The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1897-04-11
BESELENA'S PRATTLE.

Especial Correspondence of Record-Union)
PORTLAND (Or), April S.-The girl
was neither industrious nor methodi-
cal, yet WREN she gazed upon the cha
os that rejgned supreme in her top
bureau drawer, a pang of remorse shot
through her, and obeying a sudden
spasm of industry she drew out the
drawer and emptied it's contents on the
floor and sat down in the midst of her
ocean of finery. 1t was hard to tell
| just where to begin and she did not
particularly enjoy her self-imposed
task. She pulled at the end of piece
| of green ribbon until it became dis
entangled from the mass and gazed
upon it thoughtfully. 1t had been a
pretty ribbon once but now it's days of
usefulness and beauty were about
over; it was pricked full of fine pin
points where she had carelessly thrust
| her breast-pin, instead of in its proper
resting place-the pin-cushion. The
girl drowned the twinge of conscience
that came over her by the comforting
reflection that SO few people ever did
put things in their right places, any
way and continued her Investigations.
There were several other pieces of
ribbon all more or less in-pricked;
these she folded carefully and tucked
away carefully in the farthest corner
of the drawer. Here were three little
black wads which had once been wells,
but they We're irredeemably ruined now
from the fact that on several occasions
she had ventured out in the uncertain
climate without an umbrella. There
wonders vaguely where the fourteenth
can be? she gets up and looks in the
Japanese cuff box on the bureau but it
is not there, then she looks in the 9TH
er bureau drawers but the chaos there
dismays her and she shuts them hur-
riedly. Twelve handkerchiefS, all
clean but too mussed for use, as many
collars in the same condition, and
bottle of perfume from which the cork
had in some unaccountable way be-
come dislcdged and it's contents spilled
over bit of bright hued silk which
the girl had intended some day of max
ing into a stock, but which was now
quite useless, so it takes it's place be-
side the rumpled wells.
A little more rummaging brings to
light three odd gloves; the first of
these is a substantial looking red kid
very little worn and went with her BIZ
cycle suit; the girl wrinkles her fore
head into perplexed frown to think
where she put the other and suddenly
remembers that she lost it on the road
the last time she was out The next
is a pearl gray suede which she thrusts
hurriedly out of sight because it seems
to silently reprOach her with it's use
leSsness. She had come in hastily one
day and thrown her gloves on the
couch and then forgotten all about
them; when she remembered them the
next morning she was dismayed to find
that her brothers bull pup had chewed
one of them into a hopeless mass.
The last of all was a long white ey-
ening glove, somewhat soiled vet bear
ing about with it a distinct odor of vi
Diets. The girl looked at it tenderly
and smoothed out it's creases with a
loving hand. Once more she saw the
brilliantly-lighted ball room but of all
the gay throng who had been there
only one face shone out distinctly, and
that was the face of the man who had
been her companion from childhood.
Together, as children, they had played
all day long in the old-f fashioned sunny
garden where she lived There was an
ancient willow tree near a placid
brook, beneath the tree was a swing;
they used to call the swing their car