Evening gazette, Saturday, May 21, 1898 · page 2

 

 

 

 

' T HE E v EN in e e AZ E T TE; __

 

 

 

BEGIN ;

THE YEAR

898

RIGHT '

 

BY

e UBSCRIBING

FUR,THE

 

AND

, ‘ N. Y. WEEKLY TRIBUNE.

 

Born PAPERS

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Sent to anv Address

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FOR.
One -"-‘-1 Dollar!

ADDRESS ALL. ORDERS To GAZETTE. .

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property,

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i . , . .
' THE INHERITANCE. _

a- - ‘BY EBEN E. REXFORD.

There were two Elizabeth Stetsons.
One was commonly spoken of as “the
old maid,” or “old maid Stetson,” and
the other as Lizzie. Lizzie was a girl
of eighteen, pretty and pleasant, and a
niece of Miss Elizabeth’s. '

Miss Elizabeth owned a little farm on
the outskirts of the village of Still-
. water, and her niece lived with her.

Now Lizzie, being a very bright, at-
tractive girl, had plenty of would-be
suitors. But only two of them found
much favor with her. One was John
Holbrook, the principal of the village
school, a young man of unusual ability,
who was trying to earn enough to fit
himself for a professorship in college.
The other was Rodney Dane, a young
manlately from the city,who seemed to
have taken up his abode with some rela-
tives in Stillwater. He was a showy,
brilliant fellow, in a way, and had the
advantage over Stillwater young men
because he had more familiarity with
social life as it exists in large places.
He outshone them at all the village
gatherings, and made them feel awk-
ward, and lacking sadly in all the
graces of politeness and good breeding,
for which they hated him most cordial-
ly.

“I suppose you know all about old
maid Stetson’s streak of luck,” said a
friend to Dane, one day. “I presume
you heard of it right away after it hap-
pened, as you’re so intimate there.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” answer-
ed Dane. “What is it?”

“A brother that went to California
years ago has died and left her all his
money. I haven’t seen anything about
it in the paper, but Joe Reed told me
he had.”

“How much money had he?” asked
Dane.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” was the
reply.

“Not a great deal,” said Dane, care-
lessly, “but then, it’s worth having.”

“I should say so,” responded the
other. “If the niece had only been the
lucky party—eh, Dane! ” and the young
man laughed as he slapped the other on
the shoulder. “But it’s all right as it is:
one man ought not to have all the good
things, and Lizzie Stetson’s a fortune
in herself.”

Dane hunted up Joe Reed. Yes, Reed
had read about Miss Elizabeth’s legacy
in a Greeubush paper. It seems that
her brother had lived in Greenbush. No
one in Stillwater knew anything about
him. ’

fied himself that the rumor was well
founded. Miss Elizabeth had been to
visit a city lawyer recently, and several
legal-looking documents had come "to
her through the post—office lately.

“She‘s proving her claim to the
doubtless,” thought Dane.
“They’re a close-mouthed set. these
Stetsons, where property is concerned.
They don’t let on to me about it. But
it’s just as well they don‘t, for they
can’t say it's the money I'm after if I’m
not supposed to know anything about
it. I’ve a good mind to transfer my at—
tentions to the old lady.” He stopped
and thought a moment. “I will!” he
declared impulsively. “I haven’t com-
mitted myself in any way to the girl.
I’d like her and the money, too, but if
I can’t have both I‘d prefer the money,
even if I have to take the old maid to
get it.”

So it came about that Rodney Dane
became less attentive to Lizzie, by de-
grees, and showed a disposition to cul-
tivate the society of her aunt. And
Miss Elizabeth, realizing that her
matrimonial chances were slim, was
disposed to look' with favor upon his
advances. If she let the opportunity
slip by without taking advantage of it,
she would in all probability never have
another. She had long ago given up all
hope of finding a husband. Now it
really seemed as if fate had something
to do with sending her a suitor—and
such an attractive one, too—and she
felt as if it would be flying in the face
of Providence not to accept the chance
held out to her. t was now, or never.

