Evening Star Newspaper, October 12, 1895, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1895—-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. 19 THE CIRCULAR SKIRT Not to Dip in the Back and Droop at the Sides. SOME FOIBLES OF FASHION Handsome Costumes Easily Con- structed. POPULARITY OF VELVET Written Exelasively for The Evening Star. Tis STIFF INTER- lining of skirts is dropping lower and lower, and muy slide clear out before spring. Then what? Will the skirts be permitted to hang in full artistic folds about one’s feet, will the superabundance of material be spread out over wire cages, or will skirts diminish in width till an or- inary woman can carry them around with- out artificial ald? Here is an idea about the circular skirt that may help a few women who make their own skirts, and have never been able to have a circle skirt that would not dip in the back and drcop on the sides: “Run all the seams with cotton tape, and add a straight width of cambric down each side, where the large bias curve comes, 30 as to hold it in place.” A dressmaker who turns out dreams of gowns, that never seem to get out of shape, told me that was the Meh she managed the “plaguey” circular skirt. Popularity of Velvet. Velvet ribbons have the appearance monopolizing the attention, for a time least, this winter. Skirts will be more less trimmed, and velvet ribbon will he largely that trimming. It will be put at the foot in the shape of plain bands, some- times in graduated width, or in rows of three to five. Velvet will be the popular fabric all win- ter, very largely used for sleeves in wool- en gowns, for bodices to which sleeves like the skirt will be attached, and for wh suits, to say nothing of jackets and wraps ‘The rage for velvet will extend even to the head coverings, and, for a time at least, they will all be made of velvet, pushing felt hats far in the background, for fash- icnable wear. The velvet hats are to be made up “while you wait,” and will suit the individual taste, so that no two women will wear hats alike, which is really the proper thing. No woman wants to pay $20 for an “imported” bonnet. of at or For Trimmed. Next to velvet, fur will be the popular trimming. An odd faney for capes is espe- cially designed, it would seem, for the working over of one’s old furs. You can take one of the old deep fur capes to the fur shop, and, by the addition of a deep border of velvet, or some sharply contrast- ing fur, which will be set onto your cape, the bottom of which has been cut in dee: notches, you can have an elegant new gar- ment, and one which is pre-eminently stylish, at comparatively smali cost. A rich example of what may be accomplished In trimming with fur is found in the illus- tration, which is designed in green broad- cloth, and has a foot trimming, collar and cuffs’ of fur. The skirt is a simulated double one, with two rows of buttons, and the skirted coat is set with buttons over a Gold-embroidered vest. The Redingote Style. One can't help rejoicing over the return of the redingote style of dress, for there are so many shapely garments to be fash- for ed on the princess plan, not the least be- coming of which are the long close fitting ‘wraps, which may be worn everywhere, and irto which the most elegant materials en- ter. One of the simpler styles is a nut drown crepon in the finer weave, which is made with a full godeted back, strapped seams and double breasted front, fastened with buttons of immense size. The French modiste, who designed it, calls it a “visit- irg” dress, but it is quite as serviceable for a shopping dress, and for traveling. A velvet collar would, of course, be admissi- tle, but plain stitching will otherwise fill the bill for trimming. : Ruffles and Belts. Now, that rufties are come back as a ekirt trimming, it is altogether likely that ‘We shail see heavy woolen gowns decorated with machine-hemmed rufftes! Such hor- rors have been seen in the past, and they ™®ill probably be revived. Silk ruffies hem- med on a machire are a perfect nightmare, but if you don’t watch your dressmaker, ‘hat is just what she will do for you, and often against your direct protest. Don’t let her guther your ruffles on the machine ther, or stitch them.on your dress with the machine. el re as popular as ever, and, of @curse, will remain so as long as the round waists stay in. A pretty fancy for a belt is fo make one of rings, crocheted with silk of the color you like, and then join the | rings in pointed effect, running the rows with bright-colored ribbons. No buckle should be worn with such a belt, but it should be fastened with a big bow or ro- sette, the color of the ribbons, with which it is run. The rings should be about an oe in diameter and at