was an old friend of the rector’s wife.) “I do be- lieve she dida't know and then somebody told | her.” | he was so woful in his diseppointment and per- “Know what, Jane’ “Know her own niece. That child is Miss Wilder's niec Vhy shouldn't she know he: ell, it is a longish story, and the placard ‘Do not talk’ you know.” -ertainly, perhaps we would better not,” said Mrs. Dubarry, timidly, with a thought for the bosrd of trustees and the mites at home and how mach ti eaut to her. “There's nobody said Mra. Rollins, Who stood in less awe of the trustees, kn wing - “Lthink here is about the only m't crowded. Well. being here so much and all. foot in it with you get older I will tell you.” “Tell it tome so I cai understand, like you did “bout the ‘lectrie cars Tean't,” seid Miss Celia, truthfully. But lexity that she did not abandon the subject. Fike a wise woman, but parleyed with bits snd tangled herseif up in explanations and futile consolations, to the effect that little sisters did not come grown up and able to play, but, at first, were unpleasant red babies who could do nothing but cry. ight the consolation up with a round mit nty, that isn't alwa; tle new sister. | V's now, and she’s four years old and rele. . she is alittle adopted sister. gey bad y of letting ‘O"” when his mind was eneral and Was our member of Congress until | ¢ died: would have been our Senator if he | bad lived. Miss Ce nght him the greates: man on earth. Well, Wilder had two wives: dhe got along comfortabl; ‘one (Celia’s mother). ei was fifteen, and he married | is sympathy and to being considered a n't bow down and wor- rhe was wait result was, they quarreled. child, a girl: she was ten about twenty-eight when ihe crash came aud | the pair s« ‘d; exactly but there lier sister.” | id Mrs. ou know the child naturally would | « mother.” . that wasn't the whole story. As the girl grew up her father wanted to sce “her and | she sided with her mother and kim, and it waa very horrid indeed! The say that he sent for her when he was dying aud she wouldn't come. I don't know.” “Did he leave her any property?” said Mrs. Dabarry, who, p: was so poor that she | y ‘ield's?” ft rered that you could take ans é ou liked whose parents on have he Hh,” and said not another word | ‘hen he came to his pray- . good little boy as he q | was all throngh dinner and the evening) he addi a origina ome ‘Please God, | a lite ‘dopted sister that can ride it was one of he felt how hard it was to de- course for a boy. stairs she took ont Keggy’s note to Senta Claus. Ona very smudgy and erumpled per was writte aNta Cavs: I want a little sister and M - when he drives aunty ants an easier pluce where they have dinner in the twiddle of the day, but I guess she was mad when she said | that, so you don’t need to mind, but she truly wants a photograph album. Mrs. Feretzle wants | a tea kettle; the cover has come off of hers and y English, so she can't b 2 town, but you can talk Swedish, can And I want a little sister most of all. could not help conside money any more | Madd nts a good little boy, too, like aunty. than ahe could help breathing. “Yes, that was the odd part of it He left ber almost as much as be left Celia.” lia must have $200,000." other? second girl that never saw Santa | Claus, wants a new cap and an umbrella, and | please don’t forget I waat a little sister. Ma but I write my name myself. “Poe ae ab,” raid Miss Wilder ten- der! hope he will forget about the sister “She married too, and has come here to live. | and be content with Lis donkey and the t; You know her, it is Mrs. Brace. “And that was her daughter? ‘Yes, her only child. Tt does seem a wicked thing for two sisters to be living within « stone's | th yw of each other and never xpeakiny wd if they meet, what do they do’ ch other like strangers. gether at « church sociable introduce them" — What did they do? Mise Celia drew herself up and said: ‘I mus’ decline to know Mrs. Brace’—like that, and turned on her heel; while Mrs. Brace went all surts of colors. I wag told that she was willing to be introduced bet Celia is obstinate. You've heard about her wanting to join the church no, of course you haven't; well she did, and Xo, she wouldn't join the church. afraid she would go to the Cathedral or even w some other denomination. 1 wanted Tad to be a little kind to her, but you know what he is about what he calls matters of principle. No, he wouldn't yield a jot; q things out of | the Bible. e Bible. Wed, he was right, but I can't Took at quite so independently. And she Coase A went to church and subscribed just the writer his uncle has sent him.” Now the other things—I believe [ have everything except the teapot. How like Maddox to never say a word for herself. I hope she'll like her dress. ‘Thus thinking, she called Maddox to consult with ber about the teakettle. Generally Maddox, from long and carefal “knowing her place,” locked no ‘more expres- sive than the wooden woman who comes out to announce pleasent weather in some toy barom- eters; buttonigat there wasadab of red on each cheek and a queer, flickering brightness am her pale eyes. “Miss Celia, T'was coming to tell you," she Degan in her ordinary voice, but her hands were plucking at her apron, “there is some— news [* “News!” repeated Miss Celia, while her heart went secking timorously for "possible loss or sorrow: for this is the cruel ghost of afiliction, that we shall ever afterward be afraid. hat 'tis like you won't approve, Miss Celia,” Maddox continued stol- idly. “iknow Mrs. Brace's nurse girl. I knew her before she went to Mrs. Brace, she