“I know it isn’t me that he’s after so
much as it is my property,” she told
herself. “But then, if I marry him I’ll
have a husband and I’ll have the prop—
erty, too, and I’ll see that I keep it.
If he thinks he’s' going to have the
management of it, he’s mistaken, but it
won’t do any harm to let him think so
for a time. I’ll explain that to him
after I’m sure of him.” '

When Lizzie saw the turn affairs
were"takin-g she was naturally sur-
prised, and a good dealindignant.’ She
had cared nothing for Dane. The young
man who imagined she was playing
him off against Holbrook for the sake
of flirtation had been correct. in his
opinion. Butvit roused her resentment
to have him"? transfer his attentions so
coolly to-‘her'aunt, because persons
would be sure to say thathe- had been
amusing himself at her expense.

“What’s this I hear about Dane mar-
rying your aunt?” asked Holbrook, one
evening. “There isn’t any truth in the
rumor, is there?" ,

“I'm afraid there is, answered Liz-
zie, flushing up indignantly. “He comes
to see her every day, and she’s got so
she behaves like a girl of sweet sixteen.
I—I'm disgusted! I know what he
wants—it’s her property. , But he won’t
get it. I know Aunt Elizabeth too Well
tobel-ieve that, but she’ll let him think
so, and take him if she can get him. I
believe I shall try to get a place in
some store in the city. 0f course,.I
wouldn’t think of staying here after he
came here 10 live, as I know he will.”

“I don’t think you'd like working in
a store,” said John. “In fact, I know
you wouldn’t. I’ve a plan—in fact it’s
(me I’ve had in mi::d’for a long time.
but it hasn'i- seemed advisable to say
anything about it until now. I’ll ex-

!)

 

. , plain it'to you."

a z

\

I‘ ,1

He made other inquiries, and satis- .

‘but she thought it wise to say nothing,

 

Jonn fictnroon's plan was one that

seemed to meet with, the approval or
' Lizzie, andtthey sat and talked it over

until the clock struck midnight. When
they parted, the robin whose nest was
in the old cherry tree close by the
porch, heard a sound that was suspici~
ously like a kiss, and I presume she.
thought to herself that “they had come

to. an understanding.” Which was the}.

case. i

The next day Lizzie went to her aunt ‘
and said,—-— ‘ }
“I’m going to marry John Holbrook."
“I’m glad of it,” said her aunt
.“John’s a good fellow. Then she tried '
to blush, and only succeeded in looking
foolish, but finally she managed to say,;
“And I’m going to get married, too. ’
Mr. Dane proposed to me last night,

and I accepted him.”

“I—I’m sure I hope you’ll be happy,”
said Lizzie. '

“I am happy,” said Aunt Elizabeth,
with a sigh and a simper. “Mr. Dane is ,l
-—is somewhat younger than I am, but
true affection overlooks a slight dispar-
ity of years.”

Lizzie wanted to say “Fiddlesticks!”

.f.

and she got awayby herself as soon as
she could, to laugh over the idea of
“true affection” between her aunt and
Rodney Dane.

Two or three days after that she
called on some friends in the village,
and there she heard for the first time
of the Stetson legacy of twenty thou-
sand dollars.

She went home and told the story to
Miss Elizabeth.

“Don’t you see that this accounts for
Mr. Dane’s sudden discovery of—well,
regard, for you?” she said. “I under-
stand it all, now. It puzzled me to ac-
count for his beh‘kvior, but this makes
it all plain.”

“That’s as much as to say that you
wondered what he could see about me
to fancy,” said Miss Elizabeth, loftily;

“But surely you, aren’t going to let
him think you have fallen heir to
twenty thousand dollars!” said Lizzie.

“That’s nothing to me,” said Miss
Elizabeth. “I never told him so. If he
has that idea I’m not responsible for it,
and if he doesn’t say anything about it
tome I certainly shall not to him.”

“Yes, but when it’s too late,” said
Lizzie.

