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THE SUNNY SOUTH, ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 15, 1887
For the Sunny SonTH.
AN AMERIGA1 PENMAN.
A Great Detective Story.
FROM THE DIARY OF INSPECTOR BYRNES.
BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
[Copyrighted 1887. All rights reserved.]
CHAPTER XT.
Count Fedovsky, considerably to his own
anxiety, found himself established in his career
of a man of fashion and distinction in New
York. Nothing, indeed, could be easier and
smoother than this career outwardly appeared
to be; and Tom, at all events, was entirely con
tent with it. The only Mrious item of expense
that he bad to incur was his hotel bill, which
he made a point of settling every week But
he only slept at his rooms; the remainder of
hiB time was spent abroad as the guest of his
numerous hospitable friends. All the princi
pal clubs tendered him invitations, so that he
was continually free of some of them; in short,
there appeared to be a conspiracy ou ail sides
to bring all New York and its resources of en
tertainment before him in review, without any
thing being asked from bim in return except
an amiable appreciation of the spectacle. Ev
erybody contended for the privilege of defray
ing his expenses; and he might have borrowed
thousands of dollars without any other effect
than that of making the gentlemen who lent to
him feel flattered by his kindness in constitut
ing them his banker. Fedovsky was only hu
man, and his vanity was perhaps somewhat in
flated by all this popularity and courting; but
in his sober moments he reminded himself
that the character of bis reception was based
upon the theory that he could, were he so
minded, buy up the wealthiest of his enter
tainers, and that if his real circumstances were
known a radical alteration might be looked for
in the demeanor of all concerned.
Perhaps he would have broken away from it
all but for two considerations. The first was
his expectation (not a very sanguine one) that
Mr. Vanderblick senior would find bim a situ
ation in his bank; and the other, that Sallie
Vanderblick had made a decided impression
on his heart. It was not easy to see how any
wood could come of that, either; but, where
the emotions and affections are concerned, a
very small possibility will be magnified a great
many diameters. Probably the count avoided
speculating as to the final result of the affair;
he felt an earnest pleasure in the girl's society,
and confined his thoughts to the passing mo
ment. , . ,
One day while the count and a party o. gen
tlemen—Colonel Jack Oakley, Judge barren,
Wellesley Brooks and one or two more—were
sitting over their cigars at the club the colonel
suggested that they should spend the night in
going through the slums, shady neighborhoods
and gilded dens of the city. This is an amuse
ment not uncommon among gentlemen who
are at a loss for something definite to .do, and
affords them the pleasure of imagining that
they are doing something toward exploring the
secret recesses of human nature; although, as
a matter of fact, there is just as much human
nature to be seen (if one will only look for il)
in the box at the opera, or in the boudoir of
the reigning belle of the season, or at a cham-
pague supper of politicians at Chamberlain s
as in the lowest dive or gaudiest gin mill in
the metropolis. .
The colonel’s proposition was viewed with
favor by the companv, Wellesley Brooks re
marking that the count’s American education
would not be complete while he had seen noth
ing oi the night side of New York. I edovsky
had no special liking for the adventure, hut
neither did he care to combat the wiil of the
majority. Judge Farren remarked that it
would do no harm, and might prove of great
convenience to take a detective from the cen
tral office along with them. He would not only
bo of use in case of any trouble, but, what was
even mere to the purpose, be would be able to
tell them where to go and how to got there.
“I can manage about that,” said the colonel.
"I know the Chief of Detectives here—Inspect
or Bvrues. Pllgo round and interview him
on tie subject. He’ll understand what we
want and know whom to send us.”
“Off with you, then,” said Brooks. “You
haven’t more thau time before dinner, and you
may as well take the count with you. The in
spector is a good man for him to know.”
Fedovsky was thinking that, if he went on
at his present pace, it was conceivable that he
might meet the inspector otherwise than by
Colonel Oakley’s introduction; but he recov
ered himself promptly, and announced himself
ready to follow the colonel on his reconnoiter-
ing expedition. Accordingly, the two gentle
men sent fora hack, and, on its arrival, were
driven to the well-known edifice in Mulberry
street.
Passing through the swinging doors in the
front of the building, which were guarded by
a watchful but judicious officer in uniform,
they entered a door on the left, and .found
themselves in an outer office. From this they
made their way by another door to a passage
which conducted to an empty waiting room,
out of which a further passage brought them
to a second official apartment, with a long
desk or counter built across the opposite side
of it. Behind the desk was a personage with
keen eyes and gray hair, to whom Oakley in
trusted his card and that of the count, with
the request that they be conveyed to the in
spector.
The cards were sent in, and in a few mo
ments a sargent appeared and courteously in-
foraiod the visitors that the inspector would
sen them. Following this guide, they were
led through two or three small rooms, comfort
ably ‘‘arpetod and furnished, and then.the offi
cers kuoeked at a final door, and a voice from
within said “Come in!” They obeyed, and
were the next moment in the presence of the
chief detective.
Fedovsky, who had occasionally seen high
. finals of the police abroad, was struck first
of all by the youthful ajipearauce of the in
spector and his cheerful and straight-forward
t xpression. There was about him nothing
shadowy or mysterious, nothing of the conven-
tional detective. II© was a man in the full
vigor of his life, strong, healthy and free from
care, with a ready and genial smile and quiet
and courteous manners. He possessed, it is
true, a pair of extraordinarily bright eyes,
which gave Fedovsky the impression that they
saw a great deal mere than they ostensibly
looked'at; but there was nothing peering or
surreptitious in their regard; they were frank
and good humored, and always in harmony
with the general expression of the counte
nance Such as he was, at all events, Fedov
sky at once conceived a particular interest in
the chief detective and liking for him, and re
turned the strong grasp of his hand with a
hearty pressure. The inspector, for his part,
seeing i no less well disposed toward the young
Russian, and the two were immediately on a
jriendiy footing with each other.
The Colonel now entered upon the subject of
his visit, to wh'ch the inspector listened polite-
lv and then said with a smile that he thought
he eouid furnish them with a satisfactory es-
cort. Ten minutes talk arranged the matter,
and then the two gentlemen took their leave;
but Fedovsky had reason to thank his stars
afterward that he had happened to accompany
the Colonel on this brief expedition.
After dining with the others at the club, the
whole party adjourned to the corridor of a ho
tel in Union square, where they were joined by
the detective sergeant, whom the inspector had
detailed to guide them. Ho was an athletic
mau of medium build, very quiet, simple and
unaffected, with a countenance and attire da-
voii of auy marked leatures. The features
were such as to slip easily from recollection;
bu - the compact forehead, rather narrow, hut
prominent, might indicate to those versed in
phrenology that Mr. Fergus possessed a mem
ory from which no impiesaion was ever erased.
