About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 15, 1887)
2 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 “cure-all,” but as a most perfect Specific for 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,” run-down,” debilitated teachers, milliners, dressmakers, seamstresses, “shop-girls,” house keepers, nursing mothers, and feeble women generally. Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription is the greatest earthly boon, being unequaled as an appetizing cordial and restorative tonic. As a soothing and strengthening nervine, "Favorite Prescription” is une- qualed ana is invaluable in allaying and sub- duing_ nervous excitability, irritability, ex haustion, prostration, hysteria, spasms and other distressing, nervous symptoms com monly attendant upon functional and organic disease of the womb. It induces refreshing 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 pepsia and kindred symptoms, its use, iu small doses, will prove very beneficial. “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 tional action, at that critical period of change 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 ments incident to that later and most critical 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 Liver Pills), cures Liver, Kidney and Bladder diseases. Their combined use also removes blood taints, and abolishes cancerous and scrofulous humors from the system. “Favorite Prescription” is the only medicine for women, sold by druggists, under a positive guarantee, from the manu facturers, that it will give satisfaction in every case, or money will be refunded. This guaran tee has been printed on the bottle-wrapper, and faithfully carried out for many years. Fargo bottles (100 doses) $1.00, or six bottles lor $5.00. For large, illustrated Treatise on Diseases oi Women (160 pages, paper-covered), send ter 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 years. 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The titles arc as Hows: The Mystery at Blackwood Grange, by Mrs. May Agnes Caldor; The Story of a j the Sea, by Ciuru Augusta; Bitter than Death, Fleming; The Ecil Geniui Storm, by Mra. Jane G. A ust . Agatha's History, by Margaret liiout! by the author of “ bon, Thorne ’’; Out of the Depth*, by Hugil Conway; The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid, by Thomas Hardy; The Curse of Care,c, by the author of “ Dora Thorn,”; The Last of the Jtuthven*. by Miss Muiock. This great oiler la lfiade to introduce our paper into new homes. Do not miss this chance! Six aubscriptlons and six Beta of the hooka will be sent tor $1.50. Satisfaction yuaranteed or money refunded. As te riliN. Y. Address, ' -York.. 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* 7<JU
