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Harold White's Enemy. BY MARHDALE. The three magistrates had sat uninterrupted ly far into the antnmn afternoon, and had now retired to consider their decision. It was a dis tressing case and occurring in Singlebridge, which is a mere handful of a town, provoked in tense interest among the inhabitants. Every body knew the parties concerned. Silas West brook, the reluctant prosecutor, was senior part ner in an impressively solid firm which had flourished in the borough for generations. He enjoyed a reputation for strict probity and broad benevolence, which was singularly merited. His son, Augustus (also of the firm") a witness for the prosecution, was held in much esteem by T certain of the younger sort in Singlebridge, who sympathized with bis amiable wildness; and if certain ot the older sort looked askance at tlit-se, why, that was tne only natural. About Mr. Blanchard,another witness lor the prosecution, little was known to the inquiring gossips. He had been a resident with the Westbrooks for about fight months, during which period he had sat alongside Gus in thecflice in business hours, and had been a good deal about with him at oth er times. They got on amazingly well together, people observed ; but despite all his t florts—and some of these were marked enough—suave Mr. Blanchard failed to similarly captivate Gus’pret ty sister Fanny. As became her father's daugh ter, she treated the West ludian connection of her father's firm with unerring graciousness. But her sweetest moods, her tenderest looks and gentlest tones were Dot for him. The magician at whose bidding they so gladly came was Blan chard's instinctive foe. From the moment Har old White, con Aden lial clerk to the firm, and a potential partner therein, met ami simply shook hands with the West Indian, they hated each other with a haired that owed its sustenance od the one side to contempt, and on the other to malice and all nncharitableness. To-day will behold the trium ph or discomfiture of Blanchard. In the Police Court of Singlebndge, in the pres ence of a crowd of people, the majority of whom are personally known to him, Harold White stands accused on the united testimony ct the Westbrooks, father and eon, of embezzlement. To the prolound chagrin of the magistrates’ clerk, who, cordially disliking Blanchard, wish es well to the accused, the latter conducts his own defence. ‘Silence in the Court.’ Of the four actors in the little drama, old Mr. Westbrook betrays the most agitation as the opening of a door at the back of the Court, her alds the letnrn of the magistrates to their seats on the bench. The silt nee is oppressive, when in a voice lull of feeling, the chairman turns to the accused and says: ‘Harold White. 1, who have known you for so many years, need not say that the long exami nation which my brother magistrates and myself Lave this day conducted to the very best ol our ability, has betn to all of us fraught with con siderable pain. And we are bound to admit, in your bebalt, that nothing has transpired in the course of this hearing which reflects in the least on your conduct during the period to which I refer. We Lave given due consideration to this fact in your favor, and have come to the conclu sion, actuated by motives which w r e earnestly hope you will live to appreciate in a proper spir it, to dismiss this case. You may go.’ •But my character,’ exclaimed White,in avoiee husky with emotion. ‘Who is to clear that of taint 5" ‘Yourself,’ solemnly answered the chairman. ‘Call the next case.’ D. zed, tumbling under the influence of war ring passions, he left the dock and passed cut of the court into the sunlit street. Whither ahouiu he direct Lis feet? As he slowly and mechanically, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, with bowed head and leaden gait, stole along in the direction of the river-side, he felt a touch on Lis aim. He paused. It was one of Mr. Westbrook’s clerks. The lad’s mouth was tremulous with sympathy. ‘Mr. Westbrook has sent me with this note, Mr. White. Is there any answer?’ ■Y'es,’ he replied, tearing the paper into atoms, ‘there is. Mr. Westbrook wishes to see me. Tell him we shall not meet again until he is pre pared to stand up in that Court House and pray to be allowed to proclaim my innocence in tones as loud as those which housed to-day in declar ing my guilt.’ The lad left him. The September sun was setting redly behind a familiar belt of woods which tringed the lurther bank of the river as he continued his moody walk. He had held on for milts heedless cf the direction he took and now he awoke lrcm his fit of passionate bitter- mss to find himself on aspot that had often been hallowed by the presence of the girl he loved. What did she think of him ?’ •Harry!’ ‘Fanny!’ In those two words all was expressed. In that fierce embiace doubt was slain. O, Harold, I have followed you for hours fear ing to speak, you looked so pale and changed! ‘I sm changed. They have notsent me to pri son, Fan, but the prison taint is on me. Why don’t jou shrink lrom the moral leper, as the rest ot them have done?’ ‘Because’—and it seemed to him as though her voice had never thrilled with such sweetness be fore— ‘I know you.’ ‘And you believe—’ ‘That all will be right yet. I can wait, dear— if yen will let me. You were never more pre- cions to me than you are at this moment.’ ‘Miss Westbrook—come, Fanny, this is no place for you.’ Harold and she had not heard the footsteps. It was Blanchard and her brother, who had ap proached unnoticed. ‘And no place lor you either,’ said White to Blanchard. ‘Faugh!’ replied that worthy. ‘I have no words to wabte on such as you, sir. I am here to per form a duty.’ ‘Scoundrel!’Harold began, at the same time raising Lis hand. She touched him, and he was still.’ ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I am mistress of my own act ions. It I choose to accompany my brother it is because 1 choose! Harold, good-bye! Come what may my iaiih will not falter, my love nev er change.’ The last four words were murmured. As she shaped them she reached forward and kissed him before her brother, w hose surprise at her defiant attitude was unspeakable. They parted and went their several ways. The charge against Harold White ol embez zlement, and the result ol it, produced a won der that lasted much longer than the proverbial nine days. His departure the day after the hear ing, no one knew whither, had the (fleet of in creasing the du inter and sympathy of his friends. It was generally admitted that his defence had teen weak— incomprehensibly weak. But who knew ? He migLt Lave had his own invincible reasor s for not making it stronger. Why had the brother of his iffiaDced (for she was his affi anced in all but an open and formal declaration of the fact) broken with him so suddenly ? Un til Blanchard appeared upon the sceDe they were inseparable. Depend upon it, the West Indian was at (he bottom of it. In this fashion the gos sips ct Singlebndge discussed the events which had led to Harold White’s downfall and depart ure. Three months had elapsed aDd not a word had been heard of or from Harold White; unlesp.the female gossips suggested, he had written to Miss Westbrook, which considering his departure, he was hardly likely to have done. For once, however, they were out in their calculations. He had written her a letter in which these words occurred: •If I thought,darling, that yon would be happi er to be rid of me for good and all, our bond should be dissolved. It is your love for and simple faith in me that sweetens my life and keeps me steadfast in my determination to undo the miserable wrong from which I suffer. They shall right me yet. ‘I have borrowed, for the present, another name—my mother's before her marriage; but the people with whom I am,know that I am Har old White, and are acquainted with my history. I must try, dear, to mb on without the consola tion which yonr letters would bestow. It is bet ter that we should seem to have parted forever. In the good time we shall meet—and then!' It puzzled the well-informed Singlebridge to hear Fanny Westbrook’s cheerful words, to note her placid brow and bright manner. She never could have thought much of that Harold White, you know, or she would have manifested some regret at his misfortunes, Blanchard, too, was mystified by her. What did it portend ? Had she resigned all hopes of being restored to the lover whom ho had so ef fectually helped to disgrace and banish? Was the course clear at last? He would see. His impetuous love of the sunny-haired,Saxon-eyed girl, a love which sprang into existence the mo ment they met, had grown mightily since the going of White. He would put an end to this j uncertainty. He would face bis fate. ‘An interview with me?’ replied Fanny to his blan ily proffered request; ‘certainly Mr. Blan chard.’ Her tone was provokiDgly even. •And if yon please, let it take place now. Pray be seated.’ If she had only been embarressed. •Miss Westbrook, I —I—fear that the impres sion which I made upon yon the day of that un fortunate rencounter by the river-side was not fa vorable. I—-’ ‘Pray proceed, sir,’ she remarked in icy tones. •Well, then—allow me—you cannot surely have remained firm in the resolution you then expressed—to cleave to—’ •Mr. Blanchard, 1 will assist you. You ap- peareutly wish to say that I must have ceased to love Harold White. Is that it ?' •Miss Westbrook—Fanny—pardon me;I do. He is all unworthy of you. Oh, if you did but know the dentil of my love for you!’ ‘Stop Mr. Blanchard,’ said she, rising from her chair, and moving slowly toward the door. Let us understand each other. Whether or not Harold White holds the place in my heart which he once did, concerns me and me only. The honor you have done me, Mr. Blanchard—call it by what tender name you please -I despise. Mr. Blanchard I know you.’ ‘Stop, Miss Westbrook!’ he exclaimed, mak ing one step forward and barring her way in the door, ‘and harken to me. You have thrown the gague. Very well,I accept it. It was I who drove Harold White from Singlebridge. Ah, you can j be impressed, I see. It is I who can compel I your consent to my demands. Now, Miss West-1 brook, know me!’ Her face was very white as she swept proudly j past the West Indian, but it was not the white- j ness of fear. They measured swords with their i eyea-how clear and searching hers were!—and j parted. Next day Fanny Westbrook was missing from Singlebriege. For twelve months Silas Westbrook has been daughterless. Fanny was sought for far and near, hut without avail. Augustus had, to quote the idiomatic expression of that congenial com panion already referred to, ‘gone clear to the bad.’ Of all his former chums, Blanchard was ehe sole possessor of a knowledge of the young tcrapeglace's where-abouis. As itr iue Vesi sndian, he seemed to have entirely relinquish- Icl all intention of returning to Jamaica. How ever, we must for the present leave Singlebridge, and make our w’ay to the Theatre Royal, East- bampton. The house is crowded by admirers of the leading lady, whose benefit night it is. Old Fussyton, the stage doorkeeper, is at this moment in a state of mind bordering on despair. He dare not, for the life of him, leave his post, and he has just learned that a stranger has suc ceeded in reaching the stage under the cover of an audacious super. If that should come to the knowledge of Mr. Somerset Beauchamp, the manager, he (Fussyton) will, to a certainty, be dismissed on the spot. ‘Take a note to Miss Harebell, sir ? Could not do it. It’s against orders, sir.’ The speaker is a call boy. His tempter is Mr. Blanchard. •Very well, sir, I’ll risk it. If yon are an old friend, I suppose it will be all right.’ Induced to commit a breach of discipline by the bestowal of a rather potent bribe, the call- boy disappears behind a pile of scenery, and is presently heard in altercation with Miss Hare bell’s dresser. ‘What do you want? Miss Harebell is not ‘a beginner.’ She is not until the second scene. ‘I know that, Mrs. Cummins. I want to speak to you. Open the door.’ Blanchard heard no more. A whispered con versation between the leading lady’s dresser and she call-boy was immediately succeeded by the reappearance of that preeoccious youth, who aid, ‘Miss Harebell will meet you after the per formance, at her hotel, the George. She has private apartments there. All you have to do is to send in yonr name. And now, sir, do clear out of this. How you got in, I don’t know. If Mr. Bosham was to stag you, wouldn’t there be a shine neither.’ Meantime his note had produced a startling effect upon Miss Harebell. It ran thus: •At last 1 find you. In Miss Harebell, I have recognized Fanny Westbrook. At the peril of those nearest and dearest to you see me tq-night. I am desperate.’ ‘Cummings,’ gasped she, ‘lock that door. You did it for the best to get rid of him. It is always convenient to decline receiving a visitor at one’s hotel; hut I will see him. Finish my hair and then find Mr. Beauchamp. I would speak with him before I go on. Blanchard had again curiously undervalued the strength of his lovely opponent. She saw the manager, and exchanged with him a few whispered words. He grasped her hand warmly by way of emphasizing his chiv- alric intentions in her cause. Since that day, more than twelve months pre viously, that Miss Westbrook had merged her indentity in that of the now talented ac tress, Miss Harebell, Fanny had played many parts both on and off the stage. On this par ticular night she excelled herself. The applause of her crowd of admirers was what would have been termed ‘terrific.’ Such was the electric force ol her actiDg that it carried all before it. Was she playing up defiantly to Blanchard ? 