Fedovsky being the guest and stranger of the
partv, Fergus attached himself more especially
to him, and the count kept him busy answer
ing his questions regarding the manner in
which the New York detective service was con
ducted. Fergus was fuliy competent to explain
the general featnres of the business; and then,
at the count’s request, he went ou to impart
such information as professional etiquette per
mitted concerning the leading crimes and crim
inals of the last few years. Fedovsky was in
terested.
"Bat I don’t understand,” he said, “how—
in the case of a crime having been committed
anl no traces left—you know whom to suspest.
Say that my house is entered and I am robbed,
and only find it out the next morning, what
would be your first step toward identifying the
criminals?”
“Well, we go by common sense mostly,” the
detective replied- “I’ve read Eome books
about the wty they do it in France, but that
I isn’t our style. We work the thing out much
| the same as if it was a sum in arithmetic. In
the first place, yon see, crimes are generally
done by criminals.”
“That I am willing to admit,” said F’edov-
sky, smiling.
“By professionals, that’s to say, crimes
against property—robbery, burglary, forgery,
pocket-picking, sneak-thieving and such like.
With murder it’s different. Murder is often
done by people that aren’t professionals.”
“There is no profession of murder? It is a
comfort to know that.”
“Yes, sir; and for that reason the job is so
often muddled and found out. Not always, by
a good deal, but more often than not. They
lose their heads one way or another, and give
themselves away. But a professional thief is
another thing. The cleverest of them are pret
ty clever. They lay their plans a long while
beforehand—years before, sometimes — and
they don’t strike till everything’s as they want
it. And half their plans are about getting
away after the thing is done, and covering their
tracks.”
“Don’t they ever betray one another?”
“The saying is,” replied the detective, “that
there’s honor among thieves, but cur experi
ence doesn’t say the same thing. They will
give one another away if they can save their
own skins by it. But the leaders—the tip-toe
men—don’t let themselves in for that risk.
They keep in the background and direct opera
tions, but they never show themselves. Even
the men that work for them don’t know who
they are. Instructions are transmitted through
third parties, but nobody asks or answers any
inconvenient questions. They understand that
least said is soonest mended. If one of the
small men is arrested, he tells nothing about
the big man, because he knows nothing. It’s
a recognized arrangement, and it’s to their ad
vantage in the long run.”
“But how, then, do you know the big ones
themselves?”
“Well, it isn’t difficult to know them, in one
way. We may know that such and such a
man is a thief; but it doesn’t follow that we
can bring home any particular crime to him.
We are always on the lookout for him, though,
and sooner or later we get on to most of them.
They must communicate with somebody, and
one bit of evidence leads to another. Once we
suspect a man, he is put under surveillance
from then out, he seldom can keep long out of
sight. We keep a record of whom he associ
ates with, where he lives, what journeys he
makes, what money he spends, and so on.
Then if any big crime is reported, we first de
termine whether it was possible or likely that
one of these fellows had a hand in it, and then
we put a doable watch on him to see if he
shows auy signs of having benefited by the af
fair. But,” concluded Mr. Fergus, “there are
many more ways of following them up than I
could tell you, sir.”
“What is the most difficult class of criminals
to watch?” inquired the count.
“ Well, I don’t know but the first-class forgers
are as difficult as any,” returned the detective.
“They generally have the most brains, and
they don’t need to expose themselves. We
sometimes have to wait a long time before we
can capture them. Theie is a man hereabouts
now, he continued, after a pause, “who is like
ly to do more mischief in that line than any
body we have dealt with yet, if he isn’t step
ped in time. He has been ai rested more than
once, but nothing could ever be proved against
him. He is a gentleman in manner and edu
cation, and has brains enough to run the Uni
ted States Treasury; but a more thorough ras
cal don’t live. He never stops long in one
place; and he’s been over to Europe several
times, traveling quietly and living well, like a
retired man of business, who wants to amuse
himself in an elegant way.”
“What is hi* name 1 )” asked the count. ‘
The detective shrugged his shoulders. “He
has more than one,” he said, “but it isn’t my
business to mention any of them. If he should
ever be caught tripping, everybody will know
what he calls himself; but until thea, the less
it is repeated the better the chance of catch
ing him will be.”
At this juncture, the party happened to be
passing down Broadway, in the vicinity of
Fourth street. The detective pointed to a
house on the comer of the latter thorough
fare.
“Speaking of that fellow,” he remarked,
“there is the first house that he did any ‘crook
ed’ business in. He was associated there with
a man by the name of Sollmon. They kept it
as a gambling house.”
“Really!” exclaimed Fedovsky, with so man
ifest an accent of surprise, that the detective
noticed it. “I think I have heard of that
house before.”
“I was not aware that you had been in
this country previously,” Mr. Fergus said.
“Nor have I, but I am acquainted with some
one who has, and who had an experience in
that very house.” He turned to Tom, whom
he had taken to accompany him on the expe
dition, and asked him whether he remembered
the building in question.
“That I do, sir,” replied the individual ap
pealed to, readily. “I was in there some
years ago, and lost about all I had on me.
You recollect my speaking of it to you, sir?”
“And he was under the impression,” con
tinued the count, again addressing the detect
ive, “that he recognized one of the keepers of
the place in a gentleman I met abroad, at Mon
te Carlo, who passed under the name of,George
Willis. Is that your man?”
“I dont know,” was the non committal
reply. “What sort of a looking man was
he?”
Fedovsky described him. The detective
stroked his chin, and asked whether he was
traveling alone. Alterwards he took occasion
to offer a friendly remark to Tom Bullard,
which led to some conversation between
them.
“Let’s see; haven’t you got a brothel?”
Fergus inquired.
Tom replied that he had, but he didn’t know
whether he was living still. He had not
seen or heard of him for many years.
“Well, folks lose sight of each other,” the
detective remaiked, “but they sometimes turn
up again. And then again they die when you
least expect it. There’s no calculating on it
one way or the other.”