least three rows cep. A Handsome Biack © The woman who would look smart must have a black gown, and it must be of hand- scme material with all the dainty accesso- rics in dead black parflally relieved if de- sired with touches of white. It !s to be a winter of “all black,” and the most expen- sive of black at that. An elegant example of all black, which will be worn at an off- cial dinner party early in the season by a young lady in her second season, 1s of heavy black-corded silk, with a long French | name, though it is made right here in the Urited States, and it has a front of accord- ‘on-pleated black chiffon. The odd little peffing up the front i8 of the chiffon, and the falling ruffles are of fine black chantilly luce. The chiffon front is made over lus- trous white satin, and that is the only thing that relieves the funereal appearance of the young beauty’s dress. Remodeling Gowns. In remodelirg gowns, it will not be a very expensive undertaking to make a very handsome garment, for there is not much change in the skirt, and the bodice may yet remain round. The foot of the skirt may be fre d with a band of plaid velvet, for instance, and the seams corded or strap- ped with it. Then the belt, sleeves, collar and revers may be of the veivet, which will freshion and brighten an old gown wonder- fully. An elegant street dress like the illustra- ion may be designed of dark chameleon mohair in red and black. The belted blouse has a fitted lining, afd an odd effect of but- tcned down revers and shoulder straps. It festens at the side front, and has lapels and pockets. The hat is a striking example of the new velvet “shapes,” and has a simple knot of velvet and ostrich tips for trimming. = Love and Tattooing. From the Waterbury Times, When young anc poor one of the now wealthy citizens of Waterbury, Conn., loved a poor end beautiful maiden. So much did he love her that he had her name ard a striking portrait of her tattooed on bis right arm. Her parents opposed the match, and forced her to wed a rich suitor. The ycung man vowed he would never marry, y bachelor. He became many tir: as the man who had wrecked his youth’ ream of love. A few weeks ago he capitu- lated to the charms of one of Derby's fair belles, and proposef marriage. She ac- cepted on condition that he should have the tattooed reminiscence of his first passion removed. The sight of the symbol couid rot fail to prove embarrassing to both. A doctor was called in and performed a pain- ful but not dangerous surgical operation, and the counterfeit presentment of his first leve was replaced with an ugly scar as a reminder, so he now says, to his soon-to- be bride of the folly of youth. See No Doubt About His Meanness, From Pearson's Weekly. To the large number of stories of the “meanest man,” which are frequentiy re- lated, one should be added of a certain Frenchman, famous for h!s habit of grum- bling at everything and on every occasion. He was attacked by inflammatory rheuma- m, and was carefully nursed by his wife, who’ was very devoted to him, in spite of his fault finding disposition. His suffering caused her to burst into tears sometimes as she sat by his bedside. One day a friend of this invalid came in and asked how he was getting on. “Badly, badly,” he exclaimed, “and it’s all my wife’s fault.” “Is it possible?” asked the friend, in sur- prise. “Yes. The doctor told me that humidity was bad for me, and there that woman sits and cries, just to make it moist in the room.”” ee eee Safer Than Lightning Rods. From Pearson's Weekly. Each day adds some new virtues to the long list of those already credited to the pneumatic tire. The latest of these is that the wheels of a bicycle being encircled by a band of india rubber and dry air—which is a perfect insulator—the rider is completely insulated from the earth,and, consequently, is impervious to the attacks of the electric fluid. Any one who suffers from nervousness during a thunder storm has now only to go into the diaing room or the cellar and seat himseif upon the saddie of a pneumatic tire bicycle to be perfectly safe from lightning stroke. As the chances of a man on a bicycle being struck by lightning have been carefully calculated to be about one in a billion, there will, of course, be some pessi- mists who will deny that this newiy discov- ered virtue of the pneumatic tire amounts to very much. -——eee- jively attired and “My dear, look at me, I have lost fifty pounds in a month and a half."