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UJJHY SOUTH ■ ALMOST A FATAL STEP; —OK— The Heirs of the Mil lionaire. CHAPTER III. hal’s first visit to tanglewood villa. Hal Halstead pauses as the view breaks upon him. The massive gateway, the graceful trees, the lordly mansion, the statue-grouped fountain. What a stately, oriental picture they make. •These people were certainly rich before, or hAve received some other legacy,’ mentally cal culates Hal. What a pity Theodcre Earle could not have have heard it and enjoyed another congratula tory self-delusion. ‘I sent them word I wos coming. I hope no thing happened to the message. But 1 see no signs of anyone stirring,’ continued Hal, with a little thrill of trepidation. ‘I wonder, I do so wonder what Evangeline Earle is like.’ But he marched in boldly, and passed into the pillared vestibule. The servant was evidently all readiness to re ceive him. The brightly varnished dooi swung open the moment his hand touched the bell, and with all due solemnity he was ushered through the long hall, which gave such a defi nite, although at the same time scarcely recog nizable impression of extreme newness. The servant pushed open a door, and Hal was in a long room, very rich and grand-looking at thefiist glance. A tall gentleman, clothed in broadcloth with the very finest gloss, and a ‘portly lady in an equtlly shiny black satin, with scintillating earrings and breastpin ablaze with supposed diamonds, advanced to meet him. •My dear Mr. Halstead, I make you welcome to Tangle wood Villa,’ said the gentleman with a flourish of the white hand on which shone a ring of such mammoth proportions that, had it been pure gold and genuine diamond instead ot was-lied, filling and paste, might have cost a snug little fortune of itself. Hal Halstead bowed with a becoming ssnse of the importance of the occasion, and ventured a slight remark concerning his pleasure at making the acquaintance of the high and mighty pro prietor of Tanglewood Viila. •Dont speak of it, my dear sir, don’t mention it. True greatness is never puffed up, but al ways benignant and condescending. This, my dear Mr. Haltsead, is Mrs. Seraphina Earle.’ ‘A pompous old fellow!' inwardly commented Hal, while he turned with a gracious bow toward the braad figure from which shone the lustre of the satin and sparkled thesplendor of California diamonds. Mrs. Seraphina’s eyes were dropped languid ly. She crossed her fat little tejeweled hands across the imitation lace of her berthe, swept him a graceful little courtesy and lisped in a soft languid voice: •I am so happy to meet you, so happy. It is quite affecting, and so romantic. Dear Mr. Hal stead, 1 knew we shall all adore you. You will be such a l right star in our luminous circle. Oh, it is so delightful1 As Hal shook her hand he was ungallant enough io repeat mentally; ‘Wnat a downright simpleton !' His high expectations being slightly drshed, he glanced apprehensively around the room. He had seen Mr. Earle the pompous, and Mrs. Earle the sentimental; what would he find in Miss Evangeline Earle if That was a question to come hcrae rather more closely- It was some thing of a relief to discover a little postpone ment of the answer. •Ah, you are looking for our dear Evangeline. Sweet, unconscious child ! We allow her to fol low her own innocent desires. Yon shall see her presently,’ lisped Mrs. Earle, shaking her head just enough to set the earrings a-twinkle. ‘Seraphina, my love, considering that it is Mr. Halstead I think you might be gracious enough to take him youiself to Miss Evangeline. No donbt Mr. Halstead will appreciate it. He will see that it is more honor conferred to be con ducted into the presence of bis betrothed by Mrs. Earle herself than to be escorted by a hum ble menial.’ As he spoke thus, Mr. Earle drew op his tall figure to its stateliest height, and locking down upon the young man with the benignant, pat ronizing condescendsion of an emperor. Hal bit his lip to conceal a smile cf amuse ment, although vexation was last getting upper most in his mind. * •Oh, yes,’ tinkled Mrs. Seraphina’s gently- modulated voice. ‘I will go with him. He shall see the d&rliDg in her uiconecions grace. I know very well where to find her. Come, im patient lover, come and look upon your lovely mistress.’ She laid the plump fingers, with all their rain bow sparkle of pseudo gems, on Hal’s arm, and nodded archly toward the door,her fat little face looking so alsurd with that sentimental ettempt at playfulness, that biting his lips would not serve Hal in the least, and he was fain to draw out his handkerchief and cough vigorously in a suspiciously spasmodic fashion, But he followed her in silence, while Mrs. Seraphina tripped as lightly as so substantial a body would admit, across the hall and through a rear door into a sort of shaded court yard, with tasseVed paveu ent, made not of marble or stone, but with wood covered with a sort of cement which Mr. Earle pronounced to have quite the effect of marble. Putting her plump finger upon her lip, Mrs. Seraphina stole on, and presently made a pause and turning to him with a little sigh of triumph pointed out to him a very charming tableau. For there, reclining earelesiiy on a gay shawl thrown down on the pavement, with the fine background of the noble old trees, the stately pillared vestibule, and the really exceeding graceful as well as elaborate fountain, was a slen der, girl sb figure, clothed in simple white mus lin with a bow of pink ribbon at the neck, and -a blossom or two in the shining black curls of hair. Such a relief it was to the glare and glit ter and fussiness of Mrs. Seraphina, that, cool, airhole white drees, that quiet, unpretending figure. AimCst unconsciously, Hal Halstead drew a long breath of relief. A garland of neglected flowers was lying be side her, but her eyes were bent downward. She was entirely absorbed by tie book lying open beside h6r> •Evaiigelino, dearest/ called Mrs. Seraphina when she had given the young gentleman plen ty of time for admiring the pretty tableau. Slowlv the ringleted head was lifted, and the dark lustrious eyes darted past the pretty fig ure of Madame Seraphina and seemed to devour the face of Hal Halstead. .... She rose slowly and languidly and came to meet them. •This is Mr. Henry Ha’slead, my love. Mr. TTalstead, M ss EvaDgeline Earle.’ U Hal bent over ibe lovely band with unfeigned gallantry; his eyelids downcast, his heart all a ^The calm, dark eyes of Evangeline Earle, on contrary, slowly s,arched over bis face and t ?n a pretty accurate idea of bis character. Mrs Serapbina, with a little silvery tinkle of , “Se? trotted away out of sight. a1 .?om so pleased to meet you,’ said Hal, in a little?mba«as=mentstill, as he g’anced at the. slender figure and calm, beantiful face beside him. •Is that mere conventionalism ? Do yon know I have thought sometimes that it must be heart ily vexatious to you that such a person as Evan geline Earle exists? Otherwise, yen were so untrammelled, so free to waader where you list and win the fairest possible bride.’ |Could I find a fairer? Might not such quest bring me back to this spot ?’ returned Hal, with a rather gallant bow. 'But how is it with you ? If the chain frets on one side, it may chafe on the otter.’ ‘It is different with a woman,’ answered the girl, gravely. 'Ste cannot roam away, she re pairs to be sought out, and her’s is oftenest an ideal one. Besides, I have been kept in S3clu- sion for your coming.’ She said this without the slighesc look of em barrassment, not a wave of color on the clear cheek, not a quiver of the dark fringed eyelash. It was Hal who blushed. An awkward silence ensued, which was broken by her silvery, even accents. ■Bat I am keeping you here. Will you go in yonder, or come with me to my favorite bower ?’ •Whichever yon like.’ •Then it will be the bower, by all means. It is something to escape the silly chattering and the bombastic absurdities you must fortify yourself against when in the drawing room of Tanglewcod Dell.’ Hal lifted his eyebrows in astonishment. •What a very transparent face yon have,’ sail Evangeline in amusement. 'Did you think I should try to gloss them over, t.s they have done their surroundings ? Thank you, no sir, not at all. I shall try to be honest as I can. They are relatives of mine, I know;bnt does it follow that I must endorse their vagaries? On the contrary, I protest against them with all my might, but for all the good it does I may as weli be silent.’ And Evangeline shrugged her graceful shoul ders. Come, and I will show you my arbor. It is one of my protests, by the way. Uncle Theo dore wanted it a Chinese pagoda with gilded bells to tinkle in the breeze, or as a slight con cession to my depraved taste, a Greek temple. But I stoutly resisted and had my way. I made the gardener twist some stont osiers and I staid by while he set them up. See what a darling little rustic spot it is, the one bit of genuine na ture in the place.’ She glided into a little rustic bower hnng with a fragrant canopy of training leaves, and a great cloud cf blossoming rcses.pale pink, deep crim son and snowy white, and sank down upon the pretty seat made from a gnarled tree trunk, and motioned him to follow her example. ‘Well,’ said she, presently, ‘you are just what I expected to find you. You are very good and very wise, ^ am snr ®\ „ You are entirely different from my anticipa tions,’ retu rne d with an arch smile, but still unable to 8**11 the little flatter of excitement, as he sat watch* p C graceful creature, who sat toying with the roSfS and looked calmly and composedly into h* 8 ^ aee w*** 1 her soft dark eyes, while she talked on in an original, spirited, pi quant style q3t» novel to the young man, who had known .familiarly but two women, his straightforward, earnest mother and the impnl- warm-beared, utterly unsophisticated "young lady w h° 8at before him, betray ing in a dozen ways constantly her high-bred notions, her Parisian education, her wonderful self command, was quite another sort of person. Simple-minded, pure-hearted Henry Halstead, had kept closely to hi 8 studies while in the uni versity. and since tad been quietly erjoying himself at home without once caring for plung ing ffifb sehiiety. So a uViuMRu woman, Rkcvhiff Evangeline Earle,flashed upon his startled sight like a star, and was just as much a mystery to him. But a very enchanting one, it mast be admitted. •I wondered what you expected to find me, a vapid, sentimental doll.or a stiff, awkward piece of pomposity ? One or the other, I’ll be bound,’ she said, laughing a little, soft, gurgling mur mur, quite as unlike ordinary langhter as was every thing else about her peculiar and original. Tt was i a*her a matter of negation. I had no positive impressions. I did not expect to find yon as graoous and free spoken, nor so well bred, nor so —pardon me—*o very beautiful, and above all, so unlike everybody else.’ Hal made this little speech rather hurriedly, and at its close the color rushed to his honest fare in waves of crimson. Evangelide Earle sat there looking as fair and cool and calm as a lily, and quite as lovely. With her fair head a-droop, her clear, dark eyes just lifted attentively to bis face, and those pret ty dimpled Augers plucking idly at the crimson rose'spray. She listened smilingly, and ans wered readily: •l r on have strung me a pretty ebain of compli ments, but the last is the best of all, I am glad you do not think me commonplace. I conld not endure to seem to you just like everybody else.’ There was a pretty, delicate flattery, more in the soft glance of the lustrous dark eye, than in the words themselves. Hal was a man, and had his inheritance of masculine conceit. This sparkling draught held to his lips tasted of nectar, and his eyes spark led with satisfaction and delight. ‘I find you irresistible and charming,’ said he, impulsively. ‘I consider myself a wonderfully fortunate fellow.’ And reaching forward to pluck a spray of the roses his hand touched hers, and a thrill ran through every nerve. •Take some of the white ones, too,’ said she. Stay, let me make you a tiny boquet of them, my first gift to you. I will try and spare yon any thorns.’ And adroitly twining two branches together ehe fastened them to his breast .and looked up when it was done with thet ineflibly sweet be wildering smile into his face. Hai kept the lit tie hand prisoner and talked some sort of dreamy nonsense. Ho could not remember afterward a single word of it. He only knew that he seemed to be revelling in a L ind of blissfnl intoxication, and that presently she said: by •I am very glad that you are not distressed j this condition of Mr. Allen’s will. I fancied that it might be you had met and loved tome- one else. 1 am sure that wg shall be very com fortable and happy, and the home we shall build and the establishment we shall keep up will not belike this of my Uncle Theodore’s, will it? And now you must call me Evangeline, and not Mif s Earle, and may I venture to call you Harry ?’ •Gall me anything you like, sweetest Evangel ine, but it will take me some little time to re cognize that name. It’s rather odd that no one e ver called me Harry. I’m Halstead with all the University, or 'Hal Hal,’ es the wild ones nick named me, and at heme I am Hal to my mother and Nannie.’ •Then yon shall be my Harry. I like it, too, that no one else will intrude npon my privileges. But realy, I suppose we ought to go to the bouse, ttough I am extremely thankful our first meet ing was not in that drawing-room.’ ‘You shall have one of your own presently, dearest Evangeline, and your own exquisite taste shall famish it.’ Her eyes sparkled as she ventured: Then you shall see what a drawing-room ought to be. Couts qui conte. It shall be recherche. It shall do credit to my Parisian teachings. The beau monde shall bebold and envy. ’ •Mrs. Earle is comiDg,’ said Hal in a discon certed voice. ‘Well, she has been remarkably patient, Let us go out and meet her. unless you care to hear a flowery dissertation npon the romantic piotnre we make. I believe we shall make a rather good- looking couple.’ She smiled gaily, as she glanced from his manly form and handsome face back to her own slender, graceful figure, then led the way from the arbor. Hal Halstead returned to his home believing himself the most fortuflate individual in the universe. His heart was as gay as his step was light and buoyant. His mother rose from her easy chair, laid away her book and looked anxiously into his face, as he came boarding into her cosy sitting- room. ‘You are satisfied,’ she Faid, with a sigh of re lief after her first, glance. ‘More than satisfied dear mother,’ replied Hal, kissing her fondly in the exnberanceof his spir its. ‘She is perfectly charming.’ ‘And seem3 as good as lovely ?’ questioned the cautious mother. ‘Oh, yes, that was the most subtle charm, aside from her bewildering beauty. She is so candid and frank. So perfectly hont.it as wel’ as well- bred,’ That, Master Hal, was your fi, si mistake about Evangelic Earle, but not the latt by any means. ‘And yon are happy mj son. It is 3uch a relief. I have secretly dread this interview, j feared to see von come home disgusted, or dis appointed, with this young lady to whom yon have beer, so strangely betrothed. I cannot tell yon how thankful I .am.’ •Neither can I express my own satisfaction. I think she is the one of all others who would have attracted me, even had there bean no lie of this 3ort. She i3 a wend-rail yonng lady, mother. So wise so finely educated, so well- bred. She will be the star of whatever circle she enters.’ ‘And the Earles are agreeable people, too, I suppose.’ ‘Oh they are so odd ! Sncb queer people, so absurd. I was ready to choke with* laughter. And Evangeline sees all their folly. She was the first to allude to it. She spoke so contempt uously of their weakness !’ ‘Spoke contemptuously of those who have been her foster-parents, at the first meeting, too —ob, Hal ’ exclaimed his mother in an indignant ton e. Hal flushed crimson, •Yon won’t wonder when yon see them. Evan geline’s tastes are so pure and ’x.finod it is not strange she despises their vulgar tinsel show. She was such a contrast to Mrs. Earle in her fussy ssriu and glaring diamonds. Her dress was so unstudied and simple, that pure white with only flowers and a ribbon.’ Mistake number two, Hal Halsfc-ad. Evange line Earle stood half an hour debating between piDk silk and white muslin, and selected the litter, murmuring: ‘The pink silk is a darling, but simplicity will have the most effect considering the contrast, with such a character as they d escribe his to be. I will play tho role of unsoph'stccatad inno cence. First impressions ere everything.’ ‘I see very plainly that yon have come home a lover,’ said Hal’s mother, sailing fondly. ‘And surely I would not seek to disenchant you if I couid. What are you doing with those flowers ?’ •Putting them in water.’ ■Bui that is Eau de Cologne. You are really far gone, Hal. Give them to me.’ Hal covered his confusion by asking: ‘Where is Nannie? I haven t seen her since I came into the house.’ A faint shade crossed Mrs. Halstead’s face as she replied, pointing to the litti^room leading from-*! - roc-ca- littijyroom lea< lounge. She is ‘She is lying down on the lounge. She is not very well. Ic-day, I must call in Dr. Seward, for her strength and spirits have been failing for some time.’ ‘Poor little Nannie. I mist go and oomfort her.’ And Hal accordingly walked softly across to the lounge where Nannie lay within hearing of all their conversation. It wes a curly head which rested on the cush ion of the lounge, but not heavy, glossy black coi’s like the ringlets of Evangeline Earle. There were little short rings of golden brown clustering around a broad, white forehead, and and it wa3 a pair of wide violet blue eyes, which looked over to him through the silk brown eyelash. A very sweet face it was too—gentle, and guileless as a baby. The cheeks were pale now; the lips compressed to keep back the sob which was choking the delicate throat. The eyes could net iwar his gf ze a moment., but fell quickly to hide the gathering nvst. It was quite another character from that of Evangeline Earle. Iu the presence of the latter, he was mastered, his will instinctively as to a superior. With Nannie he was protector, mentor, lord, and it was she who yielded ten der and ready allegiance. A vague consciousness of this fact, was iu Hal’s thoughts as he stopped and kir sed that pure, blue veined forehead. ‘I’m so sorry, Nannie darling, that you're not well. You’ve been shut np in the house so long I shall take you off for a drive in the morning, and see if the fresh breeze wont coax back the roses here.’ And he patted h<t white cheek. She put away his hand, repressing a little im patient bitterness. ‘Don’t Hal, my head aches.’ ‘I’ll briDg the cologne that has had the touch of rose stems fresh from the hands of an houri. It will be sure to have a charm.’ The poor wistful lips quivered. The slender hands were spread over her face. ‘Ob, Hal, I wish you would go away. I am worn out. I can’t bear any talking. ‘You poor, littlle dear ! You shail have Dr. Seward at once. I am going for him now’ Nannie could not answer—the tears oozing through the parted fingers. She turned her face around as far as possible to the sofa back, and kept silence. Stupid Hal walked out to his mother. ‘I think you are right mother, Nannie must have the doctor. I’m going for him, now. I never knew her in such a strange way.’ Mrs. Halstead sighed, seffly bat like a true woman, covered as well as she couid, the poor child’s secret. •She lus studied too closely on her music, She's had an absurd idea of going away from rs to teach music and earn her own bread. Foolish darling! I tell her a daughter could not be nearer my heart, and that I cannot give her up. 'Her nerves have felt the strain and given way. A little medicine will restore her strength.’ ‘Then the sooner she hrs it the better. We can’t do without our siDgiDg bird. I’ve been loDging to introduce Evangeline here, but I want Nannie to be bright and happy when she comes.’ Poor Nannie heard and choked down a sob, The flood of tears was noiseless, and she did not firce them back. There was a direful weight upon that inDC- cent loving heart; a woful misery throbbing and beating at the tortured brain, and a little bodily weakness had ended all power of controling her self. Nannie lay there pale and mate, with slow tears stealing one after another down her cheeks until Hal bad left the room. Then she tottered to her feet, and crossed the sitting-room with wavering steps. •Let me help yon, my child,’said Mis. Hal- stead, inatendfr voice, and rising she threw her arm around the frail little form, and sup ported her upstairs to her chamber. SHAKSPERE STUDY. The Merchant of Venice, BT W. H. P. . The Merchant of Venice consists of two sto ries ingeniously interwoven: the story of the Bond and the story of the Caskeis. Antonio, a a rich merchant of Venice, so the story of tli« Bond goes, had ill his wealth invested in ‘ven tures’ at sea. His friend and kinsman, Bassanio. asked to borrow 3000 ducats to aid him in pros ecuting bis suit to a rich hems. Antonio bor rowed the money to lend to his friend from a Jewish usurer, Shylock. The bond stipulated that, in case Antonio did not repay the bor- niCE'oy m-three ua on First;* mighl cut a pound of fair, Christian flesh from his debtor s body- A ntonio failed to refund the money within the appointed time, and was im prisoned by Shylock and brought to trial. How he was rescued, is told in the story of the caskels. Portia, a rich heiress, the same that Bassanic was making suit to, had three caskets, one oi gold, one of silver and cne of lead. One of them contained her picture. Now the direction of her father’s will is that she should marry the suitor that chose the CEsket containing her portrait, and none other. Bassanio happened to chocse it, and forthwith he aDd the heireis were mar ried. Bat just sfier the ceremony, the new? came of Antonio’s imprisonment for the debt that he had incurred for Bassanio’s sake. The brilliant and learned Fortia, went at once tc Venioe, the place cf the trial, and disgnised as a lawyer, she managed to get the case put en tirely into her hands. She so turned the law as not only to free Antonio but also to have Shy lock forfeit half his wealth to a Christian