The party had now arrived in the midst of
the region where their explorations were to be
gin; but it will be unnecessary to follow their
movements iu detail. The scenes and per
sons which they were called up an to contem
plate were not of an especially edifying char
acter, nor did any exciting incidents take
place. Now and then the detective would in
dicate a man or woman among the shifting
crowd of human beings who passed and re
passed round about them, and say that he or
she was such and such a criminal of greater or
less notoriety; or at times he would remark
that the building they were in was the scene
of some crime that had stirred the metropolis
a while before, or was noted as a meeting
place of the theiving fraternity. But, upon
the whole, Fedovsky and his friends were not
deeply impressed or stimulated by what they
saw. As for Fedovsky, he had felt a livelier
interest when in the presence of the historic
scenes of wickedness and violence in Eu-
ops—the bloodstain on the floor of Queen
Mary’s chamber, the prison room of
Raleigh in the Tower of Louaoa, the guil
lotine oi the French Revolution or the
battlefield of Waterloo. His imagination failed
to respond at the instance of these more ob
scure and vulgar villainies and villaips. As a
matter of fact he was bored, and the same
might be said of the others. They had over
estimated the resources of their new amuse
ment. What was to be done? They could
scarcely ask the personages at whom they were
called upon to stare, to authenticate their rep
utation by committing a robbery or murder in
their presence; that would involve their becom
ing more commonplace witnesses in a police
eourt next morning. At length Wellesley
Brooks proposed that Mr. Fergus conduct them
to some gambling house, where they might en
tertain themselves by “bucking against the
tiger.” The officer said, in answer to Fedov-
skv’s inquiry, that he had an important matter
to'atteed to, and after bidding the party good
morning, withdrew.
The door of a gambling house was shortly
after reached, notwithstanding the absence of
their guide, and, after seme one spoke with
the doorkeeper, the party was admitted. A j
tolerbly large gathering "Was present, and the
game was proceeding industriously,y i
After a moment, Tom noticed » medium
sized chap, with pal art ace and dark whiskers,
standing at one of the gambling tables. There
was something about his appearance that
aroused his curiosity, and he began to make
his way toward him. Meanwhile, Mr. Welles
ley Brooks, who had been searching his pock
ets, nttered an exclamation of dismay.
“What’s up, Wellesley?” inquired the colo
nel, who was standing near him.
“I’ve lost my pocketbook, confound it!” ex
claimed Brooks. “It was in my hip-pocket,
too!”
“Yon may have left it at that table in the
dance hall,” suggested the colonel. “You had
it out there, didn’t yon?”
“I haven’t touched it since we started,” the
other replied. “Some rascal has stolen it.”
“And he has left bis mark,” added the colo
nel, indicating a neat slit in the side of his
pocket, through which the parse had evidently
been abstracted. “I think I know where yon
probably lost it, Mr. Brooks; it was shortly
after we left the detective, and he may be able
to recover it for yon. Had you a large sum of
money in it?”
“A good deal larger than I care to lose in
that way,” Mr. Brooks replied. “There was
over six hundred dollars. If he gets it back,
I’ll ”
“You’ll give him credit for knowing his bus
iness—that’s all. I’m to blame for not keep
ing a sharper lookout. You will hear from
him by Saturday evening, if not sooner.”
“There’s no such hurry as that,” replied Mr.
Brooks, offering his cigar case to the colonel.
“I shall be equally obliged at any time. Mean
while, 1 fancy I can reimburse myself for to
night without going home.” He turned to Fe
dovsky, who happened to be standing next to
him, and said, “You can let me have six hun
dred for the evening, can’t yon, count?”
Now, Fedovsky always made it a rule to
carry all his money about him, in order to be
prepared for any unlooked-for emergency that
might occur, but it by no means entered into
his intentions to spend it otherwise than with
the most carefol economy. To him it was, of
course, not quite the same as to spend it, and
Brooks was, no doubt, fully able and willing
to settle a debt of a hundred times the amount
named. But Brooks might imagine that a man
of millions, such as he supposed Fedovsky to
be, would think as little of $600 as of six cents,
and might forget to pay him on time or even to
pay him at all. On the other hand, should he
decline to lend Brooks the money, Brooks
would be sure to think it very strange as well
as disobliging, and it might lead to unpleasant
suspicions and inquiries. He had bat a mo
ment to weigh the matter, and the result of
his weighing was that ha handed Brooks the
sum he asked for. Brooks carelessly nodded
his acknowledgments and turned to the gam
ing table, where some of the others of the
party were already busy. How little did he
imagine that Fedovsky had barely $1,400 left
in the world.
“Come on, countl” cried Colonel Jack Oak
ley, shaking him by the sleeve. “You must
take a hand with the boys for the good cf the
house! I’ve lost fifty, and I want to see you
win it back again. Yon millionaires are always
lucky. Come on!”
For the first time in his life, despite his ex
periences at Monte Carlo, Fedovsky felt the true
gambler’s instinct. If he had lack he might in
a few minntes win money enough to live in
comfort for a year or two to come. He had
had lack when he did not care for it; why
might he not have it now when he needed it?
With this impulse he moved up to the table
and began to play. The game happened to be
one with which he was fully familiar.
He won, and won, and won again. True, he
lost; but, persuaded that it was but a tempor
ary reverse, be went on playing. His losses
continued until, in alarm, be was about to
stop; but at that juncture he had another suc
cess. He made a venture large enough to re
store all bis losses if he won. He lost again,
and left the table with a laugh, and leaving a
thousand dollars of his fourteen hundred be
hind him.
The other gentlemen laughed also, and ral
lied him jocosely on his ill luck. He answered
them iu the same tone, but with consternation
at his heart. Four hundred dollars! And he
owed several bills—one or two of them quite
large ones. What was to be done? Should he
ask Brooks for that $600? It could at best
only postpone the evil day, and it might
hasten it. Should he borrow a thousand or
two of some friend? They would gladly lend
bim all he asked for; but how could he repay
them? No—not that.
And it was Tom’s money that he had thrown
away; not his own.
Just then Tom came up to Mm. -H*-had
been during the last fifteen minutes engaged in
conversation with a pale-faced, dark-whiskered
man in a retired corner, and and had not no
ticed Fedovsky’s calamity.
“Here’s an odd thing has happened to me,
sir,” he said in an undertone. “I've found
my only brother in a thieves’ den, and he’s
one of the thieves!”
CHAPTER XH.
