Evening Star Newspaper, January 5, 1895, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR. SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. 17 Copsrignt, 1804, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller. It was a fine smmer morning In one of the southern counties of Virginia, and in front of her own little house sat Aunt Belinda Tinsley, paring potatoes. This wortpy person was a colored woman, some- thing under forty years of age, light brown in color and comely to look upon. She was neatly dressed, and her surround- ings, as well as the amiable and satisfied expression of her countenance, showed | that her circumstances were comfortable. | In her earlier days she had lived with white people and had been cook and laundress. Retiring from domestic service, she had married Dick Tinsley, an indus- trious and worthy blacksmith, who, about two years before this summer morning, | had died, leaving his widow a small but well-built house of more pretentious de- sign than any of the negro habitations in the neighborhood, a few acres of land, all | paid for, and, as report had it, an income, although there was not unanimity in the neighborhood regarding the amount of this income, nor from what it was derived. But everybody knew that Aunt Belinda, as she was called by her older friends and ac- quaintances, or Mrs. Tinsley, as some col- ored people of progressive views now chose | to designate her—was a person to be en-| vied, because, so far as outsiders could de- termine, she had all she wanted. Aunt Belinda lived alone, and when she had pared four medium-sized potatoes she knew these were enough for a meal, but she was considering whether or not it would be well to boil some more which | might be cut up and fried for supper, when, | raising her eyes, she saw a man coming | along the path which led to her house. At first she did not recognize him, but in a few minutes she saw that he was Moses Lipscomb, a man somewhat younger than herself and a little browner. She had known him all her life as a good-natured, folly fellow, who, although spasmodically industrious and able to perform surprising | feats of labor at hog-killing time, or on other occasions when the work was suit- | ably mixed with excitement, was in gen- | eral, on accourtt of his aversion to monot-| enous employment, as needy a man as| ever strutted through a cake walk or| twanged a banjo. | This morning, as has been said, Aunt | Belinda did not at first recognize him. | Ordinarily he dressed in garments quite simple and ragged, but now he was attired in grand style. On his head was a high, | black silk hat, somewhat battered and| rusty, with a broad band of crape around it; he wore a yellow waistcoat, much too large for him, and a blue coat with tar- nished brass buttons, some of them miss- ing, which was so small for him that he was obliged to throw out his chest very much to keep his shoulders back in order that he might not split it along its spinal | seam. His trousers were of brown linen, clean and very much starched, with the | bottom of the legs frayed and worn in such @ way that the starched threads hung over his well-blackened boots like Icicles over | tho mouth of a cavern. His collar was | high and evidently unpleasant to his jaws. | His large cravat had once been all crimson, but portions of it had new faded into | brown, and from the outside pocket of his coat projected the corner of a white silk handkerchief. As the visitor approached he took off his bat, but before he could speak Aunt Belinda sprang to her feet. “You, Moses Lipscomb!” she cried. “Wot you mean, comin’ hyar rigged up like dat? | Has you got the imperence to come hyar | for de purpos’ to pay ‘tentions to me? A broad smile spread over the visage of the jolly Moses. “‘Dat's it, ‘zactly, Aunt | B'linda,” said he. “I was kunjurin’ what | to say to begin wid, an’ dar you plumps right in, an’ I hain‘t got no trouble at all. I done come hyar, Aunt B'linda, to pay | “tentions to youse’f wid a view to mater- mony. Aunt Belinda sat for a few moments si- lently gazing at her visitor and then she broke out: “If ever I see a hedgehog In a@ beaver skin, I'se lookin’ at one now. What you mean, playin’ dem fool tricks en ™me? Now, you Moses, you take off dat | coh’t, wot b'longs to Uncle Pete, an’ was | guv him by his mah’ster more'n forty years ago, an’ wot Uncle Pete rents out fer ten cents ter any colored man in dis county “TAINT A HUSBAN’” y Frank R.S ockfon. —= ¢ -oRS A ONE-SIN MAN. EX | was white, and in his hand he carried a cane with a silver head. “Mornin’, Sister Tinsley,” said he; “I hopes I sees yer well?” “Mornin’, Brudder Aaron,” said Aunt Belinda; “ef yous got time ter stop, sot youse’f down hyar, and I'll fotch anudder cheer.” He lifted his hand deprecatingly. Sister Tinsley, never you wait on me. Dat’s my part; I waits on you,” and briskly step- ping inside he brought out a chair. The newcomer sat down, put his hat on the grass and his cane beside it, and then, leaning slightly forward, clasped his two long black hands between his knees. He was many shades darker than Aunt Be- linda, and several years older. His face was long, and rather thin. After a few re- marks about the weather and the “craps” he proceeded to business. “Sister Tinsley,” said he, “I knows you is a woman wot ain't got no time to waste, an’ I'se a man wid duties an’ ‘sponsibili- ties. Now, I comes to de pi'nt widout no scrapin’ an’ prancin’, and I comes here, Sister Tinsley, to ask youse’f ter combine wid me in de wows 0’ wedlock; in udder words, Sister Tinsley, I asks you to marry me. It’s a long time sence you was a wid- der, Sister Tinsley, and’ de Bible says *tain't right fer a man, nor a woman, to live ‘lone, ‘specially in a house like dis, wid no udder house nearder dan a quarter mile. Now, you kin see for youse’f, Sister Tinsley, dat a man like me, wot'’s lived in de city an’ waited at a hotel an’ as—" “Dat’s so,” said Aunt Belinda; “ 'cuse me fer interruptin’ you, Brudder Aaron, but you is mistook "bout me an’ de Bible. De | holy book don’ say nuffin’ "bout women liv- in’ "lone, only men, an’ wot does I want wid anudder husban’? Dar never was a better man dan Dick Tinsley, an’ he was an awful trial. Now wot’s de good of my “Keow!” He Ejaculated. havin’ anudder man hangin’ round hyar? I'se mighty cumf’t’ble-an’ I reckons I'se got ev’ryting in dis worl’ dat I wants, ‘cept one ting.” “Dat’s mighty true!" exclaimed Aar- on, “mighty