youth that had eloped with his daughter. The scene of the story of the bond is laid at VeDice;of the story of the caskets, at Belmont. Portia’s residence. These two stories are sc thoroughly inlerwoven that through much o the play one scene is given to one story, ana th< next to the other, and so on. Both these storiff are very old and both had occurred in sever* shapes before Shakspere used them. Both an told in the old Gesta liomanorum; as, in fact, almost every old midaceval romance is. The ole English poet Gower tells one version of the casket story; and it occurs else in Boccaeeios: Decameron; An old English ballad tells tb< bond-story as the ‘emeitie of Germ etas a Jew ’ The whole ballad is quoted in Clark ai d Wrights preface to the play. Let us keep in mind the center characters < f the play: Shylock, Portia and Antonio. Aron; d these are grouped all the others - Thu3 abom Shylock and Jessica and Lorenzo, Tubal am Launcelot; about Antonio, the group of Veuo tious, Salanio, Salarine and Grationo. Bassaoii the triend and kinsman cf Antonio and the suc cessful suitor of Portia is the link that concoct: the two stories. The trio of friends of Antonie and of Basranio, Salanio, Salarino and Gratiano aioDg indeed with Launcelot and Tabco, m»k< the fun of the comedy. In point of fact, Gra- tiono is the fool of the play: but a casual reading may net reveal it. For his character is one o : the most finely drawn of all. These, then, are the three centers: Portia ((he story of the cask ets), Shylock and Antonio (the story of the bond.) The Merchant of Venice is one of the un doubted plaj s of the great master. The critics detect the work of no other hand in it. And ii has always been one of the most popular o! Shakspere's productions, keeping always its hold on the stage as weil as upon the attention of readers. Shylock has always been one of the favorite roles of the great actors; and now win Booth’s Shylock almost equals his Hamlei in power of his wonderful impersonation, ftoi have the editors and orit:'c3 ever tired of editing and diccussiiig and praising this semi-tragic comedy. It wasamong the fiist issues of the Clarendon Pret s series and also of Mr. Rolle’s. Neither has it escaped much dull sermonizing. But happily it is beyond the power of ail the critics and editors to desecrate it with their pon derous learning. The ev* r increising legion o‘ them cannot dissect it until it become offensive, nor condem it with their volumes of notes to commonplace. So long as men delight in high art, Shylock, the inexorable dog, Antonio, the faithful friend and the brilliant and splendidly versatile Portia will remain living existences. The ‘lyric boy-atod-girl love’ of Lorenzo and Jes sica is as immortal as their moonlight and as tender as their music. This great piece of art was born of genius auel it is beyond the power of learned dulness to bury it. The sermonizing editors may preach great truths from it, if they ■I will go to bed, dear Mrs. Halstead, if you please,’said Nannie, trjing to hide her white, suffering face from the pitiful eyes. •Perhaps it is better. Let me unfasten your dress. I will bring you a cup of tea, and keep everybody away, so you can sleep if possible. I can see how your head is throbbing by the veins.’ ‘Oh. it throbs so,’ cried out Nannie, glad for something to explain her tear-stained cheeks. ‘I cannot keep back the tears.’ ‘Poor darling ! Try and keep up good cour age, it will not last long; such keen pain never does. Yon’ll be better presently.’ ‘Perhaps I shall not—perhaps I shall die ! Oh, that I conld !’ burst forth hysterically. ‘Nannie, Nannie,’ exclaimaced Mrs. Halstead in Ja reproachful voice. ‘Ton forget yourself. You are speaking sinfully. Are you willing to give my heart so cruel a wound? Never was a daughter more closely entwined in a mother’s heart than you in mine. Would you rob me of the joy and oomfort of yonr presence ?’ ‘Forgive me, my best friend,’ sobbed Nannie.^ ‘I think I am half-crszed. But ob, you don’c" know—yon cannot understand.’ ‘You are mistaken, my precious child,’ said Mrs. Halstead, folding the trembling form close ly in her arms.’ I do understand it all. My heart has bled for you—has even rebelled angrily against my boy for fin<’i tg tb-s girl so charming. But my poor wounded lamb, sharp as is the trial, it has been borne safely, and con quered by many a woman before von. Try to look at it calmly and unselfishly. There is no help for it. Hal wonld be bound in honor—and you know very weli that such a claim would never be put aside by him—to marry this girl. It is very hard for you, very sad for me who love you both so dearly. But let ns try to b? generous, and forgetting our own pain, rejoice that he can go to the altar with a glad heart Yon and I will be all in all to each other, until time shall have healed the wound, then, mayhap, I shall have to study all this advice on my ovn account, finding it such a sore trial to give you away to another.’ ‘No,’ whispered Nannie, ‘I shall never leave you.’ But her sols had ceased. The sharply drawn brenth was growing soft and regular—the arms clung closely still—bnt it was quite evident tli« worst paroxysm was over. Presently the girl slid away to the pillow, and lying there, smiled faintly as she said: ‘I am ashamed of my folly and ingratitude— my more than mother ! Yon shall have no far ther grief on my account. The weakness is past* It is right that I should live only for you who have been the most tender friend, the most generous benefactress.’ Mrs. Halstead kissed her teuderlv. 'Heaven will bless yonr heroic efforts my dar ling. We will both meet the trial bravely, and give him up unselfishly.’ (To be continued.) choose; but, high above all didactic dulness, it stands ‘a thing of beauty,’ and ‘a joy forever.’— The bibliography of Shakspere is indeed a gi gantic bibliography, and may be numbered by thousands of vo.umes. Toe list given here are the most necessary, and it is made with es pecial reference to the study (first) of the Mer chant of Venice, edited by Clark and Wright. (Macmillan and Co. 75 cts.) or, Ralfe’s Meicbant of Venice ('Harpers-90 cts.) Shakspere Primer, by Edward Dowden (D. Applet *n and Co. 45 cts ) Tales from Shakspere by Chas. and Mary Lamb (Harpers 3 vols. 25 cts. per vol- and also in Tanchnit editor of Brit ish authors 00 cts. Abbots Shakesperian Gram mar (Macmillan $2 ) Mary Cowden Clarke’s Concordance ($9) and Schmidts S iakspere Lexicon (Very costly $15 or SIS) are necessary for very thorough and wide study. In the way of cri i :isms, Hudsen’a S'wfcepere and Edward Djwden’s large work, ‘Stmkspere, a study of his Mind and Art,’ are among tho best. But criticisms ought always to come last in order of study. Furness's new variorum editions are com pie! e Sha tsperian en- cylopoedias. Romeo and Jnlut, Hamlet and Macbtth are the O' ly plays of his series that ere yet published. Fleay’s Staksperian Manual is useful chiefly to the critical student of tb« chro nology of the plats Then there are the ten thousand critics. But all these cannot come in the reading of throe score years and ten. Jamas Rtssell Lowell’s ‘Shakespere once more’ in ‘among my Books’ series, is one of the bfst es says in our lilera'ure. THE NEW YORK SUN FOR 1879. The Sun will lie printed every day (luring the year to come. Its purpose and method will be the same a« in the past: To present all the news in a readable shape, and to tell the truth though the heavens fall. The Sun lias be n, is, and will continue to be inde pen lent of evtrybody and everything save the Truth i.ud its own convictions of duty. That is the -only policy which an honest newspaper need have. That is the pol icy which has won for this uewspaper the confidence and friendthip of a wider constituency than was ever enjoyed by any other American journal. The Sun is the newspaper of the people. It is not fr r the rich man against the poor man. or for the poor man against the rich man, bnt it seeks to do equal justice to all interests iu the community, it is not the organ of any person, class, sect, or party. There need be no mystery about its lovesand hates. It is for the nonest man agaiut - the rogues every time. It is for the honest Democrat as against the dishonest Republican, and for the honest R-publican as against the dishonest Democrat. It does not take its cue from the utterances of any po itieian or political organization. It gives its support unreservedly when men or measures are iu agreement with the Con stitution and with the principles upon which this repub lic was founded for the people. Whenever the Constitu tion and constitutional principles are violated—as in the outrageous conspiracy of 1876. by which a mau not elect ed was placed in the President's office, where he still re mains—it speaks out for the right. That is The Scn’s idea of independence. In this respect there will be no change in Us programme, for 1879. The Sun has fairly earned the hearty hatred of rascals, frauds and humbugs