being Mrs. Feretzle’s sister, and so she’ sometimes comes here of an evening. And she was bere this evening. And I let her talk about her mis- tress.” hat was wrong, Maddox,” said Miss Celia, with dry lips. “Yes, ma'am, but the subject came up unbe- had | knownst tome. She says Mra. Brace is a very we. house was @ square house, the roof of which for apex & cupola. In front of the house was « wide veranda and it was set far back in a deep lawn and old-fashioned garden, where kind lady.” mourning now and—it's for Dead! A wicked woman Celia believed her, the ehrysanthemums were only a little done bloom- | but her sins were. gone ing. now, the long hill before her, the | wkere the cleanest of souls must need mercy. behind her, straightened below into White sparks of light The “God forgive her!” said Celia. about trains. It He did it till the hour before he died, for Miss Celia never showed him the telegram she got.” “Yes, I remember,” said Maddox, who had rd the lenty of times before. But it for Lizzie, the other auditor, ‘Didn't Miss Celia ever show 2” said she. “No, but I know. I knew the telegraph man and he told me. a not another word. he died,” said Lizzie in an awe-struck “and without seeing her? Goodness, Yes, but the last words he said before he fell asleep, and he never rightly did wake up from that sleep. was to give little Gracie his love. He was sorter wandcring then and kept think- ing she was just a little thing.” ins Celia give her his lore?" “You better b'lieve she didn’t,” suid Teena, energetically; “nor meneither if I'a been in her And I don't blame her if she never she was so young,” w merciful Maddox, “and you and [know, Teena, rls is awful fools. hers in the kitchen discussed her tragedy, while alone over the gray ashes of the fire Miss Celia watched all night through with her memories. She went back mazrels. Did they look ¢o unpardonable now t the Flight creature that had caused them was past all mischief-makinj ‘Vain, seltish, ignorant, playing man’s honor as if it were tinsel, takin hysterics and her bed whenever her husband yihing, ‘dying into tropi and equally tropical remor: ous of little Grace's affection for her ister, and utterly reckless in her wiles to win the devoted to Grace, a creature without a conscience surely, but not er liked her, I could not like her anywhere,” «tid Celia honestly, been kinder to her.” Andeven theend did not seem so incon- ceivably black as before. What could this brilliant little ercole, who the principles of the two p: nbiie honesty or public honor? She took the tremendous bribe offered her qui until she perceived her husband's —he extricated his wife at the expense of his own stainless reputation. without a heart. and ‘lectric cars with | “but I might ha er could keep distinct, know a Celia forgiven her until now. nce, Grace was diferent. her mother's daughter, so, too, was she her h his very eves and smile, his very | courage, Celia knew well (for do you suppose she had hot listened eagerly to the talk about Listencd, looking the other way and not seeming to hear), his honor and his pride. ‘The chimes were ringing again: “Star of wonder, star of might, tar with lor ous beanty t est Guide Us to the perier Miss Cecia knelt down sobbing, “I can't feel it is right to forgive her, 1 can’t! Ican't!” CHAPTER If. Reggy’s donkey and cart were waiting for him in the morning; so was his miniature type- writer, as well asa gaudy company of books and in the first rapture of his riches he seemed to have forgotten any other desi It is true there was one dampening moment when he stood searching every corner of the room, in a single, blank, it was only a moment: he said not a we then be wat off for his donkey, howling and skipping with joy. Misa Celia (who looked pale, though smiling) went away to church quite relieved about him. Privately, T think Miss Celia would have given a pretty penny to the poor box could she thus have purchased leave to stay at home. She dreaded the leisure to think, the music, with its memories, the softening influences of’ the sea son. Miss Celia did not want to be softened, sho | wanted to be hardened. the talic if sucha regular attendantstayed away, and there were the Rollins’ invited to dinner, lia donned her black velvet gown and diamond brooeb and kerchict over them But there would be | fastened her lacee with hi put a large whi ve air of gloves out of stehet, and she went to church How much or how little the service and th mamma got | sermon did for Miss Celia’s soul I canaot say as,'cause Lheard | but I know that she fixed her mind stern! a yesterday, “You ean get everything | ce : would let her | the greatest of these. Rollins’ were lato in ule; the reason for whi. ‘ed, in spite of Mrs. Rollins’ 2 sens, Misg Wilder, ra, Dubarry was just tell- hes been kid- joining her in the ta turned his mild, inquiring countenance on his | She certainly was not so conscientious ashe, | ked him if he wasu't on her skirt— ¢ was nowhere near, and then took the business out of his hands. atall,” thought Mrs. Rol- he'll want, to he It is the most mysterious thin, . er was walking up and down the bill with her—just to let her try her new tricycle— ost opposite their ow how the hills slove u and how far back y it from the sidewalk—well, do you ‘kn wanted to run home a minute to t something or other to show a playmate that y dear, she ran up that asphalt drive, with her father watching shadow of the stone porch— dark it is with those heavy pillars and the arch and all; she ran there—and that was the last “{ don't understand,” said Miss Celia, “‘shan't ‘They walked on, Dr. Roili * “Mr. Brace of course thought the child In the house they supposed she He met-—well, Miss Wilder, whom he met and we chatted togeth: He is a very cul fellow, Mr. Brace (Dr. Rollins could not’ resist the opportunity) and not bit spoiled by his Tlike to talk to him. After he left me ied to the house and then, for the first ime, discovered that the child'was missing. io one had seen her since she left with her ‘There was instant search and inquiry. ing was found. Only, as nearly as. the could calculate at the time of Gracie’s disap , a veiled woman in @ long cloak was ng about the yard.” don’t believe ‘she ‘took the child,” said ple don't rig themselves u ‘when they are going to kid- nestions, but inwardly it been any other wo- man in the town she would have sent Feretzlo offers of sympathy and aid. Now she t. She let the talk rock does not resist high tide. At dinner the very servants were She could cateh, whis try. Elna, the Swedi at, the kitchen in passin, in his tuen, ex- vated, noble yor jiss Celia asked no she was in a flame. flow over her, as a re in the batiere pace | the hal nurse maid, bad st 4 to tell her story of . "The police were the town and the two towns across the very house in the neigh! ited, every foot of the Braces’ house hed. While they sat at table, ive hundred dollars offered. Th all over the cit turned cuore Mire the Celia felt her heart contract; she remembered her father in emergencies; 80 he used to act; this was his true daughter. Insensibiy she felt her ‘stony control gi way under the tide of sympathy. She aske questions: “Who was the playmate that Grace thought she saw? Couldn't they discover some- thing from him?” ““[ believe there is s chance there,” cried Mrs. Rollins, “‘wouldn’t know? Where is he?" Now had behaved very queerly. He had been keen to sit at the table with his aunty up to that very day. yet immediately before dinner he had ‘sidled up to whisper that he didn’t want to go to the table, he wanted to stay out with his donkey. He so carefully avoided giving his aunta rear view of his ron that she suspected some grievous mis- p to is best clothes; suspicions that grazed certainty during dinner, when she heard ‘eena's voice uplifted wrathfully through the jouldn't wonder if he hassat down in the g!” thought Miss Celia. x a tumultuous dinner known in that well-ordered household; the immaculate Maddox forgetting her cap, Lizzie trying to ponr champagne out of a corked bottle, sounds of wreck and crash twice emerging from the kitchemt. * 3 . Ordinarily Miss Celia’s decorous soul would have writhed at such service; now she hardly noticed it; her whole being was shaken by dis- tracting em: ity. anxiety, clinging re- sentment, long-silent instincts of’ kinship, and, stronger and stronger all the time, a frightened tenderness for the little helples child, her very own little niece. minute ele was shivering in some ghas Something rose in her thront to choke hei she could not eat; the wine that she drank fever- ishly might have been water. When Mrs. Rollins proposed questionin, Reggy it was as if the strained cords snapped, neither pride nor anger could hold her heart in their leush any longer. “Yes. Mrs. Rollins,” she said, lifting her head with a look on her faded’and delicate features strangely like the expression of the inted general above her, “let us have Reg, in. Please ealt him, Maddox. And then—I know our friends will i your tb: The Rol Mrs. Rollins felt pale with excitement, and the rector cleared his throat. ‘The pause (while they waited for Reggy’s ap- pearance) was something painfal. Miss Celia kept her composure like a soldier. ppose Reggy is out with his donkey,” said , in precisely her usual voice, only it was pitched a key lower and had the effect, in its distinct enunciation of being held. “He is be- witched with the beast. Ican't keep him away from the stable. ut isn’t it cold there?” said Mrs. Rollins, fartively glancing at the darkening street and thinking how cold it was for a little ehild. She hardly heard Miss Celia’s answer that the stable wae heated. Miss Celia hersolf stumbled, stopped. “Maddox, where is Master Maddox had entered alone. ver mind, fetch him in; you will kindly excuse accidents,” with her inextingnishable politeness, ‘tell Teena’ Aclamor outside, beginning with a plain bellow of rage from Muster Reggy and dwind- ling into furious whispers caught the words off her Ji said Dr. Rollins mildly, “that in the little boy by force.” “Excuse me.” sai Celia.“ She rose and went to the door, no further, because in the hall Teena was dimly visible pulling Regg: the arm. Reggy memvhile making «p play with his }°gs, whimpering and de! a brea haven't got to mind you; I won’ mind you; I never will ran and tell the buteher man to stop for you again if you don't let me Please let me go; please, please, I'l be be “If you don't quit erving and kicking,” saya the relentless Teena, “they'll hear you in the self? She may well ask. No wonder Reggy shrinks from society and the dining room gaslight— the beautifui blue velvet front of him is be- ed with cream only partially removed by the dixhcloth ! “He's tipped the ico cream over on himself from greediness, ma'am,” says Teena, severely, while the wretehed his . Kes, Reggy, you know jis here's the fourth time you've come in for things to eat. A whole = of grapes and the ginger and prunes and hree saucers of ice cream I saw with my own and turkey and salad and two of them paper eases with oysters! If Mra. Feretzle wants to give a party when she knows the fam- ily’s in attfiction she'd