Count Fedovsky had never before realized
what it is to be ruined. His experience at
Monte Carlo bad come upon bim so suddenly
and unexpectedly that it had affected him
more as a fiction than a fact, especially as Tom
had been able to fill the breach with his timely
winnings. This was a different matter. He
bad had ample time, during the last few months
to reflect upon the meaning of poverty, and
now that it was come be understood it in all its
bearings. And not poverty only but disgrace
awaited him. His friends, when the trutn was
known, would regard him as no better than a
swindler. He had not technically cheated
them of their money, hut he had associated
with them under false pretenses, and they
could truthfully say that they would not have
entertained him as they had done if they had
known that he was penniless. To complete
his discomfiture he learned on the morning af
ter the visit to the slums that Weliesley
Brooks had been called to Chicago on imporjj
tant business, and might not return till the
autumn. He had evidently forgotten all about
that little loan.
Tom insisted upon treating the loss of the
money as a thing of no very serious impor
tance. He reminded the count that he still
had his social position and reputation, which
were his best capital, and that it would be easy
to take that advantage of them now which
hitherto he had delayed to avail himself of.
He could strike for the best thing in sight, and
when he had gained possession of it no one
could ask him any questions. A little shrowd
management would overcome all difficulties.
Fedovsky was willing to admit that this might
be true; but he was convinced in his own heart
that the sort of shrewd management required
was precisely the sort that ho had no turn for.
Tom was more preoccupied concerning the
discovery of his brother than about the disap
pearance of their funds. He had not seen
“Charley” for nearly twenty years; he had
long ago given him up as dead; and now he
rose above the surface sound in wind and
limb, hut, evidently, with a very shady past
behind. Precisely how shady it was, or what
the particular shadows were, Torn had not been
able to learn; but that it would not stand scru
tiny, Charley had maue no attempt to deny.
He told Tom, however, that he was anxious to
reform; and upon hearing that his brother was
in the service of a Russian millionaire, he had
expressed the hope that the nobleman in ques
tion might feel disposed to lend him a helping
hand. The new disaster to their fortunes, of
course, put that out of the question; but Tom
nevertheless seemed to have an idea that Char
ley might in some way be made a party to their
adventures, and that they ail would be better
for the addition. Fedovsky thought .quite
otherwise; hut he announced no opinion upon
the matter at present, beiug too much absorb
ed with the immediate features ot his situa
tion.
His first act was to pay all his outstanding
bills, which, as is usually the case, turned out
to be rather more numerous and of somewhat
greater amount than he had calculated; inso
much that when he had footed the last one he
found himself with just $84 surp us. Ha in
tended to vacate his rooms at the hotel the
next day, and was about to send for his ac
count when Tom protested so vigorously that
he was obliged to listen to his argument, which
was to the effect that the personal property
contained in his trunks was worth a hundred
times the sum of his indebtedness to the ho
tel, and might be left in the baggage room
there as earnest of payment; meanwhile he
might take in a valise whatever valuables were
most readily convertible into oaah, together
with a change ef clothes and linen and even
ing dress. He might leave the hotel as if about
to return in a day or two, and then write word
that unforeseen circumstances were detaining
him, and that in the interval his rooms might
be disposed of. In this manner he coaid
save his .$84, retain a few personal necesaaries
and have his baggage conveniently stored.
The hotel would have its security and be eon-
ten'.
While Fedovsky was hesitating over this
scheme, a note was brought to him by a mes
senger boy, bearing on the envelope the stamp
of Vanderblick’s bank. It contained a request
to come to dinner that evening at the Yander
blick’s house. There were to be no other
gt&ste; Mr. Vanderblick wished to taik to
Count Fedovsky about a little matter of busi
ness.”
That’s your straight tip, sir, at last,” Tom
exclaimed, when the count communicated the
contents of the note to him. “He’s going to
offer yon a big salary, and all the chances yon
want. Let the hotel bill lay over till you’ve
had your talk with him, and then I’ll lay odds
it’ll never tronble you again.”
[to be continued.]
The Bride of the Antilles.
MRS. MARY K. BAILY.
[continued fbom east week ]
“Same feelings are to mortals given.
With less of earth In them than Haaven;
And If there be a human tear
From pasalont dross rained and dear,
a tear so limped and so meek.
It would not stain an ansal’s cheek,
’vis that which pious father’s shad
Upon a duteous daughter’s head!”
Summer, with all its glorious charms and
brilliant beauty, has passed away, and Au
tumn, with its golden fruits, has brought rich
harvests to the husbandman, and now, cold,
grey November is upon us. The London sea
son has commenced, the opera and receptions
are the rage. Percy Mansion, the London
residence of the family is the scene of many a
brilliant entertainment. Among the many
friends of Helen, is the family of Sir John
Devreanx, his estates are likewise in England
and Ireland. A knight, and a barouet, Ms in
fluence is great, and, although vested with
Mgb authority, he is the friend of the poor
and hnmble. In early life he married a for
eign lady of high rank and considerable fort
une. She was the real personification of a
Spanish beauty. He brought her to his Brit
ish home; after a few years she fell into a rapid
decline and died, leaving Sir John with the
care of his three cMldren, two daughters and a
son.
Attired in a pearl colored satin, with an ele
gant overdress of Brussels lace, jewels spark
ling from her snowy throat and elegantly
rounded arms, a magnificent tiera of diamonds
ademing her dark braids of hair. Such is
Marian Deveraux on the opening of Terrace
View Villa. Lily, her fair young sister, has
just returned from the conservatory and placed
a vase of fresh flowers in her father’s reading-
room. Sir John enters, and, folding his dar
ling in Ms arms, exclaims:
“My Lily, my sunsMne, how thoughtful,
how considerate yon are, to think of me to
night, amidst all this joy and gayety.”
“Father, I will not mingle with the gay
throng, I will sit here in your study and read
for you.”
Lily, that would not do at all, besides Ma
rian needs you to assist her in entertaining
the guests.”
“Lily, Lily, come here, we are waiting for
you.”
“Here, Marian, take your truant little sis
ter, and I will wager something very hand
some, the Lily will be the fairest flower in
that vast bouquet of beauty.”
“Father, you will ruin Lily, she is vain
enough now.” Marian gathered the folds of
her mantle more closely around her, and right
regal did she look.
The magnificent grounds of Terrace View
Villa are brilliantly illuminated, thousands of
lanterns cast their soft light around. The old
palace has surpassed itself in magnificence.
The spacious corridors are hung with paint
ings, tapestry, and works of art from every
country under the sun. Banners that have
floated in the sunlight of many climes; armor,
whose burnished beauty has been dimmed by
a hundred battles, and swords, and various
other war-like weapons are seen on all sides.
Here in one panel is the coat of arms of the
illustrions line of ancestors from which the
family are descended.