true, Sister Tinsley; dare is one ting wot you wants, and dat is a fust-rate husban’.” ‘Tain't a husban’,” said Aunt Belinda, “iv's a keow.” “A keow!” exclaimed Aaron, twisting himself toward her as he spoke. He had not looked at her dusing his former re- marks, directing his quickly moving eyes over the distant landscape, but now he looked squarely at her, honestly surprised. “Yes,” sald Aunt Belinda, “wot I wants is a keow. I’se bin a long time widout one an’ I don’ wan’ to be widout one no longer; so ef I was ever to git anudder husban’ I'd git one as would fust guv me a Keow. I don’ wan’ no husban’, but ef I cahn't git a keow widout no husban’ I'll take him along wid de keow. Dat’s de way it stan’s, Brudder Aaron.” With his face a little longer than before Aaron resumed his survey of the landscape. “Wot kin’ o’ keow you wants, Sister Tinsley he asked. “I don’t keer "bout de kin’ nor de breed,” said Belinda, “‘so’s she’s tol’ble fresh an’ giv "bout three gallon o” milk. Don’ wan's no scrawny gailon-keow wid no more but- ter in de milk dan a bucket 0” w'itewash. Has you got a keow, Brudder Aaron?” Aaron folded his arms, knitted his brows and turned his glance upon the ground. u ae SAID AUNT BELINDA. wot wants ter go a-co’rtin’. Don’t yer | spose I knows dat coh’t? Hain’t I mended | ft more’n twenty times, an’ didn't I sew dat little bit o’ w'ite silk in de top of de pocket? An’ you take off dat high-top hat wot yer done borrer from Uncle Abe Binder, an’ dat yaller wesh, wot was ole Kunnel Westerman’s, an’ wot I done wash an’ iron till de ole kunnel die. Dem breeches is , an’ I ‘spects dem shoes an’ dat ‘ar shi * neck hank’chef, but you take off all de of dem tings ‘fore yer says anudder word.” Without hesitation Moses divested him- self of hat, coat and waistcoat and laid m down on the grass by the path. “Is dem dar gcle cuff buttons you's?” asked Aunt Belinda, severely. dey hain't,” said Moses, ‘“dey’s Buck ‘Simmonses. dem off!” sald Aunt Bolinda. “Take vow * she continued, when her or- you looks like aner, which ain’t youse’f down on de you's come ter say,” elf in her chair. * down on the | and embraced his knees with his “T hain’t got nuthin’ ter say, Aunt wot I said afore. 1 done com nticns to youse’f wid a view to matermony.” got ter ‘sport a wife wid, Moses 2" she asked. got nuthin’,” answered Moses, teeth shining like a rift of light dy sky. “Bress my soul, Aunt B’linda, ef ev'ry colored man in dis county | it ‘til he kin ‘sport a wife afore he y her, whar all de marryin’ be?” Aunt Belinda made no reply, but sat gazing, not at her suitor, but over the fields toward the east. Presently sh | Spoke: “You Moses, you git off dat grass an’ | take away dem clothes an’ den come back | grter supper dis evenin’ for yo’ ahnser. Now git along mighty quick. i hain’t got no time to fool wid yer now. Moses was well acquainted with Aunt | decision of character, and with- | out m g any remonstrances he gath- ered up the discarded clothes, bade her good morning and departed. Aunt Be- [nda watched him until he disappeared "cept behind a bit of woodland to the west and then she turned her gaze toward a field fi the opposite om. She had seen, b ¢ mam approach- soon bro Was very weil | fashion of M H it bore no lack, and fitted “When you wan’s yer keow?” said he. “Soon’s I kin git her,” answered Belinda. ‘se bin a long time widout one, an’ I wants ter have soma buttermilk dis week.” Suddenly a light flashed into the coun- tenance of the contemplative Aaron and he looked up. “Did you ever see my littl’ place over th’ udder side of de crik, Sister Tinsley?” The widow shook her head. Aaron looked satisfied. ‘Well, den,” said he, “I'se got some keows dar, two good keows, one Ald’ney an’ one brack an’ white. Cahn't say much for de Ald’ney; she ain’t fresh. Would a fust-rate brack an’ white keow suit yer, Sister Tinsley?” “Dat "d suit me tip top,” answered Be- lirda. “When kin yer fotch her?” “Fotch her enny time,” said he. “De sccner de better. Fotch her terday. “All right, Brudder Aaron,” sald she. ou come "long wid yer keow dis even- fore supper; min’ dat, ‘fore supper, in? ‘eas I wants de milk.” After a few remarks about his intentions’ and the propriety of the conjugal plan he | preposed Aaron departed, asserting that he must lose no time, for the little place he owned was three or four miles away. Aunt Belinda smiled to herself when he left. “De place you owns!” she said aloud. “I reckons all de lan’ you owns could be got into a flower pot. It was nearly sunset when, looking to- ward the road that ran at the bottom of the little hill on which her house stood, Belinda saw the tall form of Aaron, driv. ing a black and white cow before him, He had discarded his high silk hat for @ straw one, but otherwise he was attired as in the morning. : “Now, den!” he exclaimed ten minutes afterward, “wot yer tink of dat keow, Sister Tinsley? Dat's a monstrous fin’ keow wot I fotches yer. Aunt Belinda looked epprovingly at the animal. “Hew much milk do she guy?" she asked, "Bout three gallon, ‘jes’ like cream.” Whar you buy her, Brudder Aaron?” “Didn't buy her,” he answered. “I done raise her. Had dat keow when che were a littl’ cah’t, Lemme go put her in de shed, Den we kin talic more ‘bout de bisness of de mornin’, be s@ you milks her f B Aaron; I'll go fotch a pi Ti mibode ned in’ time, an’ I wants ter tag’ her milk.” Inyoluntarily Aaron glanced up and down the road, and then he sald: “Dunno "bout milkin’ in my bes’ breeches, Sister Tins- ‘Ob, you kin’ be keerful,” sald she, “an? I. wants ter tas’ her milk,” and she went in the house for a pail. Aaron was not a very rapid milker, but in the course of time he finished ’ and brought the pail to Belinda. “Dat's net much mill “Never, . like yer keow done guv mos’ her milk in de so,” sald Aaron, ‘jes’ wait ’til mornin’ and yet de milk.” “AN right,” said Aunt Belinda, “you kin tuck her to de shed an’ tie her up.” ‘When Aaron came back he wanted to sit down and talk matrimony, but Belinda would have none of it. “T’se busy now,” said she. iren Capt. Camp’s shirts. You come in de mornin’, Brudder Aaron, arter breakfas’ an’ den I'll talk bisness.” Got one job o” milkin’ out of yer, any- way,” said she to herself as he departed. When Aaron was entirely out of sight Aunt Belinda took the cow from the shed and led her down to the old field and left her near the fence, which ran by the road- side, where there was some grass growing in