ought to get her own tuals with her own money, { say! Yes, , he pulled the ice cream over him, he Vbo is it for then?” says Miss Celia. Regey i head in her gown; the answer comes in sobs: “It—it's—for—my little 'dopted sister!” Four women at once cried or screamed or | groaned at hin—Mrs, Rollins, Lizzie. Teena now,” said got to erying for her mamin mall the morning in the stable with me and the donkey. And then I tooked her to Mrs, Feretzle's—aud—nnd it was her dinser I was getting. But she feels b: (says she wants to go home, But maybe if I er the typewriter she'll stay. nd wha; is your sister's name, Reggy?” Gracie Brace, of course,” said the young pirate. “Sante Claus wouldn't give me ny “dopted sister, so 1 tooked her.” Not then, but afterward, they learned all about it, how Gracie had ren Reggy and run the house to him and been lured away to be his little sister and see his donkey. The cart was in waiting and he hid her wider the robes and drove home unobserved. Home they played in the stable where there was no one but the horses to see them, and finally he carried her to Mrs. Feretzie, who was happily ignorant of all the commotion, having been out in the street when Elna aud her bu She accepted her without ques- le visitor of Reg "s simple theory thataftera tong seemed to him ‘ages since the the donkey—he might display his nd coax his aunt tokeey her. All this story came later. ‘Then there was only ove im- alse among the women,which eaught them u ike a cyclone und swept them through the hall, over the lawn to the little cottage back of the stable. Oh, the sweet small face at the lighted win- dow with the homesick tears on the roseleaf cheeks: and ob, the sweet emall voice exclaim- ing, “Mamma will tum pretty soon! Papa will tum pretty soon I think half the witnesses wery crying. They fell back and let Miss Celia take lier. ‘Thus Miss Celia met her niece again, but this time she lifted her in her arms and ‘kissed her and sobbed inarticulate tendernesses in her ear. “I suppose samie one onght to telephone to her mother,” suggested Dr. Rollins in » meek voice. “Yes,” said Miss Celia. And still holding the child in her arms she walked across the dark lawn back to the house and through the hall. No one ventured to speak to her or to offer to help her with ker burden. She rang the bell and hersclf called Mrs. Brace. Then they beard her answer to an in- audible voice, ‘It is I, Celia Wilder; Gracie is here.” With the word. she lifted’ the little head to the trampet mouth, “Call Gracie, call loud!” she whispered, ‘‘cali mamma !' The sweet, high, little voice echoed through 1, “Mamma! mamma! come and get Gracie “The lamb!" cried Lizzie, weeping on one of the dinner napkine “Oh, Tad, think of her poor mother,” Mra, Rollins whispered in her husband's ear, “when she beara that!” ee “And think of you being such a wic! > Rogey, ato kidvap hes’? cried “Teens, OBS always felt herself a sort of policeman of virtue, At this Reggy, dazed before by the rush of events and the inexplicable conferred a favor on them so Teena thinks, does justice slip sometimes!) were all in the dining room. Miss Celia had insisted on the young who had eaten nothing all that ‘frightful an impromptu mea rward nde inevitable constraint by a “And these portraits?” said he, “I recognize Gen. Wilder" ea His wife's face made him risen and gone up to the canvas and was stand- tears slowly gathered in her id Brace, in adifferent tone, “there it in better to ezy. You do not un- oor child bas hunted up has standing before and trembling, ice rp fe. I am going to tell, Grace,” enid he y; “Celia, Grace knew nothing about her father's sickness when she sent that telegram. Madame de Ravilluc persunded her that her father wanted to get her into his power and had sentan invitation che did net show the telegram) to her to come. They were to leave Chi New York and Ew time Grace believed hed her chair bac! the nextday. At that she was told about Gen. “But my letter to her giving her my father's last message?” eaid Miss Celia. She put both hands on the chair to steady” herse! Brace hid her face and sobbed. “My wife found that mother’s papers,” said Clarence Brace, gravely. ‘There was silonce. The children looked on dead,” said Celia. itter, sweet, strange mo- tears and kisses on her letter among her ‘Through walls and windows came the sharp clang of a bell and a hoarse shout, “ cember 25th——' ving Gracie still om it seemed quite miraculous that since her baby was safely town should not know it. “Do claimed Mrs. Brace, found the whole said Mise Celia emiling through mu could have them cry instead: “Lost r 25, a family feud.” {tae Exp.] Copyrighted, 1890, by the Authors’ Alliance. rights reserved, ———o+-—____ FOR OUT OF DOORS. Redfern’s Costumes for Young Ladies who Skate. How long ago it seems, though in truth but a score of years, since our young women formed themselves upon an ideal of fragile delicacy and believed that to be charming they must exhibit & waxen pallor of complexion untouched by tan or freckle, a wasp like waist, with the mere- est suggestion of eny curves either above or below, pinched or cramped hands and feet, and pearance of ethereal nelplessness. ‘ears all this is changed, and it is the every healthy minded, sensi to extend her physical growth in all dire and by means 0: and various athleti. icture of sple fresh air, out d tid feminine development. 