of all sorts and sizes. It hopes to deserve that hatred not less in tho year 1879 than iu 1878, 1S77, or any year gone by. The Sun is printed for the men and women of to-day. whose concern is chiefly with the affairs of io day. It has both the disposition and the ability to afford its readers the promptest, fullest, and most accurate intelligence < f whatever in the wide world is worth attention. To tl is end the resources belonging to weil-established prosperity will be liberally employed. Tbe present disjointed condition of parties in this country, and the nnc-, rtainty#>f the future, lend extraor dinary significance to the events of the coming year. To present with accuracy and clearness the exact situation in each of its varying phases, and to expound according to its well known methods, the principles that should guide ns through the labyrinth, will be an important part of The Sun’s work for 1879. We have the means of making The Sun, as a political, a literary, and a general newspaper, more eutertaining and mote useful than ever before ; and wo moan to apply them freely. Our rates of subscri[ tion remain unchanged. For the Daily Sun, a four-page sheet of twenty-eight columns, the price by mail, post-paid, is 53 cents a month, or Sti.30 a jear: or, including the Sunday paper, an eight- page sheet of fifty-six columns, the price is 65 cents a mouth, or gr7..V'>'a yeUr. post paid. The Sunday edition of The Sun is also furnished sepa rately at SI .10 cents a year, post-psid. The Sunday Sun, in addition to the current news, presents a most entertaining and instructive body of literary and miscel laneous matter. in bulk twice as great and in value not inferior to that of the best monthly magazine of the day, at one-tenth of their cost. The Weekly sun is especially adapted for thos°who do not take a New YorK daily paper. The rewsofthc week is fttdy presented, its market reports are CprnisUed to the latest moment, and its agricultural department, edited with great care and ability, is unsurpassed. The Weekly Sun is probably read to-day by more farmers than any other paper published. A choice story, with other carefully prepared miscellany, appears in esch is- sne. The Weekly protects its readers by barring its ad vertising columns against frauds and humbugs, and furn ishes more good matter for less money than can be ob tained from any other sourc’. Tne price of the Weekly sun. eight pages, fifty-six col umns, is £1 a year, postage paid. For Clubs of ten sending SIO wc will send an extra copv free. Address T .V- t-w T I-VTTA 185—1 mo. I. W. ENGLAND, Publisher of The Sun, New York City. K II IFaJIav’sI TheliabitofusingMV-rrihine D, Jl. llUiHllJ SjGttim Opium, Laudanum, nr Painless’ jKlixir of Opium ( ured paln- AMRRICAN jlessly by this Improveu i.iu- P I U M ' Cure or ANTIDOTE. Manufactured at Atlanta, [Ga.. at reduced prices. Guar- [anteed. Particulars Free.— Address R. M. Woolley, Atlanta, Ga., Office No. 33U Whitehall street. Headquarters for Supplies. Theo. Shuttles ; wholesale dealer in suppliesfor Auctioneers, Can vassing Agents, Street Men, Gift Enterprises, Ped dlers, and dealers generally. Catalogue mailed free. 209 N. Fourth St., ST. LOUIS.MO. THE MODEL PRESS 5 is the simplest, easiest running, fastest and most perfect prets ever • invented, and guaranteed to be '■ Thoroughly Reliable __ Autw m*nm-m Any smart boy can manage it, and ^ ~ 4 do hundreds of dollars worth of work a year. It saves ^^businessmen all their printing bills. Pi esses as low mm as $3. For business printing, $10 to $35. Rotary >a \i&fnot power, $100 to $160. Over 6,000 now in use, q »£r and a Prize Medal awarded at the Paris Exposition, mm ", The I.eadinjt Press of the World. “• +mj A handsomely illustrated 124 page book, entitled mm MOW TO PRIXT and copy of the PRINTER'S GUIDE, -S i. with full particulars, mailed for 10 cents. Address’m* " J. W. DAUGHADAY & CO., Inventors and Man’frs. & ry, i Ho. 723 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. r EE SUBSCRIBERS still continne to carry on the busi ness of ENGRAVING ON WOOD in all Us branches. Their facilities are such that they are enabled to exeente all orders promptly and in every style of the art, upon tbe most reasonable terms . ii All kinds of book illustrations, views of buildings, ma chinery, landscapes, portraits, societies' seals, druggistf labls, newspaper heads, billheads, etc., etc., drawn and en graved in themost approved manner N. 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