among the bushes in the fence corners. Very soon Moses Lipscomb appeared up- on the scene, dressed in his ordinary clothes, tarnished, torn and easy to fit. He Was very warm and very much excited. ‘Look byar, Aunt B'linda,” said he, “dat ar long-legged brack Aaron was down at de stor’ at de cross roads an’ braggin’ dat he was goin’ ter marry yer, an’ sayin’ dat it was all fixed an’ settled. Wot dat mean, Aunt Belinda?” “Dat mean he lie,” said Aunt Belinda, quietly, “nuthin’ ‘sprisin’ "bout dat.” Moses’ face brightened. “Den how about me, Aunt Belinda? Gwine ter take me? Yer says you guv me my ahnser ef I comes arter supper.” “Tain't so easy, Moses,” replied Aunt Belinda, speaking meditatively, ‘“dar's. lots of tings to be thunk ’bout. Now dars dis one ting, I wants ¢ keow an’ ef a husban’ comes ‘long wot kin guv me a keow, wot de good of my takin’ one wot cahn’t? Kin you guv me a keow, Moses?” The brown countenance of her suitor lengthened. “Keow!” he cjaculated. said Aunt Belinda, ‘‘an’ I’se got ter see de keow fus’ ‘fore I guvs any man my abnser. Cahn't take no man an’ den trus’ him for de keow. Now, don’ yer say anudder word, Moses Lipscomb. I hain’t got no time to be talkin’ now, I’se got ter fimish fronin’ Capt. Camp's shirts, for he wants dem termorrow mornin’ 'fore breakfas’. So git "long, Moses, an’ ef you comes termorrer arly an’ tells me ef you kin guv me a keow or ef yer cahn’t I'll guv yer yer ahnser. Go ‘long now,"’ and she went into the house and left him. For a few moments Moses stood as if he had just been sentenced to the county prison. “Keow!” said he to himself. “Ef she'd asked me to guv her de hand!’ of a milk pail I hain’t got none,” and then, turn- ing, he walked mournfully away.. When Atnt Belinda opened her door the next morning and looked out upon the dew- besprinkled landscape, sparkling under the first rays of the morning sun, she saw Moses Lipscomb standing in front of the house. His hands were in his pockets, his soft old hat was stuck on the side of his head, and near him was a black and white cow, contentedly nibbling the short grass. “Mornin’, Aunt B’linda,” shouted Moses, “hyar I is an’ dar she. Don’ say I don’ guv yer no keow! Dar's a monstrous fin’ animal an’ I fotch her to yer an’ I guv her ter yer. Now wot you say ter dat, Aunt B'linda?” Aunt Belinda put her hands on her hips eae threw a severe expression into her ‘ace. “Dat's a mighty fin’ keow,” said she, “but look hyar, Moses Lipscomb, whar you git dat keow? You knows you hain’t got no keow, and you knows yer never saved money "nough outer yer wages, when yer gits eny, ter buy de hide of a keow, let "lone a bull one. Now den, you stan’ up straight "fore me an’ tell me whar you git yer.” Moses stood up before her and looked her straight in the face. ‘‘Aunt B’linda,” said he, “I done stole dat keow.”” “T’se got ter “Stole her!” cried Aunt Belinda, “and fotch her to m “Dat's ‘zactly wot I done,” said he. “You knows jes’ as well as I does I hain’t got no keow an’ couldn’ never buy one, an’ when I knows I can't have yer, Aunt B'linda, widout I gits a keow, I’se boun’ ter git a Keow, an’ says I ter myself: ‘Moses Lipscomb, ef you kin tote a three-hundred- poun’ hog, ef yer tries ter, yer kin git a keow ef yer tries ter.’ But bress my soul, Aunt B'linda, I hain’t no need ter try, ‘cos when I was agoin’ home yes’day evenin’ de fus’ ting I see when I gits down to de road was dat brack an’ w'ite keow eatin’ grass by de fence in de ole field. Lor! How I jumps when I see her. Says I: ‘Moses, de good angel Gabriel sen’ you dat keow. Dat keow don’ b'long “bout hyar an’ I reckon she b'long to dat druv wot wen’ through hyar t’other day, an’ she done git los’ in de bushes an’ was luf b’hin’.’ So I jes’ gits over de fence an’ I sits down on de grass near by her an’ I watch her all night, an’ arly dis mornin’ I druv her up hyar. I'se bin waitin’ more’n two hours when yer come out, Aunt B’linda, an’ ef yer keeps her in de shed dat ar driver won’ fin’ her when he comes back, wot he cahn’t do an leave de res’ of de cattl’.’ “You done stole her! linda. “Yes, I done jes’ dat,” replied Moses, ‘‘an’ wot’s more, I'd stole forty keows rather dan not git you fer a wife, Aunt B'linda.” “Moses Lipscomb,” said she, after a slight pause, “you is wot I calls a one-sin man. Yous done gone an’ stole dat keow, but dar you stops. You don’ come ter me an’ tell no les "bout it. Now, dar’s dat long-legged Aaron, he done stole a keow an’ fotch her ter me an’ tell me a bucket- ful of lies bout her. I’se lived long ’nough ter know dat I cahn’t git no husban’, ‘specially in dis part ob de county, widout no sin at all, an’ so I’se boun’ ter take de one wot’s got de leas’, an’ I reckon dar ain’t nobody round hyar wot’s got less dan one, an’ so, Moses, I'll take you. An’ now I% guv you de milk pail an’ you milk dat keow; ‘cos tain't fair ter de pore dumb creetur ter let her go not milked, an’ den you tuck her whar you fin’ her an’ leave her dar. When you done dat yer kin come back an’ have yer breakfas’. Ef dar’s one ting 1 hates,” she continued, as she went into the house, “it’s milkin’!’”” It was about an hour afterward and Moses was still eating his bacon and dip- ping his corn bread into the melted and bubbling fat when Aunt Belinda, lookin; out of her window, saw the long-legge Aaron striding over the field. He was dressed as on the day before, except that he wore a pink rose in his buttonhole. As Aunt Belinda liked to have her con- ferences outside of the house, where there was room to talk, she went out to receive him. “B’linda,” said he, as he took off his hat and held out his hand, ‘“‘my deah B'linda, whar’s de woman on de top of de earf wot more gladden de heart—" “Stop dat, you long-legged Aaron!” she cried. ‘Wot you mean ter speak like dat ter me an’ call me sweetheart names? Don’t yer do dat no more.” “Wot you mean?’.cried Aaron, “Ain't that ‘fair twixt us all fix'd?