'o obtain this result in the summer is an casy nt task but it is somewhat difficult condition through the winter and However, she who has ray to plenty of vigorous exerciae even in the cold blastering days, for she can either walk, ride, eail in an ice boat, And when she wearies of ice skating, or when therc ix none, she may follow the example of her English ins, and take to the rink and the roller gain firm muscles and a gracefnl carraige. Jn order to fully enjoy her- though, she mast have a j : jaunty costume, one are the following, direct from the atelicr of the Redfern artist. ‘The first cut shows a ske: rdered with mink. Over the v fort of polonaive of lighter green cloth braided velvet, banded the shoulders with mink, a arrow roll of wich el odges the collar. THE EVENING STAR: ‘WASHINGTON, D.C. SATURDAY, ‘DECEMBER 20, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES. ‘married | at last accounts she was exhorting the pris- WALKS ABOUT LIMA. Some of the Lights of the Ancient Spanish Capital. ITS HOUSES AND CHURCHES. Many Beantifal Women and How They Are Arrayed—The Sunday Sport of Bull Bait- ing—The Plazas, Public Buildings and ‘Monasteriee—Inquisition Reminiscences. bed SOJOURNER within these gates finds it difficult to believe himself living in the lat- ter part of the nineteenth century, so strongly doall the surroundings savor of vice-regal days. Those vice kings of Spain left their finger marks upon everything and there is hardly a street, park, public garden, church or government building that was not named, planned or erected by one of them. Beginning with great Plaza Mayor, or Principal square, which covers nearly nine | English acres, we find that the handsome stone fountain in its center, surmounted by a bronze statue representing Fame, was built in 1653 by order of a viceroy. One of the earliest viceroys erected the enormous cathedral that faces one ride of this plaza, with its facade painted red and yelléw, its three green doors ands tower at each angle. For nearly three centuries its altarswere burdened with gold and silver and jeweled articles of church serv- ice and ornament, untilu few years ago, when most of its treasures were appropriated and converted into money by a uecd¥ republican | government. In its dark crypt tone Gofin of Pizarro, the conquerer, and another containing the remains of his rascally relative, Gonzalo Pizarro. The enterprising tourist may go down and explore the grucsome place by the dim flicker ofa tallow dip, and if he is curiously enough inclined, by the payment ofa moderate sum to the sacristan, the stone cover will be removed from the more import- ant coffin and the crumbling bones of the Great conquistador exposed to view. PIZARRO'S OLD PALACE. Another side of the same square is occupied by a rather mean-looking building, with small shops beneath it, which is no less than the old palace where Pizarro ruled with a high hand during his brief day here, and where he was assassinated by ‘the men’ of Chili.” who appointed themselves the avengersof Almagro's murder, Its upper part still serves as a gov- ernment “palacio” and is occupied by various officers of the new regime. The long, straight streets that diverge from this central square and run at right angles have an appearance of age and solemnity not | borrowed from the frail structures that line them on either side. As earthquakes are momentarily expected and the city stands in the very heart of the rainless region its pecu- liarities” of architecture are largely thes out- growth of local causes. More substantial structures of brick or stone could not so well resist the convulsions of nature, and the taller and more top-heavy they were the greater would be the danger to their inmates: there- fore the buildings are generally of ove story dom more than two, and of the lightest materiais that can be made to hold together. One can hardly believe that the apparently massive towers and buttresses of the extensive churckes are merely great wicker baskets, de- ceptive combinations of canes and poles, tied together with thongs, plastered over with mud and painted, but such is the case. Some of them are elaborately stuccoed and look like splendid structures of carved stone, but one 5 summer shower, such as our ‘northern are subject to, would reduce them ail to tons as bare and ghastly as that of ‘the late Mr. Pizarro” in his stone bed under the cathedral. NO SUCH THING AS A CHIMNEY. As the absence of rain renders pitched roofs unnecessary, the coverings of the houses are fiat, often made of poles, over which is spread a matting of shredded cane, supporting a layer of ashes and dried grass, intended toabsorb the dampness of the fogs. More commonly, how- ever, the roofing is of boards overlaid with adobe; and one is struck by the fact that in all Lima, and, indeed, in all South America, there is not such a thing as a northern chimney! Notwiths their airy framework, the ‘did not ignore the architectural traditions of their Moorish and Castilian ances- tors. The largest casas of the wealthiest ple show little more than bare, bl:nk walls out- side, with few windows on the ground floors, and those all heavily barred with iron, each honse with one huge folding door, which opens flush with the pavement of the street and leads into the patio or inner court yard, with its foun- tain and flowers and shrubs, into which all the living rooms open. The barred windows are relics of early days in old Castile, when pre- cautions against bandits were a constant neces- sity: and they have served equally well in this country, during the time of the viceroys, against hordcs of pirates from the sea and bands of robbers from the mountains, and in later days against revolutionists. MORE MODERN HOUSES. The more modern houses are