“Too late for what?” demanded Miss
Elizabeth, angrily. “Oh, I think I begin
to understand. You don’t want me to
get married, I suppose. I think that’s
very ungrateful, Elizabeth Stetson, af-
ter I’ve gone and deeded you that house
and lot in the village,” and her aunt
began to cry.

“Vi/hat I meant was-that I thought
it would be better to undeceive Mr.
Dane about matters and things before
marriage, rather than let him go on.
with the belief that he understood
them, and take the chances of what
might happen when he finds out his
mistake,” said Lizzie. “I don’t want
your property. I wouldn’t accept the
house and lot if I didn’t feel that it
really belonged to me. You’ve had
enough of mother's property to fully-
pay you for it.” ,

‘lien she walked away and left her
aunt to her own sweet meditations.

a: >.< :< ::<

Rodney Dane and Miss Elizabeth
were married. So were John Hol-brook
and Lizzie. They went to housekeep-
ing by themselves, at once, and the
man who had married a womn. nearly
old enough to be his mother took up
his abode in the home of her who could
never again be called “old maid Stet—
son.”

“How have you invested your leg—
acy?” he asked one day, a week or two
after they were married.

“What legacy?” asked his wife.

“Why-.-the twenty thousand dollars
your brother in California left you,” he
explained.

“I never had any brother in. Califor—
nia,” answered she, “and no one ever
left me twenty thousand dollars.”

Rodney Dane’s- face was pale as
death. He stared at her as if he be-
lieved she were trying to deceive him.

“Do you mean to say that there was
no truth in that story?” he cried.

“I suppose you reform the rumor
that I had had money left me,” she an-
swered. “All I ever heard about it is
what Lizzie told me. I had a cousin

who went to California years ago, from -

Greenbush, and he had a sister Eliza-
beth. Possibly he‘died and left her
some money. I don’t know anything
about it. But if any one has left me
any money I haven’t heard of it.”

Rodney Dane ground out an oath
through his set teeth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,"
said his wife. “It might give people the
impression, if they knew of it, that you
married me for the sake of the twenty
thousand dollars you thought I had
fallen heir to.”

“I did!” he cried.
I marry you for ?"

"For a living, perhaps,” responded
his wife. “That’s about all you’ll be
likely to realize from it, as long as 1
live.” ‘

She spoke truly. Rodney Dane, too
lazy to work, too poor to support him-
self, h-as settled down into a condition
of dependence, and lets his wife—whom
he hates, but tolerates, since it .is a
matter of food and clothing with him—
take care of him. And she—she has
the satisfaction of knowing that she is
no longer known as “old maid Stet-
son.” But Lizzie, happy Lizzie, thinks
her aunt paid a dear price for the privi-
lege of being called Mrs.‘ Dane.

“What else would

A Swiss firm has brought out a rib-
bon-saw worked by electricity which-is
able to cut logs over a yard thick:
The electric motor is of six horse-
power, and the saw runs at a. speed
of more than 10,0ft. per second. The
saw itself can travel along a track and
cut the logs from end to end as it

 

goes. _ -

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.. u...“

0

 

' 4 THE WEEKLY MENU.

SUNDAY. ‘
Dinner.—Consomme. Roast Ribs. of
Beef. .‘Brown Gravy. Mashed Pota-
toes. Browned Sweet Potatoes. Spin.
nach. Lettuce Salad. French Dressing.

Olives. Wafers. Cheese. Orange.
Short Cake. Coffee.
——--. Iii-air“-
MONDAY.

Breakfast—Fruit.
Sugar and Cream.
Rice Muffins. Coffee.

Luncheons—Cream; of Lamb. 7
Cold Slaw. Cake. Tea.-

Dinner.—Potato Soup. Fricassee of
Chicken. Mashed Potatoes. Spinach.
Cream Cheese. Tomato Salad. Choc-
olate Layer Cake. Coffee. ‘

Cracked Wheat,
Bacon and Eggs.

Rolls.