The merry dance goes on, the song of mirth
is heard, and still Marian is unconscious of all
the surroundings. The flattering decever,
the Duke Vincent, entrances her. Could she
only see the deceit that lurks behind his false
smile and blandishments. But no, she heeds
not the voice of friends or relatives, but takes
her own choice.
Sir John Devreaux tried every meaDS in Ms
power to induce Marian to marry Dr. Vernon,
a man worthy of her heart and hand. De
scended from an ancient and noble family, he
inherited immense estates. Vernon Castie,
i) ' ii ii i ii rii rirrul in^a delight
ful country some few miles from London.
Every luxury that art and refinement could
suggest was there.
A magnificent library spreads its choice vol
umes before you, a conservatory of choice
flowers adorned his immense grounds, and
blooded cattle grazed on his beautiful green
meadows. Add to this, a man himself of sci
ence and accomplishments, he was good
enough to claim the hand of Marian Devreaux.
Marian Devreaux is attired in rose colored
satin, with lace trimmings, the luxuriant raven
■braids encircle a brow of wondrous beauty;
and oli, such eyes, they fascinate, and yet they
command.
Our little sunlight, Lilly, is calling “sister,”
behold her, attired in a simple white muslin,
her golden hair falling in ringlets over her
shoulders, not a gem adorns her, only a little
rosebud nestles on her bosom.
After several hours enjoyment, all the guests
took an affectionate farewell of the Devreaux
family. Marian received marked attention
from several notables, but the sarcasm
of her nature would break forth, and
cause many an admirer to retrace his foot steps.
Paul Vincent bid an affectionate farewell to
Marfan and lingered long in earnest conversa
tion with her, but was somewhat disconcerted
by the appearance of Dr. Verflon.
“Marian, when you are at leisure,” said Dr.
Vernon, “I wiil see you. This may be our
last interview.”
“I am ready now, Dr. Vernon, and will see
you.”
“Marian, I suppose the issue of to-night will
decide my destiny, and yours, for life. You
know long since the estimation in which I
hold you, if I did not esteem you, I would not
urge my suit.”
“It is useless, Dr. Vernon, for you to pro
ceed farther, my hand is pledged to another,
he is my choice; besides, I am going to another
country—you will soon forget me; some other
smiles wiil beguile you, and the name of Mari
an Deveaux will live in your memory as some
vision of the past. I wish you much happi
ness, Dr. Vernon, and will always esteem you,
as my true, and valued friend.”
Dr. Vernon, arose and taking Marian’s hand
in his own, said:
“Good-bye, Marian. I hope you will have
happy future, if the wishes of a friend could
render it so, you have mine—in the many
years to come, when sorrow, and care, may
dim your sunny sky, take this little book,
“The Sure Wav,” and when reading it, think
of the^friend who gave it, and if you need con
solation in any misfortune, come to me, as to
yonr father.”
Marian was deeply moved, his language
seemed to impress her, with a dread sorne-
tMng, she knew not what; the rich color faded
from her cheeks, and her heart seemed to throb
with unusual emotion.
“Sea View Villa,” Sir John Deveaux’s future
home, is of Gothic architecture, which togeth
er with its grey stone, and ivy trimmings gives
it quite an imposing appearance. It is situated
on an eminence overlooking the Atlantic
ocean. In summer the view is magnificently
beautiful; the broad Atlantic sweeping before
it, in all its grandeur, and majesty—numerous
little boats gliding up and down; away in the
distance are hundreds of acres of well cultiva
ted laud, beautiful meadows, with cattle graz
ing, and lovely flower plots adorned with na
ture’s richest dies; to the right looms a light
house, whose solid masonry has resisted the
eternal dashing of the sad sea waves for centu
ries.
A few weeks after their arrival at Sea View
Villa, a letter arrived for Marian, bearing a
mourning stamp. Paul Vincent was killed by
one of his own friends, a member of his own
club; shot in a personal difficulty. Poor Ma-
nan’fl eT!Af lrnow no Vinnnrlo alack »1
“The sultry summer day is done
The Western hills have hid the sun,
But mountain peak and village spire
Retain reflection of his fire.”
The morning sun was gleaming and tinging
with rosy hue, the stained glass windows,
frescoed ceiling, and golden tapestry of Hel
en Percy’s cozy little room.* Alter breakfast
she ordered the carriage and drove till dinner;
on her arrival home she found a letter await
ing her, bearing the Roman stamp. She broke
the seal and read thus:
Rome, January 3rd, 18 .
My Dear Helen:—According to promise I
write to you from the “Eternal City.” I have
traveled much since I saw you, have beheid
many fair and lovely scenes, but Rome sur
passes all,
“I stood to Venice on the Bridge ol S ghs;
A palace and a prison on eacb band;
I saw from out lb* waveber structures rise
A* from the stroke of the enchanters wand;
A thousand year* tbelr cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times, when many a subject land
Looked to the winged Lion’s marble piles.
When Venice sat in stats, throned on her hun
dred isles.”
Helen, I cannot describe my feelings, as I
stood for the first time beneath the wondrous
dome of St. Peter’s. Surely thought I, how
West I have been, to share the beauty and sub
limity of such a religion. Need I say that my
heart reverted back to you? I wish you were
here to admire with ms; surely the genius that
conceived this will live forever in the minds of
men. The Christmas festivities were carried
out on a magnificent scale; the services from
midnight till day-break were exceedingly bean-
til ul.
“The tapers were lit on ibe Altar,
With garlands of lilies between;
And tbs steps leading np to tbe statue
Flashed bright with the roses red sbeen;
The sunbeams caae down from tbe Heavens
Like Angel*, to hallow tbe scene,
And tbsy seemed to kneel down with the shadows
That crept to tbe shrine of the Queen.”
There are many foreigners here. I have
purchased several beautiful paintings for you;
one in particular, is lovely beyond description,
the Madonna, by Raphael. Present my best
wishes to your venerable father. We have
such glorious nights here, no wonder this sun
ny laud produced so many splendid artists.
‘The moon is up and yet it is not night.”
This is the time to view the Coliseum in all
its gorgeous beauty. You are familiar with
its histsry. Your father has wandered through
tMs ruin many times. The bunch of faded
flowers I send you, were gathered from your
mothers grave. Mry God bless you my cher
ished one.. Once mors, good-bye.
Yours, with respect and devotion,
Victor St. Leon.
Helen and her lather enjoyed this descript-
iveiettsr very much, as they were familiar with
many of the scenes which it described.
“Helen, my dear, said her father, St. Leon
has a noble head and heart; it takes no ordi
nary nature to be impressed with nature’s
beauties.”