—La Cari- cature. PEOPLE WHO FIDGET They Unconsciously Make Them- selves Disagreeable to Others. BAD HABITS UNCHECKED Spoiled Children Often Become Fidgety Adults. SENORA SARA’S COMPANIONS Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. GALENA, Missouri, October 7, 1895. IDGETY PEOPLE Ress me to despera- tion! And.in my opin- ion, lack of repose is criminal negligence. A woman with the fidgets is an object of pity, but a man with the fidgets is a posi- tive disgrace! One naturally looks for a woman to do just about so much fret- ting and fussing, but a man is expected to be “better balanced.” It was my ill luck to ke “booked” for a berth cpposite a fidgety man on my journey to this point, and my nerves were worn to a wire edge before he left me in possession of that end of thé car. In the first place, there was something the matter with the cushions of the section as- signed him. He tried both seats, bounced THE NEW ‘OMAN'S SHOE, A Noticeable Change of Shape at the Prow—Other Feculiarities. From Shoe and Leather’ Facts, A contemporary récéhtly, in commenting upon women’s shoes, for the coming season and the “coming weman,” remarked that “there is a noticeable change of lines at the prow. Although the ’‘slender-pointed toe has gained a strcng hold ypon feminine tastes, the idea is, nevertheless, growing that the extremes in these shapes are not good for the welfare of the foot, and in many in- stances they are far from comfortable. De- signers have been busy on new lines in which the sharp tip has been slightly clip- ped, leaving a narrow front, but not a fine point. These have a ):ss pinched and re- stricted look. and will be popular.” In uni- son with the above statement, which fairly represents the prevalent sentiment regard- ing this matter, below is presented an illus- tration of the “New Woman” shoe recently designed: In outline this new design is very striking as well as novel, and its almost fauliless contour well adapts it to be a success in the line of comfortable footwear, as weil as presenting a fine appearance when worn. This shoe is very handsome when made in a Goodyear welt, with an enameled vamp, blue cloth top, and wide welted seams, and embellished with six larga buttons. It can also be varied in construction by making it in polish, either with Russia, patent or enamel leather vamp and cloth top; or the top may be of leather of a light- er shade than the other parts of the shoe. up and down, punched them, and poked them. Then he wanted the pillows got out for him. The porter smilingly dressed the imitation postage stamps in muslin garb and piled them invitingly in the corner next the window. The pillows settled, the curtains next received his attention, and he had one of the heavy spring shades tum- bling about his ears in half a minute. He began to fret, because the Pullmans in their grasping monopoly were putting up inferior cars. The porter smiled, but said nothing, and I smiled, too. He was riding in a Wagner car! The curtain fixed, Mr. Fidget ordered his “grip” brought from the end of the car, describing it carefully, as he had two big ones there. The porter brought it, but it was the wrong one, and Mr. Fid- get “dear deared” and fretted till a cross baby behind him stopped shrieking in sheer despair at teing outclassed at its own game. When Mr. Fidget had fished out a hand- somely bound copy of Bacon’s essays, and doubled up in his pillowed corner to read. he began to tap the window with his ring- ed hand, and the clicking wakened the cross baby, whose head was close to his own. Then’ he nervously tapped the book with his long fingers; he ran the leaves through his left hand While he read away, holding the book with his right. He had a metal paper knife, and he began to beat a tattoo on his strong white teeth with it. He laid his book down and dusted his shoes with his handkerchief. Scarcely had he picked the book up when he laid it down to ring for his other valise, which he rum- maged for a clean hand! ief, to find it in the first one brought to him. At the place where we stopped for din- rer I had to sit opposite him again. He played with the salt till he spilled it. He yorked ge rie designs .on the table oth with his knife, balanced his knife and ferk, broke up bread and rolled it into round wads, while he nervously talked pol- itics with his rext neighbe The The female and doctors emale Fidget. fidget is a holy terror. Both that women en- t deal more fortitude than men, but when a woman does fidget she is worse than a nest of hornets for stirring things up. There was a fidgety woman on the car, too. She was attract- rather pretty, but her Gress skirt troubled her, and she spent most of her time adjusting it so that it would not get crushed. ‘The waist was also a source of troubie, and she kept pull- ing it down. She arranged the fringe of blonde hair cver her forehead at intervals of five minutes, in the long, narrow mirror beside her, and puiled her gloves on and off till she tore off the fore