1 "nThe conclusion of the play she, laden with boquets, retired to her dressing-room, and in a few minutes had resumed, with the aid of at tentive Mrs. Cummings, the attire of ordinary llf In the space of a few minutes Miss ‘Harebell’ was proceeding unnoticed, save by a group of her y outhful idolators who surrounded the pit- door, under the convoy of Mr. Beauohamp, to her apartments at the George. Before ascending to the staircase wnicn led to her rooms, she informed the maid-servant that probably a gentleman would call upon her. If he did she was to show him up, after having privately informed Mr. Beauchamp, who would wait for the news in the bar-parlor, of the visi tor's arrival. Mr. Beauchamp, whose face beamed with delight, nodded bis approval of this arrange ment Observed Fanny to him: ‘Now, Mr. Beauchamp, I shall leave yon to your devices (here she indulged in the tiniest ripple of laughter)—your devices, mind,’ ‘Very well, my dear, they shall be ready, if wanted.’ ‘And he—’ ‘Everything is ready Miss Harebell, and every body. Let that suffice you.’ Seated in her snug little room, Fanny dream ily awaited the coming of her ancient perse cutor. She had not to wait long. ‘Mr. Blanchard, ’m,’ announced the maid servant, and thereupon ushered that gentleman in. Miss Westbrook rose and acknowledge his elaborate bow with a silence that was full ot scornful eloquence. She then resumed her seat. ‘Miss Westbrook, can yon divine why I am here ? ’ Gh, you can? You are frank. After all why why should you not be? We can spare each other the recital of a long preface of dull retro spection. After a long and painful search I have found you—no matter how.’ ‘I know how,’ she calmly interposed. ‘Ah, ! ’ he exclaimed, ‘perhaps you would not mind enlightening me.’ His tones were sneer ing. Her perfect equanimity put him out. •Not at all. You got the information from my brother.’ ‘Even so. And—yonr brother? Has he in formed you also that he is just as completely in my power as was another person ot our acquain tance more than a year since? Did he tell you that there is in this bundle of papers that which would give him penal servitude if I chose to put the law in operation? Did he—’ •No, Mr. Blanchard, he did not.’ A tear had stolen down her cheek at the mention of Har old’s name; but now that she confronted the Westlndian.hereyes blazing defiance upon him. ‘He did not. Remove yonr mask. I can read the rascal underneath it. So, then, my hand bestowed on you is to the price of yonr silence concerning my brother's crime, if crime it be. But you have shown your claws too soon, sir; see that they are not clipped.’ ‘And who is to clip them?’ ‘I!' exclaimed a voice that came from behind the chair near which Blanchard stood, while at the same time his arms were seized in a grip of iron and wrenched violently back. ‘I—Harold White! Fan, take possession of those pa pers.’ ‘So you think to trap me, do you?’ growled Blanchard,actually foaming with rage; ‘butyou are mistaken.’ •Not a bit of it,’ observed obliging Mr. Beau champ, at that moment entering by the door on the landing. Coolly turning the key and plac ing it in his pocket, the manager of the East- hampton theater continued: ‘Now, look here, Mr. Blanchard. I have stage-managed too macy iittle things of this kind not to know what’s re quired to strengthen the situation. I have two of my fellows handy on the stairs. My prop erty man is on the other side of those folding doors. My friend here and myself reckon for something, to say nothing of Mrs. Harold White—’ Alts. Harold Whitt?’ gasped Blanchard. ‘Yes, Mr. Blanchard,’ releasing him and ap proaching her, ‘my wife. She always believed in my perfect innocence of the charge you helped to fasten on me, and when poor misera ble Gus confessed the part which he had played in the conspiracy, we got married.’ ‘Confessed—conspiracy!' sneeriDgly ex claimed Blanchard; ‘whereare your proofs?’ ■Here!’ replied Harold, pointing to the pa- pers, ‘and ueio they itiaHirt until — ‘Until what.?’ ‘Until the father of my dear wife has perused them line by line, and the magistrates of Sin- giebridge have made my innocence as public as a year since they proclaimed my guilt.’ ‘Then I may go,’ said Blanchard, after a pause; and taking for granted the consent of his temporary custodians he stepped towards the door, which was under the janitorship of Mr. Beauchamp. That gentle man gracefully waved him back. ‘You may 7 go, on one condition, sir—pardon me—and it is this: That you leave for Jamaica by a certain steamer ■which leaves this port to morrow. I have to-night bespoken your berth. I’ardon me—if you decline, take the conse quences, one of which will be the temporary oc cupation by yourself of a neat and commodi ous apartment within the precincts of Easthamp- ton jail.’ ‘Open the door.' Not another word did he utter, but taking his hat, and looking straight before him, he left the hotel and proceeded— not unattended—in the direcUon of the Jamaica boat. It was a pleasant hour or so which Mr. and Mrs. Harold White and their friend Beauchamp spent together that night. It was a more than pleasant meeting that took (dace a few days after in Singlebridge. Silas Westbrook’s hap piness was unspeakable. There was a streak ot sorrow in it, though, when he thought of his absent son, and prayed that the lad had turned over a new leaf at the other end of the world. Answers to Correspondents. Last week our senior deposited a brimming basket of letters in our sauctum, and calling at tention thereto, said, ‘this is a part of the cor respondence accumulated since the Department was discontinued,’ coolly turned this column in to our hands, hitherto rarely undertaking the task of answering letters in the S. S. and we regret to say too often procrastive in the matter of replying to those of dear friends and private correspondents. Numbers of letters in this heaped up basket are out of date—asking ques tions about matters that are now ‘dead issues.’ We select the latest,and promise attention to all who may write in future, provided these ques tions are not too many, and not so complicated or abstruse as to require too much space in an swering. * Mamie, Dade county, Ala.—Nothing to inter est yourself in—want something special by way of an occupation—something not altogether use less to fill up the tedium of a country life? We don’t blame you for tiring of working book marks and wall pockets; but have you tried the cultivation of flowers; if not, get one of Yick’s Catalogues and interest yourself in making your ‘country home’ a thing of beauty. Or try hor ticulture, raise grapes and peaches and dwarf pears or cultivate herbs for medical use. They command a good price. For a winter diversion, suppose you try drawing. Every lady ought to be able to sketch from nature, at least sufficient ly well to preserve her impressions of tine views or striking forms. It is astonishing how the beauty there is in form grows upon us when we begin to observe shapes and outlines with an eye to reproducing them. The beauty there is in the trees—in their naked limbs and slenderer branches and twigs outlined against a winter sky is wonderful. Or if you do not fancy drawing, what do you say to cooking? It is one of the fine arts now, you know, and it is fash ionable to know all about it. You can study the chemistry of cooking, and experiment to your heart’s content on the family stove. There are a hundred and one ways to amuse yourself. You might turn entomologist and make a collection of bugs or butterflies and have your name in the paper among the illustrous at your State fair, like Miss Alice Walton of Iowa who has collected over 1,000 butterflies. Roxy, Marietta, Ga.—‘Don’t yon think it fus sy and officious in a girl to be always putting her foot down upon the occasional drinking of young men?’ No, we don’t, we wish every one would put her foot down with a will on the neck of the national evil. They might crush out the fruitful source of more than half the crime and suffering of the world. The girls in Tuscola, Il linois, have level heads. They put a temper ance blue ribbon and a mitten on the table when their lovers come to visit them and say, ‘Choose.’ H. C. T. Cnsseta Texas, Father Ryan now lives, we believe in Mobile. His death at Chat tanooga of Yellow Fever was lately reported, but it whs Father Ryau ot the Nashville Diocese who died tnere. Father Ryan the poet-priest has lately written a very flue poem on the Terrible Pestilence. Some of its pictures are grand in their somber realism. A student of Hatcher's Station has had an ar gument about the way to parse ‘men’s shoes' in the advertisement—‘has a large stock of men’s.' shoes, lie thinks that mens is here used aa limit ing adjective and his friend contends it is a noun i in the possessive case. Grammars differ. ‘Stu dent’s’ wa> of parsing seems to us more sensible. Men s does not show possession in this instance, but merely describes the kind of shoe. Inquirer, Franklin, Tenn.—1st, Garcia was a Spanish composer, born in Leville, died in Paris in 1832. He was the father of the famous Madam Malibran—the tiaest female singer who ever iived and whose voice too early hushed in death, yet as Foe says she could not have lived ionger, fox she felt too intensely. In her devo tion to tier art, ‘she tried all feelings on her heart,’ and burned away her life. 2nd. The Carnival is a religious festival. It is derived from two Latin words, Carni-Yale which mean •farewell to flesh, or meat,’ because it immedi ately precedes the fasting days of Lent, contin uing through the eleven days that precede Ash- Wednesday.lt is supposed to copy the Saturnalia of Rome. 3.1. Queen Victoria has had 9 children all of whom are living, thanks to good inherited cons itutions and a sensible,unfashionable ‘rais ing.’ Their names are Albert Edward, Alexan dra, Alice, Louis, Alfred, Helena, Louise, Ar thur, Leopold and Beatrice. May and Bertie—two ‘wire grass girls’ say they are much in love with two worthy young gentleman who pay them nice attentions but wont pop the question. They want to know how they can fiad out if these are in love,or on ly amusing themselves. Their female intui tions ought to tell them if they observe closely and do not allow vanity or their own wishes to blind them. Be patient and do not seem over anxious, perhaps a littie more reserve and in difference would have a good effect. Make your selves loveable and leave the result to time. Meantime put a guard on your affections and don’t let them ‘run to waste.’ As to your sec ond question; Is flirting more pardonable in men or women ? we think it is n t excusable in either six, but more detestable in men. Alaman of Nashville asks if the little paper | Mile noticed in the Sunny South was a myth or ; a real mito. It is or wis a reality, but cold weather seems to have killed it with the rest of I the mites. Cecile Clive of Lagrange, Ga., says she is loved by an excellent young man whom she loves in return— sometimes', at other times she I feels so indifferent that she hesitates whether j she ought to marry him: what shall she do? | Sit down quietly and analyze her feelings. It will nut do to marry without love, and if she likes the young man in such an intermittent j way she had better wait and examine her heart. ! Girls often think they are in love when they are only flattered and warmed by the devotion of their lovers. Then again, girls are subject to these capricious chills—tits of sudden coldness and apathy that pass like shadows. As Josh Billings says: ‘Girls are curus critters.’ But marriage is a serious thing and must be serious ly considered before it is entered upon. Mrs. H., Corinth, Miss.—‘There Comes a Time’ will appear. It is good, hut we protest against the gloom and despair that it expresses. Life is so full of gloom, we would have pootry catch all its brighter gleams. When we publish a paper all our very own we mean it shall be as sunshiny as possible. ‘Let in the light' shall be its motto. No wonder Dr. Austin in his ‘ treatment for yellow fever ’ makes cheerful faces in the sick room a prominent prescription. Here’s a postal from ‘Annie’ of Jonesboro,Ga., which seems to refer to some decision given by our Senior in the correspondence column ages ago, as to whether it was correct to say ‘I feel had.’ He decided that the expression was in correct, and Annie takes him up neatly and wittily. She says: ‘It seems evidently to me that y ou decided ‘badly’ when asked which was correct, ‘I feel bad,’ or, ‘I feel badly.’ ‘Bad’ is not intended to qualify the verb ‘feel,’ but by the aid of the verb describes the subject. To convince you that I am correct, I submit the following illustration, in addition to the ex pression, ‘It seems evidently,’ at the beginning of the communication: Now do not get madly. Nor try to led sadly— Nor even forlorn; But try to l>e sweetly— Act quite discreetly And acknowledge the corn. Mrs. H. M. Lang, of Jasp°r, Ala., asks: Can you explain to me the meaning of Tennyson’s little poem, called ‘The Flower,’ beginning: ‘Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed, Up there came a [lower, The people said a weed.’ The meaning, disguised in fable, is that the poet may throw out a thought, whose sweetness and beauty the ‘short-sighted people’ fail to see. To them it seems worthless, until time or chance opens their eyes to its worth, then it is picked up, praised, brought forward, transplan ted into every lady’s garden, and finally does become as common as a weed—loses its beauty and delicacy by use and abuse. Ivathaleen and Maggie—are two young girls, who although they have well-to-do fathers, would like to make a little pin-mony for them selves, think of trying copying and ask the rates of pay. They will find it almost impossible to obtain copying at any price. The rate for copy ing State papers is ten cents per line, but of course it is impossible to obtain this. The few in this city who can get copying to do lrom law yers and authors are paid by the piece. R. Elizabeth City, N. C. What do we think of a young man, who has monopolized your time, enlisted your sympathy and affections, prevented the attentions of other suitors and encouraged the report that you are engaged to him, yet who all the while tells you it is impos sible for him to marry, though he says he loves you, wishes you to promise to be his friend ex clusively, to marry no one else and receive no one else’s attentions and now, when he,has man aged to connect your name intimately with his in society, he drops away from you, and begins paying attentions to another girl ? Dear R. we should say he was a dishonor able man and the sooner you drop him from your thoughts the better for your peace. Such butterflies often drain the sweetness of trust and love from women’s hearts for their own delectation and leave stings and bitterness behind. Beware of them. Good Handwriting Without a Teacher, What Home Practice will Do. GUSKELL'S COMPENDIUM! 