two-storied and these always have balconies, regular Romeoand Juliet retreats, whose golden opportunities for flirtation are by no means neglected. Wherever there is an upper story, the lower one is seldom used for living purposes, but is generally given over to stabling the horses. storing the car- ringes, servants’ quarters, &c.. or is rented room by room to as many small shopkec It is not at all uncommon to tind a family of high degree and great social pretensions, longing to that exclusive inner circle of uppe tendom. than to guin admittance whereto it would be catier for x camel to go throagh the eye of a needle, residing above a butcher's stall, with strips of raw beef, half-dissected Pigs, sausoges and cntrails festooned in bold relief, while near the main entrance a cobbler sits at his bench pegging the coarse shoes of ios pobres, znd a woman squats in the frout door, with a ketile of odorous fat sizzling over a charcoal brazier, fryiny a vile combination of fish, tlesh, fowl and garlic made up into little pies, which she sells to passers-by. THE FAVORITE PROMENADE. The two sides of the Plaza Mayor are ocen- pied by portales, with shops behind them. or to be more expiicit, by buildings whose street fronts are faced by pillared corridors roofed in a long series of arches. These portales are the favorite promenade of the ladies of the city, and therefore, as a matter of course, of the gentlemen alao. At all times and seasons one may meet here the beauty and fashion and “flower” of Lima, as well as the extremes of riches and poverty, pride and squalor, that make up the variegated life of this old’ city. ‘The shops are small, but Fu with handsome goods, and in them one may find nearly every article of fashion and luxury which the largést stores ot Europe and the United States can chow. They are nearly all kept by foreigners, French predommating, Germans coming next in line, then a few Italians and Englishmen. Some of the finest faney goods stores are owned and managed by Chinese merchants, who enjoy the monopoly of trade in embroidered mantas and sill dresses. There are three or four estab- ishments conducted by merchants from the United States, and the honse of the Grace proper by a arch, painted in fantastic | colors and clock: but it long since went the way of other unsubstantial structures. A QUAINT OLD TuEATER. The quaint olf theater, which nowadays serves for a swell Italian opera houge, was built by another viceroy more than # hundred years ago. Itsalleged “boxes,” which are mere empty Jong fight of ontsicde «tairs leading to this ai corridor. ‘The splendid Pantheon (cemeter: Just outside the city limita, was laid out by Other viceroy, Abascal, in the year 180% many costly monuments and well-kept flower beds. The vaults are built up in the walls, like rows of ovens, tier above tier, each mumbered inorder. Most of them are rented for a xtated number of years, payment, of course, being in end of the term the coffin, with whetever it may yet contain, is summarily evicted. TRE SPORT OF BULL BAITING. Another viceroy laid out the beautiful Ala- meda (“grove of elms” or public paseo) and also built the bull ring. The latter ix well worth visit, though bull fights are now of comparatively rare occurrence, say half adozen in course of a year. Tt ix an immense circular inclosure of old rose-tinted adobe, by seats rising tier above tier, above as in the theater, the latter being en of stairs running up outside the The fashionable entertainment is what is known as bull baiting” and always takes pince on Sun- 8. The bull is not killed, aa in Spain, Mex- ico and some other countries, but is simply tor- | mented for the sport of the popalace. | Gener | ally the young bloods of society do the “bait- ing.” and it is looked upon as a very high- toned, athletic sort of pastime, something }like Cricket matches in England or polo ai fewport. The eenoritas decorate tin darts with lice and ribbon rosettes and give (of the bull. The great feat is to stick these | darts into the face or the foreshoulder of the ral, and in order to do so the in front of bis horns. No horees are disemboweled in these performances, but it now and then happens that a gentle maiden has the excitement of seeing her active | Young lover gored to death. Many years ago an attempt was made to suppress bull fighting to it and ma: of the best people, the “ruling jon” was yet too stro mn the ‘ninds of late the Sunday pastime by law and to confine it to a single building erected for that purpose. The regulations aforesaid comprise several chapters, and the official code is about twice as long as the constitution of the republic. BEAUTIFUL LADIES OF LIMA. As all the world knows the ladies of Lima are proverbial for their beauty. Such large, liquid, “sonifal” eves: such rosebnd lips and pearly teeth; such dainty hands and feet and Founded arms and gracefal figures, it would be | earth. A comparatively few of the more ultra fashionable wear modern hats and bounets for | state Occasions, but the vast majority still cover their glosey black tresses with the lace mantilla or black tants of silk or woolen. The latter is the only corzect thing for church wear among young and old, rich and poor: and a bonnet Would no more be allowed during service than agentletan at the north would be expected to come to the communion altar with his hat on his head. “But the mantas are no longer put on as formerly, ao that only one eye of the wearer is visible, but are disposed with more or less coquettith effect, and are vastly more becoming to the Castiiian ‘type of beauty