 

TUESDAY.
Breakfast.-—Ba.ked Apples. HominY.
Sugar and Milk. Broiled Chops.
Baked Potatoes. Toast. Coffee.
Luncheon.—Bread Omelet. ‘Home
Made Bis-cults. Quince Preserves.
Cookies. Cocoa.
Dinner. -— Tomato Soup.
Lamb, Caper Sauce.
Macaroni, with Cheese.

Salad. Snow Pudding. Coflee.

 

. ,gi’v.

WEDNESDAY .

Breakfast.4Shredded Wheat, iwith :5”

Sliced Bananas, Sugar and Cream.
Veal Sweetbreads. Rolls. Coffee.
Luncheon. — Veal Croquettes and
Peas. Cream Toast. Rice Pudding.
Tea. '
Dinner.—Corn Soup. Broiled Por-
terhouse Steak. Creamtd Potatoes.

Beets. Parsnips. Lettuce, French

Dressing. Wafers. Cheese. Frost—

ed Lemon Pie. , Coffee. qu': 1.
THURSDAY. ‘

Breakfast-Oranges. Oatmeal, Su-
gar and Milk. Poached Eggs dn Toast.
Coffee.

Luncheon.—Mutton Chops. French
Fried Potatoes Mustard Pickles. Cur-
rant Cake. Prunes. Chocolate.

Dinner. —— Vermicelli Soup. Beef
Stew. Baked Macaroni. French Peas.
Celery Salad. Wafers. Cheese. , Ham-
burg Cream. Coffee.

 

FRIDAY.
Breakfast. —- Bananas. Wheatena,
Creamed Potatoes. Rolls. Coffee.

Luncheon—Fried Codfish Cakes.
Stewed Potatoes. Beet Salad. Rhu-
barb. Plain Cake. Tea.

Dinner. -— Clam Broth.
Shad. Mashed Potatoes.
Plant. Spinach with Eggs.
Pudding. Coffee.

Planked
Oyster
Orange

 

SATURDAY.

Breakfast.——Hominy Grits with Su-
gar and Milk. Sausages. Bu’ck-
vheat Cakes. Maple Syrup. Coffee.
Luncheon. Scrambled Eggs on
Toast. Fried Hominy Cakes. Baked
Apples. Johnny Cake. Chocolate.
Dinner.—Clear Soup. Fricassee of
Chicken, with Dumplings. Riced Po-‘
tatoes. Succotash. Asparagus. Let-
tuce Salad, Mayonnaise Dressing.
Brown Betty Pudding. Coffee.

For the Tailor-Made Girl.
Close, trim and natty in eflect are
all of the new tailor gowns made by
celebrated French artists. Skirts are
narrowly gored, sleeves are carefully
fitted, and very slightly trimmed, and

 

 

 

 

 

yet, this season, these goods are more
difficult than usual to describe, be-
cause the beauty of the models consists
so much in the hang of the skirt, the
draperies and trimmings of the bodice,
and the artistic but indescribable
blending of colors.

 

A Stylish Sprlng Suit. ‘

Sage-gray, blue, green, brown, and
black cloth, armurette, or ribbed-wool
costumes are made with Slashed
blouse-waists, with under-blouses of
soft, almond-colored vicuna, overlaid
with narrow strips of the dress fabric,
edged with fine gold cord. The skirt
opens from belt to hem‘on each side,
showing an underdress of the vicuna
crossed all the way down with straps
of the gold-corded fabric, about three
inches of the foundation material
showing between the straps. This
makes a very stylish dress in’black,

with black braid and tailor buttons‘

for trimming and a guimpe 'or‘under-
blouse of black and white checked,
plaided, or dotted taffeta silk.

’Tis a bitter memory to think of
the wrongs we have done and might
have avoided.

What country is ruled by an inter-
jection? Persia; because it is gov-
erned by a Shah—pshah. ._

It has. ,never been ascertained how
much old”ocean measures round her.

 

- ,rey and melancholy waste.

5 omble days.

LITTLE ELIZABETH HARRISON!»

