The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1874-10-22
Writing for the Papers.

Carrie Leslie had just returned
down the narrow, cuestnuu-shaded
pa tn that led along the river side to
the quiet old farm house where she was
spending those sultry summer days
a slight, violet-eyed young girl, with
long masses of gollen Eair, cheeks
rather pale, and a dress OF simple
French calico, made and trimm med
With her own hands.
/ Leuora Martin looked almost con-
1 temptuUusiy after her, as she stood at
the Dend of tue road leaning lightly
on MIR. Wyford's arm. Miss Martin
was tall and finely formed, with a
bright color, sparkling black eyes,
anu 8 Way of throwing her head back
as she walked. Moreover, her attire
was dainty checked silk, and she
Wore gold ornaments in her ears
and her throat. The two girls
we're of as different t. pes of beauty
as could be easily conceived,
''Isn'G 1t strange" SAID Lenora,
carelessly, "tEat Miss Leslie prefers
that horrible little farmhouse TO the
hutel, where everybody else that is
worth knowing stays"
Perhaps began Mr.. Wyford,
quietly, miss Leslie's taste"
"On it isn't that" interposed Len
ora, somewhat sharply. "It's from a
motive Of economy"
''Do you think So ?n said he.
''I am quite sure of it. Don't you
observe how snabbily she dresses
calico dresses, linen sets, and not q
jewel about her ?"
HShe always looks neat, am sure. u
hJust like mans verdict E' laugh
\ ed Miss Lenora. "But is il really
true that she writes for the papers ?''
"I believe so," answered Mr.. Wy
ford, as he walked slowly toward
Heathdale Hotel with his compan-
ion.
"But 1 thought people who write
for tue papers were always smart aud
brilliant, and Carrie is plain and
quiet" ssrrt &
''I don't altogether agree with eth
er of your inferences, MISS Martin"
"What does she write ?i asked
Lenora, sharply.
"Have you read those exquisite
! little sketches under the signature
of 'Clsrice,' in tho New York
Guest ?' o.
"On! Those insignificant little
affairs ! Yes of course I nave. You
don't mean to say that the editors pay
her for that silly, sentimental trash ?''
81 btlIeve they dO.n 1n aee
Miss Martin was silent for a mo-
ment or two. Devoted "a she was to
dress. show, aud thousand other
minor extravagances, money was q
considerable object in her eyes, and
she envied auy other woman who
had the faculty of earning il for her,
self
"Mr. Wyferd.n said she with lit
tie laugh that was meant to be c4pti-
vatIng, "wiJhout being e0Dceited, i
do believe could write a great deal
better than that 'Clarice's' nonsense.
It's 50 slmple-just like one person
talking to auOther-no fine words or
elevated phrases"
II am told that is considered the
chief charm of her pen,n observed Mr.
Wyford. Ff
II dare say it does very well when
they can't get anything 'better," "
said Miss Lenora. snow I've got the
plot Of q charming Moorish stJry iu
my head, with old castles like the AL
hsmbra in il, and q band of robbers,
and a magician in a velvet robe, and
but Just wait until I write it out, and
will read it to you. Don't you think
the New York Gatest wOuld be de-
lighted to publish iJ?'' tF-tE 3
fsReally," said Mr.. Wyford dubious
ly, II hardly know. 1 believe the
quiet impersonations of every day
| life"
HPshaw ~ said Miss Martin, conf
IDENTIFY. "Who cares for everyday
/ life when they can read of robbers and
bandits caves? ] think shalt cail il
The Scourge of the MOOrs.' Or,
| would Black Alfonso, or the Brig
andis DOOM be better? but here we
are at the hotel and 1 must run and
get ready for tea"
Lsnora was thinking. however, OF
"Biack Alfonso" all the time she was
brushing out her back ours. As she
went down stairs she met Mrs. Elliot,
the judges wife, the greatest lahy in
al the hOtsl limits, busting down In
her silver gray silk.
"Why Mrs. Elliott What's the
matter ?f said Leuora, as she detected
the traces Of tears on the lady's cheek.
"You have been crying "
Mrs. Elliott laughed.
"And am not ashamed to. confess
it, either" she said. "I have been
crying, Miss Martin, and 1 don't
know who can help it whenF they
read Clarice's' beautiful skrteh pub
Iished this week in the Guest, about
little Harry's death. Have you not
seen the Guest ?" 49,
itNo mz'am," said Miss Martin,
arehing her upper lip with rather 8
oontemptuOus curl.
"No? well I'll send it to your room