“Yes father, be has truly a noble mind. I
think success will attend bim through life. He
has associated with that terrible class of men,
so dangerous, and se facinating, and yet they
have not corrupted his morals in the least.
You know Paul Vincent, the suitor of Marian
Devreaux, he doas not believe iu a God.”
“You are right, child, they are dangerous,
and should ou all occasions be avoided.”
“Sir John Devreaux has tried every means
in the world to tom Marian against Vincent,
but it avails net. Bis fas i rating manners and
blandishments, have won her, and she is de
termined to marry no one but him ”
“I suppose he will be at the reception to
morrow evening. It is later than I thought.
We must retire in order to be refreshed.
Good night.”
The spacious halls of Devreaux mansion are
festooned with garlands of evergreens and the
perfume and beauty of foreign plants add a
charm to the scene. A soft and mellow light
is reflected from globes of blue, and amber and
garn6t. The rishly fnraished parlors seem
more magnificent than usual, and the host and
accomplished daughters are anxious to render
tMs, their last reception, a grand affair.
rian’s grief knew no bounds, she seemed al
most heart-broken; but time, and kind friends
can soothe the keenest sorrow.
It was towards the close of a sultry July
day; the heavens were obscured by murky,
dark clouds, the lightning flashed, and peal
on peal of thunder seemed to shake the very
earth; the waves dashed madly against the
shore, a fierce tempest was raging on the
ocean, and the sea moaned and groaned like a
tyrant in his wrath. The occupants of Sea
View Villa had a view of the terrible storm,
as the Villa overlooked the ocean.
“O, Lilly,” said Marian, “what a terrible
storm; do you think we are secure here?”
At that moment it seemed as if the very
foundation stones were torn asunder; the ele
ments held supreme sway.
Lilly walked to the east wihdow, and ex
claimed :
“O, sister, seel a large ship struggling with
the waves. See, it is almost turned on its
side. O, Marian, there is a woman on deck
with a baby in her arms, and there is a man
waving a green flag. Oh! how terrible if those
poor men are washed overboard; see, they are
throwing them ropes from the land.”
“Lilly, they will surely be lost. I only wish
we could assist them.”
“O, listen! that terrible crash; the ship is
gotag down, the woman and the baby are
gone; poor little innocent, somebody’s darling
is sleeping bpneatiplhe wa^es,” * ,
In a few hours the storm somewhat subsid
ed, and crowds of people went to the beach.
A muimur of horror ran through the multi-
tude. A man is seen struggling with the
wave*; he is thrown against the rocks with
such violence that every oae thinks him dead;
men went to his aid, and brought him on shore
in an unconscious condition. His appearance
was refined and elegant—a gentleman in every
respect. Towards the second day he revived,
and recognized persons around him.
Marian and Lilly endeavored to ascertain
who the stranger was, but no one seemed to
know. They prepared a nice basket of delica
cies, and called on the stranger. As they en
tered the room, both sisters looked at each
other astonished. Before them, reclining on a
couch, is Dr. Vernon.
“Ah! my friends, how glad I am to meet you.
God has spared me from a watery grave, and
how can I ev«r thank Him? It was a terrible
storm. I believe our vessel was a merchant
ship, bound for India from England. I saw
the Captain’s wife and child washed over
board.”
“Dr. Vernon, we wiil send the carriage for
you to-morrow, and you will be our guest until
you depart.”
Dr. Vernon lingered at Sea View Villa
through the summer, and when he departed he
took Marian with him as his bride. Thus did
fate fashion it that these two should link their
destinies after so long a separation.
The Percy mansion preseuts a brilliant scene
to-night; the heir of the family, the pet of the
house, is marrying the noble Frenchman,
Victor St. Leon. Once more the grand old
mansion resouuds with the song of mirth.
Again the massive silver plate that has almost
been buried for a century, adds its glimmer
and beauty to the palatial dining-hali. A hun
dred gas juts oast their brilliancy over fair wo
men and brave men; officers in gay and gor
geous uniforms, ladies of rank and station, and
notables from every nation are there. Helen
is robed in purs, white satin, a veil of priceless
lace envelopes her beautiful form; natural
flowers are in her hair, and a spray nestles on
her bosom, held in place by a diamond cross.
St. Leon is more handsome than usual; tall,
erect and graoeful, a magnificent specimen of
man. The ceremony is performed at the
“Forest Sanctuary.” Four weeks after her
marriage Helen departed for a continental
tour, to he absent several months.
Sir Clarence Percy failed in health rapidly
after the departure of his daughter. All the
joy and sun-light seemed to have left Hastings
Castle. A hasty summons brought Helen and
St. Leon home in time to receive his last bles
sing. He passed calmly and peacefully away,
as the setting sun on a beautiful summer even
ing.
Helen grieved many yea’s for the death of
her venerable father. The love of a devoted
husband and the innocent caresses of a beauti
ful child could scarcely soothe her anguish.
Little Helen, as we shall call her, is the ex
act counterpart of her mother. We behold her
now at the age of seventeen an accomplished
woman. She graduated in France at the Con
vent of the Sacred Heart, and has acquired ail
the grace, accomplishments and polish of the
French capital. She sings and plays divinely,
and the greatest charm of all, the gift of a joy
ous happy nature.
Often in the evening twilight a female form
is seen bowed in prayer in the Forest Sanctu
ary. The siDgle lamp suspended from the
ceiling, casts out through its ruby globe a soft
light which touches tenderly and sadiy the
crown of thorns upon the sacred head of the
crucified Savior. Some wild flowers were on
the altar, like pure angeL, guarding the Holy
of Holies in the tabernacle. The form we see
kneeling there is merely a child just verging
into womanhood. It is Helen St. Leon. In
her hand she holds the jeweled rosary, the
treasured gift of her mother. As she numbers
her beads, the jeweia glitter aDd glimmer, pure
and bright, as the prayers of that suppliant
child ascend to Heaven.
What devotion, what purity of character
from one so young; what comfort to the
mother who possesses such a daughter, and
doubly so to the father who possesses 3uch a
cMld.
Little Helen spent the greater portion of her
life in tke southern part of France. She seems
te suffer very much from the eold damp win
ters of England. The physicians order an
ocean voyage and a change to a warmer climate.
St. Leon thonght ef a glorious land beyond
the Atlantic, the beautiful Western world,
where many from the old world feund health
and fortune. Visions of orange groves, bright
flowers amd eternal sunshine dawned upon
Mm.
"We grow that moon* shall wane.