0 WMii Designed lor seit-instruclio i in peuman-hip lor both gentlemen add ladies, ami all ages. Isa combination in four parts, viz.: I. Copy sips. 2. Ornamental sheet. 3 Hook of instructions. 4. i ase. Price One Dollar, post paid, Among the models for practice and imitation, it gives; BOLD BUSINESS WHITING, consisting of movement exercises, invoices, notes, ledger headings, model signatures, etc , etc. LADIES 1'KNM \NSUIP, of the most elegant description, as used in letters, notes, invitations, cards, and albums. t OKNAMENI’aL WORK. for those wishing to attain to the highest possible pro ficiency; off-hand flourishing of birds, swans, quills, scrolls, etc., and German text, old English, aud other let tering. All the above arc in the form of written and other pen exercises. They are accompanied with a small Book of Instructions, neatly illustrated, containing full directions for acquiring perfect comroi of the pen. and correctness in form. Improvement of those Using It. No teacher cm show greater improvement in handwrit ing from his persona! instruction extra ding over mo: tbs of practice, than we are able to exhibit from those using the Compendium, unaided bv anything else. We give a few perfect fuc-similes fcotu among the many sent ns. Old style New sty Mr. M. says: " In the fall of "77 I purchased one of yonr Oompendiums, and began to imitate yonr stylo. Your Book of Instructions recommends the muscular move ment. 1 had previously used 11.• ■ finger. In (> r e day X learned the principles thoroughly; and practice since then has developed your ideas.’’ L. Madamasz, San Antonio, Texas. Old style: New style “Enclosed find two specimens, one written before and the other after using your (\>mpra:dinm. j wisli you would tell me what you thick of ray writing, tor one who hu* never had any instruction, except from youri onipen- dinm.'’ W. H. Fairchild, Newtown, Conn. Old sty le: New style : Mr. Mohan writes: “1 send you a specimen of my writ- ingbefore and after using your t'ompendium, which I consider the best thing of the kind ever devised.” ,T. M. Meiian, Principal Ames Hign School. P. O. address, Nevada, Iowa. •‘Your Compendium has been a great help to me. Yoc will find enclosed two oi my autographs; one written be fore and the other after using it.” A. S. Osborn, Grass Lake, Mich, Opinions of tlie Press. The wonderful advance made by persons using “G&s- kell's Compendium” is a good evidence of the value of that sy stem. Professor Gaskell is a gentleman who knows what he attempts to teach.—Illustrated Christian Week- , ly, New York. ” lias received the highest commendation from those who have, by its use, perfected themselves in the art of pen- I manship.—New York Evening Mail. | This system seems to have won wide favor. Only fifty thousand have been sold. -Scribner's Monthly, New York. The art of elegant writing is here given in a nutshell- Any young man or woman can become a handsome writer if the directions as given are followed out.-Lowell '.Mass.) Courier. THIS COMBINATION COMPLETE, will be mailed to any address, postpaid, for One Dollar, Registered Letters aud Money Orders are perfectly safe, and at our risk. Address Prof. GEORGE A. GASKELL, Professor of Bryant and Stratton College, Manchester, Sew Hampshire, ♦Remember all letters are promptly answered. If you do not get immediate returns, write again and we will see where the fault lies. j^sf"Thc Penman’s Gazette, handsomely illustrated with fae-similes of improvement in penmanship, and por traits of penmen, giving full particulars, sent free to all who write for it. auglO lamfim EXTRAORDINARY INDUCEMENTS—FAIR WEtK- Under the Management of Mr. J. T. Ford, of Baltimore. ON MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER, 21, 1878. THE BRILLIANT SINGING COMEDIENNE, BLANCHE CHAPMAN-FORD. THE POPULAR COMEDIAN, Mi*. Greo Denham- AND A SUPERB COMEDY COMPANY, with ihe spe cial attraction of Thirty Maryland Madrigal Boys! Tun Phenomenal Singers op thkik Aos ! All of whom will appear iu a most attractive entertain ment, embracing Two Musical 3?lays I WITH SEVERAL NOVEL FEATURES. Prices SI 00 and 50 cents. Reserved seats at Phillips A Crew’s without extra charge,