Her Coming to the Household Was
garded as a Public Event. ‘
With‘the exception of small Ru
Cleveland no othge-r young daughter
a. former President of the Unit
i’ States ever received such an ova.‘

‘ in the way of gifts on the day she fi-

made- her debut on this round
spere as little Elizabeth Harri .
The coming of a. little girl inito bu
the Cleveland and Harrison hio .-
holds» was regarded as a public eve
and friends and strangers alike vi-
with each other in manifesting on
interest and good will in the subsva
.tial form of presents of all lninds, . _
useful and ornamental, which delug-
the two households on these two me

’Roast ,' :1
Mashevaotatoes. .45
Watercress; i

 

' LITTLE MISS HARRISON. -_.
Little Ruth has grown to be a
girl now and three other baby to
hers have since come to swell

Cleveland muster roll; but Elizalo-
Hmison is still in her early babyh-
and reigns supreme as the sole
ruler of the Harrison family of .
This is the first time that her by
face has appeared before her m
well-wishers, Whose generosity
made her the heiress of so many
this world's good-s. , '

Elizabeth was born tin Invdianapo
Ind, about a year ago, in the fine r
idence owned by General Harrison
Delaware street.

Already she is quite a little tralve
for last Summer she spent at I
Forge in the Adirondacks, where :
father “owns a camp; in the Fall
made a journey to New York, whu
she held court, and was visited by .
social and political magnates of
great metropolis, and this Winter -
went on :to W’ashington and was tar
by the former President to the W
House to pay her respects to Presid
and Mrs. McKinley, who were delig
ed with her sweetness and good
lowship, for she is a. friendly tot, .
much enjoys good company.

She is the image of her father,
adores her, and who will sit by
hour holding her on his lap and bark
more real pleasure than all his pu‘
honors afforded him when he presi
as head of the nation. She has his
cessive white skin, a pair of big vi-
blue eyes, and a bewitchling littl-e -.'
pie in her chin, also copied from .
father's more staid one.

Her mother, who is the daughte
the first Mrs. Harrison’s sislte'r,
most devoted to the daily cane of.
precious daughter, and is showing ‘
usual judgment and common sens-
bringing up the little lady in a sim
practical manner as agelod, every-
l-ittle American and laying n'o Sit
on the fact that she will one day
henit a snug fortune of her own.

 

THE ERRATIC NEEDLE.

In One Part of Russia It Deflects I
g Ninety-Six Degrees.

I One of RuSsia's innumerable
teries is the erratic behavior of
magnetic needle in many parts of
great empire. The compass is fre
enough anywhere, but it seems to It
a particular delight in refusing to p-
north for the subjects of the c
, French and Russian scientists have
cently been investigating this sub
on the vast‘ central plains betw
Moscow and Barakov.

The greatest aberrations were fo
innthe province of Kursk, the cap
town of which is 'some 600 miles al .
due south of Moscow. In the' nort
part of the province, near Tim,.
needle deflects twenty degrees, far
south in the province of Staraoi
kol up to thirty degrees, while in
southeast of the province, about
miles south of Tim, the deflectio.
over ninety-six degrees, the -'
standing almost perpendicular
pbinting nearer east and west t
north and south. -

This reversal of the magnetic to
may have sOme curious effects.
number- of new railways are buil-
in that region and the engineers
interested in finding out whether
durability of their lines will sustain
long accepted theory that those
last best which are parallel with
magnetic‘meridians. As these run :
and west over a. considerable par
Russia, it will be the north and 3
lines that first show signs of w
awhereas such lines in other coun
are the more easily maintained in
pain—Boston Traveler.

Youthful Blarriages in Algiers.

A census was taken lately in Alg
and it ‘x‘V‘as found that the youn
Arab married man was twelve y-
.old and that there were very many _
who were married at thirteen and f-
teen, while some at fifteen years of
had several wives. There is a yo
ful widower of fifteen, and a. divo-
husband of the same age. Girls
still more precocious, and are so
times married when only eleven y
old, though twelve is the more 11
,age. There are 189 widows of ti
and 317“ rcees of the same a

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