finger of one. She dusted her hat every half hour, always calling the perter to take it down from the hook for her, and she ostentatiously rear- ranged at frequent intervals all the silver bottles -a-brac of her brand new toilet cas ‘The lady looked to be a real one, and the man a gentleman, withal, yet those two persons were an annoyance to the dozen others who were forced to travel in close contact with them for one whole day. Gen- ileman and lady though they were, they broke every minute some little law of eti- quette, for the first and great law of so- ciety is “repcse. if the fault is one of training, and most likely it is, one ought to rid himself of it before inflicting himself on the public. It is simply unpardonable fcr a lady to make ker toilet in full view of the public, and quite as unpardonable for ner to keep ad- justing it, when there are toilet rooms especially provided for that purpo! Bad Habits Should Be Checked. It is not always the nervous person who is fidgety—if it were one might forgive the sorry breaks that some of them make—but it is the man or the woman who ought to know better, and would know better than to grow so insufferably disagreeable if only warned in time of the habits taking such a strong hold upon them. They are habits which are formed in youth and should be pruned and lopped off in their incipiency by those who have the rearing of the boys and girls who develop such disagreeable traits. It is unpleasant to sit at table with a child that eats soup audibly, yet it is ten times more aggravating to have to endure the same trial when the child has grown to a man or woman. When a child shows a disposition to be “finicky,” or over nice about its belongings, or gives its when de- nied gratification of its absurd whims, then is a good time to begin to teach it some good “horse” sense. All mannerisms should be rigidly suppressed, because they ‘grow into eccentricity with age and absurdities with gray hairs. Instead of continually saying before the child that it is ‘so odd” and so “pernickity,” and peculiar, and headstrong, and a dozen other things that are simply tolerable in a child and detest- able in an adult, if you were to coerce it in some way or another into doing the right thing you would be making your own path smcother and that of your ward as well. It is the finical child who makes the fidgety adult. In the case of the man who made a whole day miserable for a carload of people with his old-maidish fault-finding, it is more than probable that his mother fed him on the idea that he was superhumanly dainty, and that he should be pampered and cater- ed to till he actually came to believe that DIVORCES IN JAPAN. They Are Secured With Great Facility —About Mixed Marriages. Jokn A. Cockerill in N. Y. Herald. One great drawback to womea in Japan is the facility with which divorces are se- cured, and against this immemorial custom the efforts of the reform women of the country must be directed. Both marriage and divorce are easy here. In an essay written long ago by the celebrated moral- ist Kaibara it is laid down that there are “soven reasons for divorce,” that is, seven shortcomings for which a woman may be put aside. A woman may be divorced if she disobeys her father-in-law or mother- in-law, if she fails to bear children, for lewdness, jealousy or leprosy, or for st ing or talking overmuch and prattling dis- respectfully. Once divorced, a woman is covered with shame, even though she enter into a sec- end union with a man of position and wealth. When a man wishes to be di- vorced from his wife he simrly writes a letter to her adv er to return to her parents. He may write a letter to her fa- ther, if he be living, or to her brother, to the same effect, and then he goes to the registrar's office and reports hiinself a di A woman may quit her husband with no mony, bat she suffers great sti divorcing hersélf. When families ma in break up in this free, offhand y if there any, ment or the ar fend. Divorces’ the upper clas: abandant among the lab In the year there in Japan and 11 ly about ‘1 y a tra are were jages to obey in all things and be t al that she has a home, be it humble er otherwise. ching the tonic of women The wom: clerks time, achments eventuate foreigners some of t om happy. The women m ent wiv and the offspring of the: riages are u: andsome an looking. I have ome really be: ful half-breed c dren, but racially Japanese and the Caucas mate advantageously. he cpildren may not be lacking in phy: ually they seem to dwarf. ‘There is no account of a half-breed Juapan- ese amounting to even the proverbial row the ns do not amal- ef pins—that is to a n, ‘fhe Japanese and the Chinese intermarry con- is an improve- ne rst thing foreigners