than the moet elaborate triumphs of French inillinery. When properly worn the manta makesmeal-bag shapes look fragileand bean-pole figures assume grace- ful contours, and not only disguises detective features, lending to the most commonplace face n picturesqueness akin to beauty, but, like charity, it covers a multitude of sins in’ the way of uncombed heir, rents, dirt and shabby attire. Some of the embroidered mantas of black crepe are extremely from $100 to £500, the amount of silk embroid- cry upon it mdicating the wealth of the wearer. Ordinary mantas, such as the majority wear, are simply large squares of soft black cashmere ling and can be bought for from | is imported from England, at 2 cost of €3 or &4 apiece, for the Indiau and’ negro women, CHURCHES AND MONASTERIES. Lima boasts of no fewer than 126 Catholic churches, besides a round dozen monasteries and convents, all of them establithed by repre- sentatives of the Spanish crown. Outwardly none of them are particularly striking, except for their gaudy coloring and exces aps the most imy one, aside from the t catbedral, is the church and adjacent peo- | monastery of Sen Francisco, which was built in 1586 and is raid to have cost $15,000,000—tmore than the Capitol at Washington. It coverna large tract of ground near the bank of the Rimse. Its gardens (of which we caught a glimpse through the open door, petticoats, of course, not being adinitted,) are lovely beyond description. The whole interior is covered with the most beautiful tiles—many acres of them—whic turies and still surpass the best that modern genius can produce. In this convent the monks rese:ve the bed on which Sait Francis died, is sandals, rosary. sackcloth robe and the coftin in which his body was carried to Rome. Then there is the church of San Domingo, remarkable chie@y because dedicated to Santa toaa—la Patrona de tolas las Americas—and a marble statue representing her in a reclining attitude may be seen beside its high altar. The yy. ‘The churches of San Au- gistin and La Merced, both with monasteries attached, are distinguished for their elaborate facades, which are wonderful specimens of what may be called st: -fretwork. The most ‘axhiovable sanctuary that of San Pedro, with its twin towers and red and green case- ments. DAYS OF TRE INQUISITION. It was not long after the conquest before the inquisition was established in Peru—that fearful engine of Spain’s despotic power. It is a mistake to suppose that it was altogether a popish institution; for here it was essentially Spanish—at least in its worst form. The stu- dent of history knows that while the Spaniards were using it as @ cloak to cover the most hid- ing against the atrocities they perpetrated. Thus while Torquemsde and Maurique were burning their hundreds of heretics Sextas IV was ordering the former to cease their perse~ cutions of several individuals and counseling moderation. Pope Pius IV interceded in favor of Carranza, the aged archbishop of Toledo who had closed the eves of Charles ¥, but was afterward accused of holding Lutheran doc trines, and Gregory VIII erected in Rome monument in praise of the same prelate. Cer- tainly the inquisition of Spain and Pern was not So much a religions as litical institu: tion, employed by rulers to render themselves absolute. In theory the Indians were exempte: risingly crowded | from its jurisdiction; but it is extremely doubt ful whether those persecuted people always escaped its crac clutebes. THE PERUVIAN SENATE ROOM. ‘The Peruvian senate now occupies the coun- cil chamber of the old Inquisition building whose famous ceiling was eatved by monks in brothers (of which Banker Wm. R. Grace of | the New York city is the head), tically monop- olizes North American trede ia Pera PAWNSHOPS ARE NUMEROUS. Pawnshops are incredibly numerous and packed with treasures of every description, diamonds, pearls, emeralds, splendid laces, ar- Lazaro leads down to the river Rimae, where it crossed byan ancient stone bridge, which Hi me ital i i now stands the bull ring. Others were torn upon the rack or ialiy broiled over live coals or #ub: to other diabolical torments yi wars » Itwas a na present century and shortly beforeethe Pe- Tuvian war for independence (in eee) of | that the fearful tribunal was abolishe an infuriated popniace destroyed all the instra- room where the latter “You have taken a severe cold,” said the old family doctor, “and it veems to have settled in chapel contairis a handsome alta®, and there are | advance: and if the lease is not renewed at the | tered from an outer corridor, reached by fights | | them to their lovers to thrust into the hide , thought she had pulled enongh | taught. W altogether, bat though the press was oppored | the populace.” So it was determined to regu- | to find so commonly anywhere else on | beautiful and cost | A common article of dyed cotton | ave stood the test of three cen- | ast for Years. “He LONG DOES a car boree usually Jast?” asked a Stan man of « driver om the 1ith street line the other night. “Well, that depends on thie horse,” was tie reply. “Some horses won't Inst but three months and'then we havé horses thet have bees ‘on the road for thirteen years, That ought to belong cnomgh to «a wn . you see,” maid the driver, “ite thete nerves. It isn't theamount of travel that a horwe does ina day, but ite the frequent step- ping and starting again. That's what jars @ horse. Every time he starte i and some constitutions can't stand it. Now,we f lot of horses when the Knights Templag mci their conclave here a Year ago, and of them didn't List