name of GUMMIDGE might have been seen standing at the corner of a
wheat-field where two cross-roads met and embraced. She was weeping
violently. Ever and anon she would raise her head and gaze mysteriously
in the direction of a cloud of dust which moved slowly over the hill
toward the town. Her name was FATIMA. FATIMA GUMMIDGE. "Sister ANNIE,"
she cried, "what do you see?" But sister ANNIE was far away. She was not
there. She was attending an agricultural fair in the beautiful young
state of Kansas.

Thus gracefully do we introduce our heroine upon the scene. The reader
will be able to judge, from this, whether we are familiar with the
literature of our day, or not. He will be able to form a complimentary
opinion of our culture. He will perceive that we are acquainted with the
writings of Messrs. JAMES, and DICKENS, and BLUEBEARD. There is nothing
like impressing your reader with an adequate sense of your ability for
laborious research, when you are doing biography for a high-toned
journal.

At what period in her career our illustrious victim applied to the
Legislature to change her name from GUMMIDGE to DICKINSON, we are unable
to discover. There is no record of the event in the musty tomes we have
waded through at the Astor Library in search of reliable data. One thing
must be apparent, even to the most violently prejudiced and brutish
bigot--namely, that Miss DICKINSON no longer confesses to the name of
GUMMIDGE. However disrespectful this may be to the memory of Mrs.
GUMMIDGE'S father--but on reflection is it not possible that Mrs.
GUMMIDGE'S maiden name was DICKINSON? There may be something in this.
Let us see. Mrs. GUMMIDGE was born of the brain of Mr. C. DICKENS. Mr.
DICKENS may be said to be the father of the whole GUMMIDGE family. This,
of course, includes GUMMIDGE _père_. GUMMIDGE _père_ was therefore