to apanese women jess all around. Japanese do not men who marry foreig: and, if he ith, ultimat has little or no stat ocially there proud people, the t to their wo- s in white eSs and ome of ve, is very sited homes in which the Ja seemed to Me respected,.and ¥ is begeis much bitter! life of hom olive-faced children were caressed and loved, but a majority of these alliances are unfortunate and ofttimes disastrous. = soe —— Ta » Hint From Mary. From Printers’ Talk. ye had a little Inmb; lo net look surprised; © you don Mary has widely a ed. And somethivg you may learn from this, If you are not a clam: You ‘can be just as widely known As Mary and her lainb. Your name can be a houschold word, And you be known so y That folks will confidently buy ‘The things you have to sell. And when you once have got yourself Into the cheering rays Of the sunlight of publicity, You bet your life it pays. —-e<2—___— A Bird That Poixoned Her Young. From the ‘Carson (Nev.) Appeal. It has been claimed by observers of birds that some of the feathered tribe will feed their young if they are cased, and if they fail after a certain time to release them will bring them a poisonad weed to eat, that death may end their captivit: About a week ago at the Holstein ranch the children ca da aest of three young orioles, and they were immediately vaged and hung in a tree. ‘Tne mother was scon about calling her young, and in a littl brought them some worms. She feeding them reguiarly for seve days without seeming to pay much attention to persons about. But on Sunday that demonstrated tne t came the tragic ending pory relative to birds. She brought them a sprig of green cn Sunday morning and disappeared. In less than an hour they al! died. ‘The sprig was examined and proved to be the deadly larkspur, a weed shat will kill full-srown cattle. The little creatuzes lay dead in the cage the only mission in life of those who svr- rounded him was to cater to his wishes. The young woman had doubtless been told from her birth that she was “the prettiest thing alive,” the “sweetest thing on carth,” the pet and pride of an adoring family,and pushed forward by admiring friends, and in order to display all her charms at one sitting she has become a fidget. The Fidgety Mother. A man said to me the other day that of all the wearing manifestations of fidgeti- ness the fidgety mother was the most try- ing. He said that his mother fretted from the first cold of her first baby to the last time her youngest son sneezed just before he was married, perfectly positive that death was shadowing each and every one of her nine children, every one of vhom was gray-headed and hearty when the really devoted mother passed into rest. “She fidgeted about our dress and studies,” he sald, “our companions ond amusements. Then she fidgeted about our lovers and sweethearts, husbands end wives, babies, housekeeping, our outgoings and our incoming’, and the dear old soul would be fretting today over her great grandchildren just as she did over us if she were living.” Mothers can break themselvés and their children of this habit if they will, and they ought to. SENORA SARA. and slightly foaming at the mouth, victims of their mother’s stern res offspring should die by her own act rather than live in captivi “There is certainly a strong odor of to- bacco. Does that policeman smoke?” “I don’t know, mum; he only died last week.” —Life. THE GIRLS’ AFFAIRS BY LOUISE R. PAKER. Written Exclusively for ‘The Evening Star. It would be a difficult thing to say exactly when Miss Ann and Miss Hannah Gossage began to figure in the world about them as “the girls,” but as “the girls” they flour- ished, the respect and envy of the neigh- borhocd. The home of the girls consisted of a two-hundred-acre farm and a brick house, the house alone giving them rank above their immediate neighbors. But there was another distinction that the girls enjoyed, they were “own sisters’ to Si Gessage, who had “got rich at the com- mission business.” From time to time Si brought his family to the brick house to spend Thanksgiving; occasionally, too, they turned up at Easter, and always some of the town Gossages spent the warm months in the cool delightfulness of the “old place.” True, the girls -were also “own sisters” to Benjamin Gossage, overseer to the Carmichaels of Nonesuch. But Benjamin had been a stubborn boy and he had grown into a stubborn man. It was no fault of the girls that he ordered another man’s teams instead of ordering his wen. Perhaps in Miss Hannah's heart th re was a secret satisfaction in being “own sister” to Benjamin Gossage, he was such a “powerful” big fellow, and he couldn’t be made to understand how it were possible for a Gossage to come down in the