And Summer birds from far shall erf ss the sea;
But who shall tell us when to look lor death?”
Towards the beginning of September, Victor
St. Leon and family arrived at their new home
in Florida. It possesses every adornment of
art and nature. Millions of flowers cast their
fragrance on the air; acres of magnolias, like
white robed angels, keep watch through the
silent hours of the night. Nowhere is nature
so lavish in her charms as in this sunny land.
The hospitality of the St. Leon family is fa
mous; refined and cultivated as they are, their
mansion is the center of gay and polished as ■
semblagea. Helen is admired by every one,
she is knows as the golden haired beauty of
the St. John’s.
Belle View Mansion, the princely home of
Victor St. Leon, is brilliant to-night with
beauty and cMvalry. All the wealth and
beauty of the neighboring cities are there, also a
few Spanish officers from Cuba. The scene is
gorgeous within; officers in gay uniforms, and
ladies in splendid costumes. Helen is admir
ed as usual; she is dancing with a handsome
Spanish officer, whose dreamy, dark eyes be
tray the passion that is swaying his soul. It
is the old, old story, he is madly in love with
Helen St. Leon.
“My gentle lady,” said DeCastro. “I have
wealth and position to offer you. I have a
princely name, but more than all, I offer you
the pure and unselfish love of a devoted heart.”
“I appreciate your generosity, Monsieur De-
Castro, and would willingly become your wife.
I will not deceive you; "consumption is the
deadly foe of our family; I being in delicate
health, the physicians had some fears, aad
ordered me to this Southern latitude, as a
means of prolonging my life.”
“H you become my wife, I will take you to
Cuba. We will live in one of my enchanted
Islands, where the summer never ends, where
the skies are always blue, the flowers forever
bloom, the old become young, and the sick are
restored to health.”
“Monsieur, with my father’s approval, I
will unite my destiny with yours.”
St. Lson thought no sacrifice too great for
the happiness of his child; he gave her to the
noble Spaniard as his bride, and ere the roses
bloomed again she left for Cuba.
Her home in Cuba is an abode of bliss, the
climate, the surroundings, and the love of a
devoted husband, ail combine to render her a
happy woman. But alas! this fragile flower is
drooping away; the hectic flush has mantled
the pale cheek; the ejes flash with unnatural
brightness; and the voice, once so silvery and
sweet, becomes weak and husky; Monsieur
DeCastro sees his beautiful flower is fading
away.
One morning in May, ere the dew drops
drops kissed the roses, or the golden sunlight
touched the distant castles of “Moro” and
“La Cabina,” ste calmly passed away iu the
Queen City of the green Isle of the Antilles.
The sighing of the sad sea waves of the beau
tiful blue Southern sea, lift their voices in
sweet symphonies, and sing an eternal requi
em above the grave of the silent sleeper. They
placed the precious casket in a magnificent
Mansoleum *f pure white marble, with the
simple iuscription, l ‘Reguiescat In Pace.”
[the end.]
Love’s Secret.
[Journal of Education }
i.
What’s the witeiitng charm about her
That makes life seem dull without her ?
Who can tell?
. purely .othevnalds arp fairer..
O-her malcshave beauty rarer,
Talk as well.
ii.
her?
Still for me her conversation
Has Ihe strangest latcinailon,
And her face
Day and night forever haunts me;
While her figure slight enchants me
With Its grace.
What’s the reason I adore her,
Heed her whims, bow down before h6i?
(Little witch!)
Serve her in and out of season ?—
You could never guess the reason,—
She is rich?
The treatment of many tho'isanda of cases
of those chronic weaknesses and distressing
ailments peculiar to females, at the Invalids’
Hotel and Surgical Institute, Buffalo, N. Y.,
has afforded a vast experience in nicely adapt
ing and thoroughly testing remedies for tho
cure of woman’s peculiar maladies.
Dr. Fierce’s Favorite Prescription
is the outgrowth, or result, of this great and
valuable experience. Thousands or testimo
nials, received from patients and from physi
cians who hqve tested it in the moro aggra
vated and obstinate cases which had baffled
their skill, prove it to be the most wonderful
remedy ever devised for the relief and cure of
suffering women. It is not recommended as a
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woman’s peculiar ailments.
As a powerful, invigorating tonic,
it imparts strength to the whole system,
and to the womb and its appendages in
particular. For overworked, "worn-out,”
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as an appetizing cordial and restorative tonic.
As a soothing and strengthening
nervine, "Favorite Prescription” is une-
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haustion, prostration, hysteria, spasms and
other distressing, nervous symptoms com
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sleep and relieves mental anxiety and de
spondency.
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription
is a legitimate medicine, carefully
compounded by an experienced and skillful
physician, and adapted to woman’s delicate
organization. It is’ purely vegetable in its
composition and perfectly harmless in its
effects in any condition or the system. For
morning sickness, or nausea, from whatever
cause arising, weak stomach, indigestion, dys
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“Favorite Prescription” is a post-
tive cure for the most complicated and ob
stinate cases of leucorrhea, excessive ilowing,
painful menstruation, unnatural suppressions,
prolapsus, or falling of the womb, weak back,
‘‘female weakness,” anteversion, retroversion,
bearing-down sensations, chronic congestion,
inflammation and ulceration of the womb, in
flammation, pain and tenderness iu ovaries,
accompanied with “internal heat.”
As a regulator and promoter of func
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from girlhood to womanhood, “Favorite Pre
scription ” is a perfectly safe remedial agent,
and can produce only good results. It is
equally efficacious and valuable in its effects
when taken for those disorders and derange
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period, known as “ The Change of Life.”
“Favorite Prescription,” when taken
in connection with the use of Dr. Pierce’s
Golden Medical Discovery, and small laxative
doses of Dr. Pierce’s Purgative Pellets (Little
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diseases. Their combined use also removes
blood taints, and abolishes cancerous and
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“Favorite Prescription” is the only
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a positive guarantee, from the manu
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Fargo bottles (100 doses) $1.00, or six
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For large, illustrated Treatise on Diseases oi
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cents in stamps. Address,
World’s Dispensary Medical Association,
663 Main St, BUFFALO, N. Y.
A Set Not to be Broken,
A man in Texas was arrested for running
away with three sisters—triplets—and was
placed on trial.
“You are a nice feiiow,” said the Judge as a
preliminary.
“I know it, Jedge; leastwise that’s what the
gals said.”
“What do you mean by running away with
three women, and ruining the peace of a happy
family?”