* Didn’t I guv yer dat keow fer mar’age settl’men’, paid in ‘vance? Didn't you p’omise me—” “Go "long wid yer!” shouted Aunt Be- linda. “How yer dare come hyar wid yer lies ari’ yer thieveries? I seen yer yes’day mornin’ comin’ over de field! I seen yer stop an’ look at dat brack an’ w'ite keow, an’ I knowed you knowed dat keow didn’ ‘long in dis hyar neighborhood, an’ I jes’ thunk*ter myself I'd ask dat long-legged Aaron ter guv me a keow an’ see wot he do. Den yer done stole dat brack an’ w’ite keow an’ fotch her ter me an’ tell me lot o’ lies "bout raisin’ her from a littl’ cah’f! Now let me tell yer, you Aaron, dat brack an’ w'ite keow is my keow. Day ‘for yes’- day I bought her outer a druv of cattl’ an’ paid fer her wid money wot I done save from washin’ an’ ironin’, an’ I put her in dat field, an’ nobody "bout hyar done know I’se got dat keow. An’ you done stole my own keow an’ come hyar wid a pack o’ lies an’ ask me ter marry yer on ’count of yer guvin’ her ter me—my own keow!” “Mis’ Tinsley,” said Aaron, drawing him- self up, “de langwidge you's usin’ ter me is ’fensive ter my min’. Ef you's de kin’ o’ woman wot uses sich langwidge I don’t want no wedlock wid yer, an’ I don’ want ter hyar no more fool talk ’beout yer buy- in’ dat keow. I’se too ole fer any sech tales as dat. Jes’ you guy me back my keow an’ I retires from dis controwersy, An’ look hyar, Miss Tinsley, ef yer don’ guy her back I'll have yer ‘rested for "tainin’ keows on false pertenses.” At this moment a sudden noise was heard inside the house, a stool was tumbled over the floor, a tabla was pushed roughly t one side, there was a quick stamping 0) feet, and in an instant Moses Lipscomb, his eyes glaring and his head lowered like a bull ready to charge ‘a matador, appear- ed in the doorway. “Git, you, Aaron!” cried Aunt Belinda, The injunction was not needed. The long- legged suitor gave one glance at the door way. This was not the first time he had seen Moses Lipscomb with his head down and his eyes glaring, and without hesitat- ing he turned aid fled, with Moses after him, roaring ilke an infuriated king of the herd. Aaron's legs were very long; his silk hat fell off, and he did not stop to pick it = and his fright and his strides were great that he soon left his pursuer far behind. Moses stopped and, giving the hat @ kick that would have done credit ae college foot ball man, and shaking his fis after his flying foe, he shouted: “Ef ever I kotch you, you daddy-long- repeated Aunt Be- "sald she. “Looks i legs, I'l: butt yer low an’ I'll kick yer high, "til yer never “de diffrence twixt de earf an’ de sky! ymin’ hyar an’ talkin’ ter my B'linda ‘bout ’restin’ her fer false pertenses an’ a keow ‘When Moses returned he found Aunt Be- linda seated in g chair, laughing until the tears ran dewnthe~ocheeks. “He make me crack my sides!’ she ex- claimed. “I jes';#ay; ter him: ‘Git!’ an’ he more’n got!” Moses sat down on the grass, wiping his face with the corner of a torn shirt sleeve. “Was all dat de true fac’,” he said, “wot you done say ‘bout buyin’ dat keow an’ her bein’ yer keow all de time?" “True as gospel," said sche, “I kin show yer de ’ceipt wot I made de driver guv me "fore I paid himy VWouldn’ trus’ no stran- “Git, You, Aaron!” ger like him wot might come back hyar ’ he dore los’ a keow in Perkins’ ole “Den, B'linda,” said Moses, “I reckons T’se a no sin man, 'cos ef I done guv back de keow wot I stole to de pusson wot I stole her from, den I’se all right.” “Go ‘long, you Moses,”" cried she, ‘I hain’t got no time ter talk sich fool talk wid yer. I’se got ter iron Capt. Camp's shirts an’ tuck ‘em down ter him, an’ you go git me some light wood fer ter he’t de irons wid, and when you done dat I'll guv yer ten cents ter pay pore Uncle Pete fer de hire of dat coh’t wot you comes hyar wid ter pay ’tentions ter me wid a view ter matermony. I knows you hain’t got no money ter pay him wid, an’ ef we's ter be married we’s got ter start squar.” --o+—____ ROUGING A DUTY. The Interesting Point of View of One Woman, From the New York Herald. It was late autumn. A few guests only remained in a large hotel in a fashionable mountain resort. They were waiting for the glorious fall weather that always comes when the long rains are over. One morn- ing six women, whose ages ranged from twenty to forty-five, were, sitting around an open fire. Five of them had their em- broidery in their hands, the sixth was read- ing aloud. She was a woman perhaps thirty years old, with pretty, soft hair, eyes of no especial color and pink cheeks; in fact, a woman entirely fascinating in manner and appearance. Suddenly she stopped reading and put the book down. “You will not like this story,” she ex- claimed. “It’s all about a plain woman who made herself beautiful. She did a great many wonderful things to her face, and in her method was included a little judicious rouging.” The speaker was looking in the faces of the other women as she spoke, and the ex- pected look of disapproval appeared in every face. Then she said: “You don’t think she was jystified in rouging, or that it 1s ever excusable in any woman?” “Never!” exclaimbd a demure little girl, whose pretty cheek was tinged with that charming color which goes, as a rule, at twenty-five, never to return. “I don’t think nice women ought to do anything of that sort.” “It always seems’to me uncleanly,” said another maiden. “It is repulsive,” added a matron of forty-five, embroidering very fast and speaking very decidedly, “and I cannot see how there can be two sides to the ques- tion.” g “I do not agree with you,” answered the young woman who began the discussion. “I am going to tell you a secret now—I do it myself! “Horror!” cried three or four voices at once. “I have always’ had an idea that your color was not natural,” said the matron of forty-five, disapprovingly. “Now, that does not annoy me In the least. I am quite willing to have it known, I am not at all ashamed of it. You see,” continued the young woman who rouged, “it was all a mistake, my being created h nice enough hair, good but colorless and a ekin that I must say is fault- less in texture, and then to have it all spoiled bya fatal sallowness. It was not artistic. I think if nature makes a mistake we should make an effort to remedy that mistake. This Was Her Argument. “You, my dear,’ she said sweetly to the young girl who had called the process of reuging “uncleanly,” “it is your misfortune to have hair that does not curl. In your case nature’s mistake is very prettily reme- died, I must admit,” observing the fluffy waves in the aair of the rather discomfort- ed maide ‘Now, I,’ went on the champion of color, “do not have to use curling tongs. My hair behaves itself. But the blood that be- lcngs in my cheeks does not behave itself, and so I make an effort to do without it.” “Does your husband know that you rouge?” asked the demure maiden. my dear child, I have never tried to conceal the fact from any one. I found out very early in my life that it was less disagreeable to know that people were say- ing, ‘What a pity Janet rouges!’ than to look in the glass and think, ‘How really well I should look if I had a little color.’ As to my husband, soon after we were married he found it out, and one morning,” she went on, with a contented little laugh, “when I came down to breakfast he looked up from his newspaper and said: ‘Janet, you will oblige me by going up stairs and washing that stuff off your face.’ ‘Certain- ly,’ I said, and I washed off my beautifier and reappeared before my good husband. Again he looked up from his paper. ‘Go and put it on again,’ he said, crossly. ‘Cer- tainly,’ I said, and we have never men- ticned the subject since.” The young girls in the room were begin- ning to take a deep interest in the story, and even the matron of forty-five looked furtively at the dainty cheeks of the lady who rouged. “I fancy I do it well, too,” continued the heroine of the moment. “There is every- thing in that. It is vulgar if it is done in any other way. I assure you it is very ex- citing to know that people, men especialiy, are looking at you very closely, and trying to make up their minds whether the color is natural or not. Just because vulgar wo- men plaster their faces with rouge, that is no reason why the whole thing should be called an abomination. The use of strong perfumes is disgusting, but we should not en that acocunt be obliged to refrain from putting orris and syeet-scented sachets in our clothes pres: Hal. Convinced. “There 1s a great, deal in what you say,” said the fair, demure maiden, musingly. “There is everythihg in what I say,” said the other, enthisisstically. ‘There ts as much difference inthe way I look now and my appearance without mon ami rouge as there is between the autumn leaves as they look now, full of color and life, and the way they will lotk ‘in two weeks, shriveled and dried up. Moreover, I am pleased with myself when I look well, and one cannot be charming unless one is pleased with one’s self. With, my rouge on I can be sparkling and clever, without it I am as dull as my skin is. It is like the conscious~ ness of being well gowned. And now I think I have talked.enough. I am going to ‘unchgon. Tomorrow we Will finish ouf 00k.” or Two of a Kind. From Life. First Mean Man—‘Have you a cigar?” Second Mean Man—‘‘Yes, but only one, and I want to smoke myself.” “Well, I have one, too.”” And they smiled and smoked, and each respected the other. : hspiracy SHARP NEW DODGES The Devices of Counterfeiters Keep the Officials Busy. NOVEL OSE FOR CONFEDERATE MONEY A Boom in the Business of Raising Uncle Sam’s Notes. PEN-AND-INK FORGER Written for The Evening Star. EW DEVICES OF counterfeiters ‘ have been keeping the treasury officials on tenter-hooks of late. The business of al- tering the denomina- tions of Uncle Sam’s notes and certificates has been having a great boom, and in- genious criminals are finding a novel vse for old confederate shinplasters in con- nection with this peculiar branch of in- dustry. They cut out the numbers from these worthless securities and insert them in place of the original ones, helping out the effect by means of colored pencils and inks. Thus they change one-dollar and two-dollar bills into fives, tens and twen- ties. It is a fact that confederate notes today are not wholly without value. They command a market price of 2 cents apiece, being chiefly in demand for fraudulent purposes. Great numbers of them are passed every year upon ignorant foreigners in this country, especially in New York and Chicago. The most admired experts in the note- raising line up to date are a man named Freeland and his wife Belle, who operated in Chicago for a while, making much trou- ble for the poiice. They were actually artists in their way, the bills altered by them being so excellently done that there was no trouble in passing them. But they were caught at length and sent to prison. President Cleveland pardoned the woman only the other day, because she had given birth to a child in jail and the infant need- ed her care. This kind of fraud is wholly a novelty, having grown up within the last two or three years. It was carried on so extensively a short time ago that the au- thorities became alarmed, and the utmost efforts were made by the secret service to ferret out and punish the offenders. As a result, no fewer than forty persons were arrested for making and passing raised notes during the last year, and it is believ- ed that this form of crime has been well- nigh stamped out, for the time being, at all events. Some Youthful Operators. So attractive is the business to the un- scrupulous that even boys have gone into it. Two youths in their teens named Es- terbrook and Chapin, near Portland, Me., were caught raising $2 treasury notes to tens. They used colored inks. According to their statement they got the idea from reading accounts cf such doings in tho newspapers. A very successful operator in this line caught during the last year was a mulatto named Walter Jackson. He was better known as the Jap, because he look- ed somewhat like a Japanese. He was only eighteen years old and had been a mill hand at Homestead, Pa. He passed altered notes of his own manufacture in Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, his profits being so considerable that he could afford to tri A girl in a milli- ner’s shop “dropped” to his game and he ran away, leaving behind him a big book containing twelve raised greenbacks. In the book were also two written cards bear- ing the name Walter Jackson, and the ad- dress Homestead. This gave a clue, and the detectives by watching the mails at Homestead located the man in Philad phia. He was arrested in the latter city in August last. Colored pencils, brushes and confederate money were found in his possession. The chief reason for the remarkable suc- cess of the secret service in huniing down these rascals is that it is far more easy to capture a note raiser than a counter- feiter. The latter docs not usually circu- late his own stuff, preferring to dispese of it through go-betweens or “shovers.” Thus it is apt to be hard to discover and lay hands upon the manufacturer of the false money. But the criminal who merely al- ters the face of the currency usually pass- es his product himself. Some of the notes thus treated are marvelously well done and will stand a fair scrutiny, though they are easily detected by holding them