The Washington critic., 1885-09-14
UGLY R0SANNA.

And Mr.. Moore gravcly answered his
wife:
But, my dear, you have already said
it 100 times, and were you to say it 100
times more Rose would not become less
ugly for your saying so.
Rosanna was little girl of about If.
She was their only child, and, to do her
mother justice, was really very ugly
nay, almost rcvolting-with her little
gray eyes, fiat nose, large mouth, thick,
protruding lips, red hair, and, above
all, II form remarkably awry.
Rose was, then, very ugly but she
was a sweet girl, nevertheless. Kind
and intelligent, she possessed mind
of the highest order. Nature seemed
to have compensated her with every
good quality of the heart for the want
of every beauty of person.
The poor little thing was profoundly
hurt as she listened to her mothers
observation ooh, you little fright,
you will never get husband.
Eight o'clock struck. Mrs. Moore was
sorcly veXcd.
"Go to bed, Rosanna
Tremblingly the little girl approach
ed her mother to give her the kiss Of
good night.
IT'S useless, you little monster"
said her mother.
A tear rolled from the little ones
eye. She hastily wiped ii away, and,
turning to her father, presented him
with the yet humid cheek. lie kissed
her tendcrly.
81 am not altogether miserable" she
murmurcd, leaving the room.
Retired to her chamber, she com
mcnccd cmbrodcring scarf and
worked thus part of the night for she
desired to be able to present it to her
mother when she rose in the morning.
The clock struck -. She had lust
finished it, and, putting it by, the little
girl calmly resigned herself to rest.
Her rcposc was undisturbed.
On the morning Rose presented the
scarf to her mother. What was the
pain the little one experienced when
her mother received it coldly, and cx.
pressed none of those tender sentiments
which were to have been tile sweet
little ones reward Her eyes, by
chance, glanced at II neighboring mir
ror.
Yes" she said, internally, Il am
ugly 49, they are right, - and she
sought in her young head to lind
remedy for uglincss.
And then in the world-ncw plngs
wounded the little ugly ones heart. A
first impression alicnated all the young
girls of her own age; but then she was
so good, so amiablc, so amusing that
they approached, then listened, and
then loved her. Now, indeed, our lit
tie one was happy.
One day Mr.. Moore went home in Il
violent passion and became in conse-
| quence of some triling prcvarication
highly incensed against his wife Their
domestic felicity was troubled for
eight long days-for eight long days
Mrs. Moore was continually crying.
Rosanna in vain rackcd her young
brains to discover why; but her father
still continued angry and her mother
was still continually weeping. At last
she reflected in her mind how to recon
ellie them.
They were all three seated in the par
| lor-Mr. Moore was arranging the fire
when this was concluded he threw
the tongs from him, snatchcd book
from the mantcl and opened it alb
ruptly, but, after moments perusal,
he closed ii again in violent manner,
cast fierce glance mt his trembling
wife and hurricdly rose from his chair.
Rosanna, deeply moved, clasped her
arms about his neck rs he was about to
rise and atfcctionately carcsscd him. He
could not reject her innocent coaXing,
and the little girl, thinking that she
had succeeded in touching his heart,
took in her hands the moistcncd hand
kerchief, whcrewith her mother had
been drying her weeping eyes, and
dried them second time Herewith;
she then tcndcrly embraced her mother,
who returned her aiicctionatc caress
with all mothers fOndness.
The parties being now favorably dis
posed, naught remained but to estab-
fish the peace This was no easy mat
ter-neithcr would make the first over.
ure-and without the penetration of
little Rose reconciliation would not
then have taken place,
She took her fathers hand between
her own little hands and pressed it to
her bosom; she then took her mother $
hand and joined it to her father as it
lay near her heart Human pride could
resist no longcr-thc alicnated parents
rose at the same moment and cordially
embraced each other.
From that hour Rose was the idol of
them both.
Six years aftcrthis, Rosanua, the ugly
Rosunna, was the ornament of every
society to which her mother presented
her Amiablc, witty and observing,
her conversation was universally
COurtcd.
One summer evening the sun, which
during the day had shed over nature
nm intense heat, had just disappeared,
leaving the horizon covered with long,
wide braids of rcd-clouds more and
more dark were hcaping themselves on
the eastern Sky-thC atmosphere was
sullocating, and one would deem the
earth was returning to the sun the heat
she had been receiving from the latter
during the day. All was heavy and
wcary-the air inhaled seemed rather to
sullocate than uourish. \ droWsy Ian
guOr OverCamc every one.
In salon, whose every window was
thrown open, might be seen gliding
here and there in the darkeucd light,
groups of young females, whose white
dresses, slightly agilated by the rising
breeze Of the evening, offered some
thing mysterious and poeticul wherein
the imagination loved to dwell. \ low,
languishing whisper was then heard,
like the soothing murmur of some dis
tant riyulct \ young woman, seated
before piano, was expressing her
hearts sentiments by au extraordinary
melody, now smooth and tender now
deep and trembling.
No more whispering, but a general
silence, took place for hers was Il
celestial symphony, seraph's song,
Lord Melton, fine, handsome young
nobleman, was so deeply touched by