“I meant to marry ’em, Jedge.”
“Insatiate monstei! Would not one suffice?”
‘!Put it a litte plainer, J.dge.”
“Wouldn’t one have been enough?,’
“It mout look that ’ere way to you Jedge,
and did to me at fust, but you see there was
three of ’em, kind of one set, like.”
“That doesn’t count in law.”
“Mebbe it don’t, Jedge, but them gals and
me talked it all over, and they was mighty
attached to each other, and said it was a pity
for me to take one of them triplets and break
the set, so we just concluded to hang together,
and l’il be darned if we wasn’t, hanging right
out for Utah, and no mistake.”
“Tbe law does not recognize any such ex
cuses.”
“All right, old man, jest go ahead. There
was three agiu one, and if I have to suffer I kin
stand it; but I want to say right here, Jedge, if
any foci cuss breaks that sot while I’m suffer
in’, I’ll break his darned skuii as sure as I’m
a dyin’ siuner, and you can bet a rawhide on
it.”
Choosing a Husband.
[Rhoda Dendron in Judge.]
Long bave I waited, and long nave 1 sigbed.
Longing at isngtb to be somebody’s bride;
Many bave wooed me, out no one has won,
And faster, still faster, tbe fleet years run.
Ne’er can I manage to make up mv mind;
Lore cannot fled me, for love is so blind.
Time aimost dally new suitors wiil bring;
Choosing a husband’s a delicate tbing.
Soon will be oyer lie’s season of spring;
Sadly I sing—sadly I sing—
Chooslug a husband’s a delicate thing.
How my brain aches In its .flirts to choose!
How my lips burn, they so often rsfusef
How my strange heart by its tension is torn.
Longing for love In Its loneness forlorn t
Three new proposers are waiting my word,
Three more are coming to-day, I have heard;
Which on my floger shall fasten th6 ring?
Choosing a husband’s a delicate thing!
Soon will be over life’s season of spring ;
Sadly I sing—sadly I sing—
Choosing a husband’s a delicate thing!
9,COO,OOO
worn during
tbe past sit
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This marvel
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due—
1st.—To thb
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1 *• tertaTs, 1
stiffener for
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2d.—To ths
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Avoid cheap imitations made of various kind*
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“OR. WARNER'S CORALINE”
is printed on inside of steel cover.
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A correspondent wants ustoteilhim “which
is the proper attitude for a fisherman, stand
ing or sitting ” Neither, innocent one; lying
is the only position in which ho feels entirely
at home.
Mrs. Laugiry’s new play, “As in a Looking
Glass,” was probably selected after consider
able reflection.
The Twin-City Daily says that the other day
a young man lost his mind from smoking
cigarettes, but that such loss should not unlit
him for couticuing the habit.
Speaking of queen aware, we can say they do.
Look how long Queen Victoria wears,
He who thinks too much of himself will be
in danger of being forgotten by the rest oi the
world.
“Build a little fence of trust
Around to-day;
Fill the space with loving work,
And therein stay.
Peer not through the sheltering ban
At to morrow;
God will help thee bear what comes.
Of joy or sorrow.’’
A little Methodist girl atteudod a wedding in
an Episcopal church, and when she went borne
asked her mamma, “Why did the man in the
nightgown ask if he would promise to love
cherries?”
A Classical and Mythological Dictionary.
A new work for popular use. By H.C. Faulkner. It is th«
design of this volume to provide the ordinary reader with *
brief and concise explanation of the ancient Mythological. Classi
cal, Biographical Historical, and Geographical All unions, most
frequently met with In English Literature, In art representation*
cf Classical Dsitles and Heroes, In news
paper discussions, and in ordinary Epsech.
70 Illustrations.
Brief accounts are given of all the classical f
heroes mentioned In ancient history ; also/
cf all Mythological Deities, such as Achilles,{
Adonis, Ammon. Anubia, Apollo, Atalanta,*
Atlas, Bacchus. Krahma. Buddha, Cerberus,
Canrog, Cupid, Dagoo, Dlsna, Dunra, Escu-
laplus, Euterpe, Hebe, Helena, Hercules,
Indra, Isis, Juno, Jupiter, Krishna, Mars,
Medusa, Mercury, Minerva, Moloch, Niobe,
Orpheus Osiris, Pan, Pluto, Psyche, Saturn, *
Sybil, Sirens, Terpsichore, Thalia, Thor,
Thoth, Yaruna, Venus. Vesta, Vishnu, Vul-
canYaina, and hundreds of others. A hand
book tor popular use—convenient, compre
hensive. clear, concise, correct—and written
In popular language. Tory useful to every
one who wishes to understand tlio&Q fiu'u- .
Jecte. Cloth. *** wuuuia.
With which are oombined the words opposite
in meaning. By H. 0. Faulkner. For ibe U3e
or ait those who would s*eah or writ-; the Eng
lish Language fluently and oorreotly. With
this book 3ii hand any one may readily find a
suitable word to express their exact meaning
and convey a thonght oorieotly. This book ie
invaluable to ipuakera, writers, aothors and
the oonvenafienaiiat. Handsomely b,.ond in
cloth.
For two new .ubsoribers we will sen! a copy
of either of there valuable books .n jiap>r bind
ing.
A manual of sooi*i .liqa.we. 15/ Frances Stev.
enr. Nothin# is giv.u m this book itiaa not
the sanction of ow«.rv»mw b/ the be-! society—
coatain ■ “! ch.pi.rk, luBwIaonou- t \■.I sda-
tatious. Visiting Garde and Visiting, S mgera
and New oom.rt Eagae»xieni* wwd tv.-i iinga,
Rooc-ptiox.B uJ D«buM. Pr.vate Beils mi Ger
mans, too*. D.-m* tmi K**qierAile Bvila Giv
ing, Table Etiquette, (,
eona, Breakf*<* MTn. To. ,\rt .-t giser-
taiuing. ii**sr Wc.mmg ui l.nttrti i . tfasi-
oa! “A* Huuim" tat Lrnr4*m i J • - Travel
ing UttMTt m*4 Mvisrawf IC.iquette, Wedding
and Birtkd«# Ataiv.raaria. mud Fret»eu.s, New
Year's I)*y K.ttWJt., Important General
Chmaid»raHo<M. U. i»f M.aa for svery dsy nse.
This book u ad.a>«aei.i« to ail who wish to
obtain th* meet aajoja>aoi from daily inter
course with th*;.- f.llow beings. Ha id*.>m*iy•
bound in cloth
chance of a
onc»* *o J*
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