be- tween the eye and the light. Increase in Counterfeiting. Another skillfu} worker in this business recently captured was Henry Wood, alias Blake, who was formerly in the regular army as an enlisted man, and served in the Modoc war. Finding himself dead breke in San Francisco, it occurred to him to raise the wind by altering notes. He passed a great many in San Francisco, Sacramento and Oakland, becoming locally notorious as the “Bill Raiser.” For a long time he puzzled the police, but was finally taken red-handed. His stock in trade con- sisted of a lot of confederate notes, pencils of various colors and a bottle of mucilage. He was regularly in correspondence with persons in Atlanta, Ga., from whom he ob- tained his supplies of confederate scrip. There has been an extraordinary activity in the counterfeiting industry during the last year. The number of arrests for such offenses has been greater than in any pre- vious twelvemonth in the history of the secret service. Enormous quantities of false notes and coins have been thrown into circulation. A number of imitations of the government’s fiber paper have made their appearance. One of these is a $20 note consisting of two pieces of paper pasted together, with scattered filaments of silk between. In last March a danger- ous counterfeit of the $2 treasury notes of 1891 turned up, printed on paper containing silk threads. In June of this year a con- was discovered in Hamburg and Leipsic, Germany, for the counterfeiting of United States silver certificates and Bank of England notes on a large scale. Half a million dollars’ worth of the imita- tions were captured, together with the criminals, od During the last fiscal year counterfeit coins have been issued in alarming quan- tities. Thirty-six Italians were arrested for making and passing this kind of cur- rency, to the private production of which peoplé of this nationality seem to be es- pecially addicted, They work in gangs, and employ processes of the most primitive de- scription. At the same time, there is no evidence of any advance artistically in this branch of counterfeiting, which is regarded as beneath the attention of the high-grade criminal, The necessary mechanical equip- ment cof plaster of paris for molds and cheap metal composition being within easy reach of all, there is great temptation for the uneducated and morally besotted -to engage in the business. The chief of the secret service declares that the counterfeit- ing of coins is far more serious in itg re- sults to the community and more difficult of detection than the making and circulat- ing of spurious paper money. The Aid of Photography. Yeanwhile photographic counterfeits are multiplying rapidly, much to the discom- posure of the treasury. Specimens execut- ed on banks at Fort Worth, Tex., Derry, N. H., and South Bend, Ind., have excited special attention. By photolithography it is easy to imitate the most skillfully en- graved designs, This and other photo- graphic processes are being brought stead- ily to greater perfection, and the danger from attacks by such means upon the cur- rency is grave and increasing. Notes thus produced are easily turned out in indefinite quantities. Though they could not deceive an expert, their general appearance is good and calculated to satisfy the passing scrutiny of the average person who han- dles money. ‘ By a new process called ‘‘photofligrame” a sheet of paper is rolled through a press together with a gelatine relief of any de- sign,and an accurate reproduction Js trans- ferred to the paper. The inventor, for the sake of experiment,passed a sheet of paper with a Bank of England note through his | machine and got a perfeot fac simile of tho water mark on which the great Brit- ish financial institution depends mainly for protection against counterfeiters. The elated patentee was so imprudent as to communicate this discovery to the authori- ties, and, being called upon the next day by several officers, he was informed that he had committed a criminal offense. His costly rolling press narrowly escaped con- fiscation. The famous “pen-and-ink man,” who has been bothering the treasury for many years, is still getting in his deadly work. During the last year two treasury notes of his workmanship, for $100 each, have turned up. Both were executed in his usual artistic style, being done wholly with pen and brush. Nobody would hesi- tate to take them. No clue has ever been found to the identity of this extraordinary criminal, who seems to pursue his fad purely for the sake of recreation. It can- not possibly pay as an industry. He seems to produce two notes regularly every year, usually for $100, and they must take pretty nearly all his time. The business of gilding subsidiary and minor coins for the purpose of passing them as gold seems to have been nearly stopped, owing to the arrest and convic- tion of the persons engaged in this kind of work. During the last year there were only two arrests for such offenses—one for gilding nickels with a big V, end tke other for coating quarters with gold. Two sweaters of gold coins were captured in California. They use electric batteries in the usual fashion for removing a part of the gold. In that part of the country there is comparatively little counterfeiting of gold coins because people out there are more accustomed to handle gold than in the east, and are consequently more ex- pert in detecting anything wrong in a gold piece. There were five arrests for the newly-inyented scheme of cutting the edges from gold coins and remilling them, about 5 per cent of their weight being taken away by this process. The banks have been much disturbed of late by the nu- merous light gold coins in circulation, and the chief of the secret service recommends that Congress shall pass an act making it a felony to mutilate United States coins or to pass such coins with fraudulent intent. A novelty in the shape of silvered cents, intended to represent dimes, appeared late- ly in New York city, where such pieces could be disposed of easily in the rush of business. The Advertising Schemes. The treasury is still having about as much trouble as ever with the people who persist in making pictures and other imi- tations of the currency for advertising and other non-fraudulent purposes. The most artistic piece of work of this kind up to date was captured only the other day. The chief of the secret service has since refused an offer of $100 for