worl “If I was to put up in a mud house and cook my own victuals, I wouldn't think no less o’ myself on account o’ the change o’ circumstances,” Benjamin had said, cross- ing one tremendous leg over the other and smiling reassuringly into the face of Miss Ann. “As it is,” he continued, “my house is as fair as this’n, with a hall two fect wider. I have sent little Hanner Gossaze to the town school till she knowed more'n the teacher and I've married her well.” But there was a Gossage who had come down in the world, no matter what Benja- min might sy about the matter; this member of the family was Samuel Gos- Sage. once known as Wild Sam. He had gone west or south; Miss Ann <aid south, Miss Hannah theught west. Wherever muel Gossage had taken up his quarzers, he had net prospered. Vague rumors from somewhere—Miss Ann said from the south —reached them that he had gone from had to worse. He had been seen driving a herd of cattle over the prairie. It was gen- eraliy supposed that Wild Sam had degen- erated into a cowboy, and that was the end of him. Some years after the disap- pearance of Sam Miss Ann received a let- ter from the southwest, which she read through and then put into her pocket. To- ward evening she said to Miss Hannah that Samuel Gessage was dead. “Poor Sam is dead,” Miss Hannah found herself saying to the neighbors; but. why it that Ann had not shown her the er? Miss Ilannah was aware that even when telling the neighbors of Sam’s death she had seri misgivings about the fact. She could ni t prevail upon herself to feel that keen sow most good mortals feel over the death of a near relative, even though he isn’t as dear as he ought 10 be. But Benjamin Gossage also gave out to those people interested in his f: that he had one brother in the comm: place, who had recently njamin Gos in graves and one brother, died in in particular, ter of Mrs. tbing ase, east the graves on the em out and bury funeral, 1 hist a palin’ ‘em, around the . you ev s the prairie en the railro. bound to see two or three gray o’ that, and too, when they on reckon, Mr. ¢ as your wa hataway cn h Gos- a of ed to it with- 4 even grew although he had been the b t torment of her life d the one able figure on the old rot much difference in ‘ance of the girls. In age they were live years apart, Miss Ann being jer. ‘They both wore spectacles and both wore sacks. Their frocks hort in the s » Were neatly made of im pattern, hen 1 got the chip basket in one hand I ain't a gunro have train in the othe Aun had s in the nto pefare the they rather ou glas: the ner, ile I got the needle.” had sighed for a i three cow the according to Mis: an ought out frequently to read 's held full p >y were, therefore, in tances and a fit subject for re- RVY. very uneventful since the iniellig death had be the girls, continuing changed but very little in appear: They still spoke with satis? of th brother in the commission business were a trifle more pl jamin’s position as oversee had, in fact, paid a recent vi such, had found Go: spectable quarte years had ce of Samuel Goss ed by Miss Ann, to prosper, passed ge's nd had Ann it to None- x6 in exceedingly re- familiar terms with John Carmichael,” had had Mrs. Carmich. ael call upon her, and felt altogether as. sured that Benjamin Go: lar and will ever ing her fan a: ingly to Mrs id, wav: ng half condescend- “He comes of good Go: ge. stock and folks know it.” The girls were contemplating a visit to Si's wife with the four younger children, and were accordingly in a fluster of prepa~ ration, when another event happened. Miss Hannah Gossage received a letter from the southwest. Unlike her sister she ear- ried the letter about in her pocket all day before reading it. That night she turned upon Miss Ann in their bed ro “Sam, Samuel Gossage,” cried Miss Ann. “What's Samuel Gossage got to do with us after all these “He's dead,” said Miss Hannah. Miss Ann ‘backed against her bed and gave a gasp. “We must send for Benjamin,” said Miss Hannah. Two red spots mounted to Miss Ann’s cheeks. ‘‘Death’s a terrible thing,” she said, slowly, “and I hate to think every- body’s time is bound to come, but Benja- min Gossage has been tellin’ folks for fif- teen years that Samuel Gossage is dead. 1 ac! see no use of his tellin’ it over. I den’t see no use of givin’ out that his sis- ter lied, Hanner.” There was a faint apol- ogy in Miss Ann's usually masterful voice. “There's a little girl nine years old,” whispered Miss Hannah, feeling for her letter. “A little girl,” repeated Miss Ani her old sharpness returned. little girl got to do with me and you, Han- ner?” “The letter’s from Sam before he died,” faltered Miss Hannah “it wa’n’t to be sent till he was dead. He’s wantin’ us to take the child; he