three weeks. "They went a to pieces and were utterly worthless. Now, @ horse on this line has to travel about tweety iles a day. That distance isn't much, and he could co it all at once he would finish task in three or four hours: but he don’t. oes two trips and then he lays off « couple F ; eaPF hours: th isputonagein. As T anid, the constant stopping and sudden starting @at rains the horses. Still, some of them get weed to itand let a good while. ls awful bed jon wy days. Now. I didn't get stalled at all on Monday, when it was so bad, but one car was thirty minutes going from 15¢h ‘street to the Boundary. ‘The horses appar- ently got stalled four or five times, at least the passengers thought #o. But they were met stale re was one balky mare in te teat, and every little while, when she was pped. she wouldn't start. She nervous and couldn't or wouldn't pull. 7 for day, | anyway. Horses de think, you know. ‘They Feason, too, sometimes, just fixe hnmea \and they have wonderful memories. I done believe i horse ever forgets any be is once those horses know 1 them as well as you do. They know when are on their last trip at night, too, and they make better time when they "know they ‘ane Going to the stable for the _— Ashe said that the nigh horse pricked |ite ears and began to quicken ite jand the driver said: Mone you ‘That old girl knows what I'm saying end knows she * going to the stable, too. do we get oar horses? Oh, from mostly, however, from Virginia and Of course we get good stock; it woulda to do otherwise. It would be money There's a lot of fun made of the car horse, bat he don't deserve it. He is taken good care he is well fed: he has careful drivers and performs his duty well. He deserves com- tion rather than ridicule, and if there is a horse beaven you can bet your life the ear | Borwe deserves to go there when bis work here is over. t 4 gentleinan who was standing on the platform, ~{ remember that when I my father bonght a horse tbat was old in't seem to have any life in him. Still, he served us as well animal, and we all became very much to him. He was an intelligent brute and would follow us boys all around the place. One a circus came to town and the procession rd by cur place. Old Whi we called him, because he war | in the and when he beard the musie he pricked up tis ears and trovted down to the fence that bordered the road with more spirit than we had ever known When the band p over the fence and broke inte the taking bis place just bebind the We boys called him, but be | no attention to us, anid then we followed | until we reached the place where the tents been pitched. There we found that the old ‘horse had formerly belonged to this cireus and that the position he had taken that day was tbe ‘one he hud occupied during the parade when he was acircus Loree. Well, do you know we | had the hardest kind of a time to get him beck | to the pasture? He seemed to be as lively | two-vear-old = didn’t ant to leave ay cireus. We y did get him home, | honestly believe that if the band had when the circus left town he would have skipped off and we would have lost him ea tirely.” a ey The Cowboy's Day is Gone. From the Kansas City Times. I met a cowboy yesterdsy who was returning from the western plnins to his home in Obio. He was aad and bis face bore » doleful expres- | sion as he narrated the memories of happy ranch life never to be in, ~~ said be, “are nothing like thes used tobe. In stead of herds of buffalo and caitle they now have ‘boomers,’ scrub siock and ecalawag dogs, and instead of cowboys, as in —_ ‘the | habitants are settlers who have during the past twenty veurs ‘squatted’ in nearly every state | ions as they kept out of the grasiag couaiey ‘long as they kept out o' erazing we didn't sind them, but since there has been: such a demand for more land for set- thers those ory = | — fociety upon us until we had either to fight, cul of aceupt than an ecighbers. “I guess the gencral run of my kind of lows would much prefer the first propositien, | but it doesn’t pay. As for the last, it doesn't ge tail, graceful tower of thix church is a con-| in Lima, and its eisles are nota- | cous enormities popes were found expostalat- | atall. I know we are rongh fellows, and =e be we don't seem any better in the eyes of | world than ‘boomers,’ but that sort of ealcule- tion is ‘agin’ us. I guess no fellow ever made guccess Of ‘cow punching’ who wes lagy, end I | know I never me won the ‘who'd live in a ‘schooner’ and starve his: sooner | than work. A good many of us could get litde | herds and keep at the business if it wasn't for | the ‘boomers,’ but as they're coming, we're going. Idon't think you'll find many of the old cowboys on the range after this year, next year you won't know by viaiting whet was once cattle range country there ever uns such a set as genuine cow! potlnnanancanent ores Local Pride in the Northwest. From the Lewiston Journal. was in Washington, at year and was entertained by one of the | boomers. He wasa patriarchal old fellow long beard, who looked like a deacon and was worth 000 000 oF $6,000,000. . “He took me out to drive behind a fize pate of horses and showed me the town. One of the objects that attracted my attention wase very long building a tremendous aflair—eue | of the longest buildings I ever saw it. my Bfe. “How many gamb gnmes do you eup- ow. look, here, my friend.) aid I, ‘must destroy that thing or it will destroy yeu, * “What do you mean” he demanded. “ ‘Mean? Tmean that you ought to dzive @ | out of town. “ “Good God, Senator, * said he, if we less is Tacoma'll ge' E