it. It is the masterpiece of a Philadelphia letter carrier. On a piece of canvas, painted to represent a pine plank, are depicted a one-dollar bill, a four-cent postage stamp, a one-cent postal card, a souvenir Colum- bian postal card and an envelope bearing a Columbian stamp. The dollar bill is so won- derfully done that the writer, after exam- ining it closely and scratching it with his finger nail, insisted that it was a real one pasted on. The rest of the design is equally excellent. The office of the secret service chief is profusely decoratef with similar works of art. One of them represents a royal straight flush of clubs, with a fresh twerty-dollar note on the Bank of Mon- treal and a ragged United States note. It came from Canada and was confiscated only the other day. Another specimen is a pocket book, one side of which represents a postal card. A paper wallet, apparently stuffed with protruding notes, is intended to be picked up in the streets. It bears an advertisement. There have beer two thefts from United Stites mints during the last year. One occurred in New Orleans, where an eme ploye stole $25,000 from a vault and claimed that the money had been burned by the heated fragments of an exploded electric lamp. To give verisimilitude to his story he left the half charred fragments of $1,100 in the box which had contained the $25,000. The name of this ingenious individual was J. M. Darling. More picturesque yet was the crime of Geo. W. Cochran, who stole about $140,000 worth of gold bars from the mint in Philadelphia. He fished the bars with a wire from behind the grating of a vault. Then he removed them at leisure to his home, melted them, and sent the gold as bullion by express to the mint under an assumed name, the money being returned to him by express. RENE BACHE. —————+ee USEFUL ALARM CLOCK. It Helped a Young Man to Say Good Night. Frem the New York Sun. A young man stood in the rfortico of an apartment house in Washington Park, Brooklyn, the other evening, and on the step above him stood a pretty girl. It was late and the street was deserted. Despite the darkness it was apparent to the oc- casional passerby that the young man had the daintily gloved right hand of the young woman within his own, while his left hand rested over it like a cover to keep it guard- ed. The young man was apparently trying. to say goodnight and the young woman evidently could not hear him, for she was bending her head close to his. They stood in that attitude for nearly fifteen minutes and might have been discovered in the same pose by the gray dawn of the morn- ipg had not something intervened. That something was round and bright, and it came out of a sixth-story window. It descended slowly, the moonlight shimmer- ing on its silvery surface and making it conspicuous. Soon it could be seen that it was on a string and was being lowered by an elderly woman. When it dangled over the portico there was a sudden bur-r-r-r-r- r-r-r-r-ring and the young man and young woman parted like an overstrained hawser. The young man seized the round and bright object, which was still ringing, and held its face to the electric light. The hands on the alarm clock were clasped at midnight. He raised his hat to the young woman, murmured two words in a low tone and dis- appeared. The alarm clock was hoisted up quickly, but the young woman was upstairs before it finally reached the open window. —____ +e+- —___. VOTERS IN REPUBLICS. The Close Connection Between Uni- versal Suffrage and Free Government. From the New York Sun. The close connection between universal suffrage and a republican form of govern- ment is indicated by the fact that of fifteen American or European countries in which there is representative government, the number of electors in the three republics of the United States, France and Switzer- land outnumber the voters in the other twelve. At the last presidential election in the United States 12,068, At the last general election for members of the French assembly 9,000,000 voters took part and in Switzerland the vote was 439,000 for members of the national coun- cil. The whole number of voters at a general parliamentary election in Great Britain is about 4,800,000. In Germany the total num- ber is about 8,000,000. In Spain it is 650,000, in Italy 550,000 and In Austria about 1,000,- 000, or one-fortieth of the whole population. There has recently been an extension of the suffrage in Belgium almost to the universal basis for male adults, and in Italy of late the proportion of voters has increased, not through any action of the legislature, but through the change in the views of many Italian citizens who have heretofore ab- stained from taking part in an election. From Life. CATARRH OF THE STOMACH, Interesting Facts About this Peculiar Disease. A Well-known Man Relates His Experience and Tells How He Succeeded in Getting Relief. (From the St. Louis, Mo., Chronicle.) “No one knows except myself the amount ob suffering I endured for upwards of four years, from what I was told was catarrh of the stomach.” The speaker was Mr. J. P. Fox, one of the best known professional swimmers in St. Louis, now at Prof. Clark’s Natatorium, 19th and Pine. The rest of the interesting story is best told in Professor Fox's own way. “It's a [ttle over five years since I first became afflicted with the disease. My trouble all commenced with a severe cold contracted by foolishly going into the water one bitter cold day, and not taking sufficient care of myselfon coming out. Treating the cold lightly, I got another andanother until my condition became serioug I had occasional aching of the eyes and this was foliowed by stinging pains, almost unbearable in my head. Then my throat com- menced to fill with a slimy substance which caused me to hawk and spit in a most dis agreeable manner. What with this and the constant bad taste’ in my mouth, my life be- came a burden tome. My appetite, which had previously been very good, began to fail me, and from being of goodly proportions I became gaunt, pale and thin, manifestly under my proper weight. Iam noteasily scared, asarule, but just thea I certainly lost my nerve, starting at almost every sound. I consulted several doctors and faithfully followed their advice, but experienced no permanent relief Then, at times I began to go light headed. One day in particular, I have occasion toremember, while conversing with a friend I was suddenly seized with an attack of vertigo. Ireeled around, staggered half way across the room and fell, striking my head heavily against the sharp edge of a swinging door, and being knocked senseless, a state I remained in for over halfan hour. On coming to I found myselfin bed, with a docvor, nurse and mother bending over me. I was confined to the house over s week, being barely able to walk across the bed-room, “I be- came nervous and sleepless, and even while in my weak state suffered from aching and rack- ing pains. 