wants her to meck it up to us.” Miss Ann’s face was hardening visibly. “I'm gettin’ along in years,” she said, “and I've always been regarded as the head o’ this house. I’ve done what I could to keep the Gossages where they belonged. I give out that Samuel Gossage was dead when he made a low marriage. Dos the letter state as he married a play-actor’s daugh- ter? Where's she?” “Dead,” said Miss Hannah, in a low voice. “We'd best send for Benjamin Gos- sage.” The day after he was sent for Benjamin Gossage walked up and down the parlor of the home place in a perplexed condition. He had got it into his head without much difficulty that Sam was dead; he had ac- | cepted a graphic description of a_ prairie | grave in connection with Samuel Gossage, deceased. Not to believe fifteen y. af: terward that the palings were beginning to lean inward over Sam's grave was a very difficult matter. ‘Jest buried last week,” he muttered. “Well, well!” Miss Ann and Miss Hannah were also in the parlor, Miss Ann with her head in the air, fanning herself slowly and deliberately, Miss Hannah keeping nervously in the background. “Buried jest last week, and in a town, too,” repeated Benjamin; “well! well! Yes, of ccurse, Hanner, we've got to teli the neigh- bors. Ann considered as she had good rea- sens for givin’ out his death fifteen years ago, but it kind o’ complicates affairs hav: Samuel Gossage a dyin’. twice.” “There is no need for Samuel Gossage to die twice,” said Miss Ann icily. “There ain’t no need fer me and Hanner to raise a play- actor's granddaughter.” sagilgnee!” roared Benjamin; “she’s a Gos- ze. “Sam was not a Gossage,” said Miss Ann firmly; “the was the only Sibley amongst us. I defy any one to tell me to my face that Samuel Gossage wa’n't a Sibley.” “I will explain to the folks about that it was a family mistake about Sam bein’ dead fifteen years back,” said Benjamin, ran- ning his great hand through his’ hair. “That'll make matters straight.” fou mean that the play-actor’s daugh- 's child is to be taken in here?” demanded s Ann; “that she’s to be livin’ in. thi house when Si Gossage sends his childrer out to spend the summer; that they're to play with her when they're not allowed to play on the streets; that they’re to set up to the table with her; that she’s to call me and Hanner aunts?” “I don’t see how as it can be otherwise,” sa‘d the big man. “And do you know what she'll be like?” went on Miss Ann, shrilly. “You remem: Sam, how folks was al'ays taking him for the hired boy?” Miss Hannah, imploringly, ig about him when he were Miss Ann, sharply. “Samuel ge was a disgrace to the name he bore. I couldn’t keep him patched. Now, s'pose you think I'm to patch fe? his girl? If she comes into this house, Benjamin Gos- sage, she comes as a servant. Her father was took for the hireling; she can be it. She can wait on Si’s baby; she shan’t come a-callin’ me aunt; like as no she’s a Mexi- can.” Miss Ann was trembling all over w:th indignation. Even Miss Hannah was a Ettle frightened. “She's a Gcssage," said Benjamin, stub- bornly. “I'll give out to the folks about be- fore I leave how it were a family mistake about Sam bein’ dead.” “You needn’t give it out fer’ my sake,” cried Miss Ann. “Samuel Gossage were dead to me when he married the dirt be- neath his feet. The girl can wash the dishes; I'll let the nigger g ‘She ain’t but nine years old,” pleaded Hannah, ‘It won't hurt her fer to wash the dishes,” said Benjamin, stoutly. “My own little gal used ferto wash the dishes.” S:’s children won't be allow her; the:r mother’ll not allow ii Miss Ann. gentlemen. “You mustn’t judge too quick,” said Ben- jamin. “If Sam’s letter hadn’t specially lo- cated her here to the old place I don’t know as Mrs. Gossage wouldn’t be glad for to let her in’ I'll see about "em sendin’ her over from the station as I drive a-past, and I'll e and give directions about the trip.’ The neighborhood did not blame Miss Ann age. “The Gossages come of good stock, and Miss Ann is proud,” said the people. “She ain’t a person to brook dis- srace. Sam’s child a-turnin’ up to be raised is hard on both the girls, but harder on Miss Ann than on Hanner. Hanner’ll wash and dress the child, and think as it’s all right, but Miss Ann, she’s partic’lar "bout the blood.” Si Gossage’s children talked a great deal among themselves about the common little cousin who was soon to join them on the farm, and who was to wash the dishes and ake care of their baby. Mrs. Si said that i be very glad to have some one look after the baby, but she hoped the girl was n; Mrs. Benjamin Gossage’s had told her that Mexican girls were reless nurses, sirl came to the home one evening, when the 's late. The man from her baggage out at te, and told her to tell her aunts was there. “You run in quick em that you've come, and are »me’n to eat,” said the man ne turned his team about in the to cousin continued “Si’s children is born ladies and fer am’s little girl was st!ll lingering at nen Miss Ann Gossage, left in while Si's children were enjoying selves in the orchard, wandered down front yard. She caught sight of the Little girl's head, and called to her to come the frent way. Then Miss Ann found f look.ng attentively at the strange 1d, wondering where she had come from, spa deeng ng to herself that she was a ittle g: and putting her down 2 ily ia her capacious mind as a boarder in the neighborhood. The strange child, too, was attentively re- gard Miss An © liked the little cap, trimmed with lace, that Miss Ann wore in honor of Si’s wife; she did not find any ob- clious at all to the sack that Miss Ann was calmly folding closer about her, and she rather ‘liked the short skirt, for Miss Ann ze had very pretty little feet. i don’t believe you know who I am,” said the hittle girl, a pink glow stealing into her rounded cheeks—and Miss Ann acknowledg- r heart that the child’s tone was that of a er ttle ledy, lower and softer and sweeter n the voi of Si Gossage’s girls—“I'm ttle Ann Gossage.’ As she thus introduced herself little Ann Gossage half leughed, while her big blue | she turned her face to ‘ sted her pretty mouth for Papa said you would be glad,” she red, “and I'm always going to be Ann Gossage never confessed to any ed little Ann Gossage twic stead of once; that she assured the sobbing said Miss Ann Gossage to Si's the next morning before the weary veler Was awake, “I don't want no talk foolishness as washin’ dishes takin care of the baby. You all are jest ng; this little girl lives here; belongs to the home place; you've got to be good to her. You know,” added Miss Ann, speaking te "s wife, “that me and Hanner have de- cided to adopt tke child; you tell the chil- dren yourself that she’s little Ann Gossage.” ee Love's Finances, From Life. De Garry. ‘AS you intend to marry her, why dii you consent to her riding a bicycle, on are so opposed to them?” I knew she would have y in the end, and I figured up that ng in now her father would have to Well, r the whee! Sa “Clear cut, you brute!”—Life, a +The mest t fascinating five cents’ worth on ‘carth.””—Boston Post. The: Black Cat. ONTHLY NAL. MAGAZINE OF HORT STORIES, te L $ No. 1, October, 1895. X GOLD TIME. By ROBERTA L 2p ee o-life’”’ story told just as it Agere yee eee, THE UNIURNED TRUMP. By BARNES MAOGREGGOR. A. thrilling tale of an American traveler's adventure “in a Syrian desert, told on board a tramp ferry boat. THE SECRET OF THR WHITE CASTLE. By JULIA MAGRUDER. A ghostly tale ?of love and mystery, revealed to one who sought seclusion in @ French chateau. MSS WOOD —STENOGRAPHER. By GRANVILLE SHARPE. A welrd and abe sorbing detective story, iu, which a sup- posedly deaf and dumb stenographer the central figure. MER HOODOO. By HAROLD KINS- AEBY. A providential encounter with 2 Colorado cow-girl college graduate, in which a- little speckled belfer plays an important part. IN_A TIGER TRAP. By CHARLES ED- WARD BARNS. An exciting experience in the jungles of India, which proves that the royal Malay tiger is mo gentle- man. THE KED-HOT DOLLAR. By H. D. UMBSTAETTER. The mysterious chain of events caused by a still more mys- terious coin. All for B Cents. AT NEWS STANDS ONLY. If your icaler husn’t it, MAKE HIM GET IT. the Shortstory Pub. Co., BOSTON, MASS. ri a | | FLESH REDUCED? DR. EDISON'S FAMOUS OBESITY PILLS, SALT AND BANDS JAKE OFF A POUND & DAY. DR. EDISON'S OBESITY’ FRUIT SALT TAKES OFF FAT AND IS A DELIGHTFUL, CHAM. 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Helen Wandall Sturgess. writing from ier ce on F street, sitys: Edison's Obesity Iss reduced my‘ welght 21 poets os cured, me of kidney troubles. “Dr.” Edison's Pills and Salt have cured my @rother, Col. Wandall of the | Department. of State, of liver disease snd reduced | bis weight 39 pounds tn forty-three day: Obesity Pills, $1.60 a bottle, or three bottles for $4, enotigh for one treatment. Obesity Fruit Salt is $1 a bottle. Obesity Bang, any size = to 36 inches, Is $2.50; 10 cents extra for each additional inch im length. Send all mail, express or C. 0. D. orders to us Retail drag tade suppiied, be E. P. MERTZ, Mth and F nw. c. C, G. SIMMS, Ber How to Cure ‘Obestin’? 24 nd for “How to Cure Obesity,” 24 newspapa columns, weitten by Gistingulsbed’ authors; numer ous illustrations and 200 testimonials. Mention address exactly ax given below: LORING & CO., General Agents, United States, Chicago, Dept. ‘No. 19, No. 113 State street. 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