1 had no desire to eat, and what I did get down caused indigestion of the worst kind. With thecontinuous coughing my turoat became very sore, and if ever there was a miser- able being I was the one. My nerves were all unstrungand I feltalmost completely worn out. Often I would be seized with a feeling of suffo- cation. This went on until one day a friend insisted that I try Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People, and he read to me a paper wherein several cures of cases similar to mine were re- ported. Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, I determined to give them a trial I then, or rather my mother did, threw the doctor's medicine away and began to take the pills. Actually before I had taken half of the contents of the first box I began to feela marked improvement. I began to sleep well, with my returning appetite I began to take a better view. of life, the gnawing sensations in my stomach disappeared, I ceased to beich up gas and had no feelings of vomiting after eating, the sore- ness in my throat went away, and, well, within a month, I ventured out of the house. 1 kept on with the pills, and—well you see me now. I fee] as well as ever I did, and I don’t suppose there is a sounder man physically than myself in the country. Iam in and out of the water three and four times a day, giving swimming lessons, and I certainly attribute my present good health to Dr. Williams’ Pink Pilla You can use my name if you want to, and I shall be pleased to tell of the great benefits I have derived from the use of the pills at any time.” An analysis of Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People shows that they contain, in a con- densed form, all the elements necessary to give new life and richness to the blood and restore shattered nerves. They are an unfailing specific for such diseases as locomotor ataxia, partial paralysis, St. Vitus’ dance, sciatica, neuralgia, rheumatism, nervous headache, theafter effecta of la grippe, palpitation of the heart, pale and sallow complexions, and all forms of weakness either in male or female. Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills are sold by all dealers, or will be sent post paid on receipt of price, (50 cents a box or six boxes for $250—they are never sold in bulk or by the 100) by addressing Dr Williams’ Medi- rine Co., Schenectady, N. Xe A JAPANESE STORY. Told by 2 Native of Japan to an Audi- ence in Rochester. From the Post-Express. At Y. M. C. A. hall yesterday afternoon, Yeataso Okano, a Japanese, told the fol- lewing story to a large audience: “Once upon a time there lived in a little hamlet in Japan a young ceuple. They had one child, a beautiful littl: girl, whom both loved very d It came to pass while the child was still a baby girl that the father was obliged to take a leng journey to the far-distant city. It was too far fer him to take his wife and child, so he left them at home ard traveled aione. 7 “In that great city he saw many new things which, having lived in the peacetul little hamlet up among the mountains all his life, he had never seen before. He de- sired to take home to his wife some ‘of these new things which seemed to him so wonderful And the mest wonderful gift he could take, it seemed to him, was a mirror. He wished to take home to his wife the pleasure and surprise he had ex- perienced when he first looked into a mir- ror. So he teok one home to his wife. “When he arrived home he gave the present to his wife, and for the first time she looked into a mirror. ‘What do you see?” her husband asked. She replied: “I declare! I see a very pretty woman. She wears her hair just as I do mine, and she smiles and moves her lips as if she were talking to me.’ Her husband told her that the mirror was a present for her and he hoped she would use it every day. But the wife thought it far too beautiful and rare and costly a gift to use every day; so she put it carefully away and never spoke about it to the little daughter, who grew more beautiful and more like her mother, every day. “By and by a great misfortune fell upon that little household. The wife and mother fell sick and it was soon evident that she must die. As she lay upon her deathbed she called her little daughter to her and told her that she was geing to lose her mother forever. She could point to no future life after death, in which they should be reurited. But in the love and simplicity of her heart she did the best she could;she told her little daughter about the wonderful mirror. ‘After I am dead,’ she said, ‘take down that box and look into the mirror that it contains. There you will see my face. And I want you to look into the mirror every day, that you may never forget your mother and that you may like me, more and more, every day.’ ‘So the mother died. The little girl di as she had been told, and in the wonderfu mirror she thought she saw her mother’ face, yourtg and beautiful, not as she hi seen her, pale and ill as she lay dying, but fair and fresh as she had looked before the fatal illness. And the little girl look- ed into the mirror every gay, and thought of her mother and her many lovely and so it came about that she srew to 4 more ard more like her mother as thé years went by.” —____+02_—_____ He Henrd Washington Spenk. From the Philadelphia Press. e United States Commissioner Hill of Ha- zelton, Pa., has received a letter from Christian Conrad,probably the oldest Penn- sylvanian living. When seventeen years of age Conred heard George Washington speak in Philadelphia. He served all through the war of 1812, and would have served through the Mexican war, but was ears of age, and, too old. He ts now 135 accoré! to his own in good health, He is Mving in ester, la. He was born in Augnsta town@ip, North- Jand county, Pa. Mr. Hill, who Is inted with the old man, and who teran of the war, had logt k Conrad mary years ago. The let is in his own handwriting, and cone ack information as to leave the