uitllnniiuililll In. . mnniiiiiiiiiit l iiiiiililliiiiii humid 1 l will" “1min!!! l Illiix‘iililflilllilil l Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by BEADLE AND Anans, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. lil?.iil|flllli ‘ Ill‘! l’" E. F. V01- 111- , straddles-imam TERMS IN ADVANCE{One copy, one year . . . One copy, four months, $1.00. 3.00. we copies, one year . 5.00. ‘ No. .131. AT THE BREAK or my. v BY ARNOLD ISLER. Leaving silent chamber For thesylvan lawn : Viewing Nature’s beauties At the break of dawn; For Nature seemeth fairest, (So the poets say) ; Loveliest and liveliest, At the break of day- Listening to the murmurs , .Of watersflowing by -, Beautifuldeep river ! Clear as a ,maiden’s eye. Merrily and cheerfully ‘ Rippling away; Every thing seemeth lively At the break of day. Listening to the song-birds, - . So full of love and cheer; Flitting through the branches, , Ofttimes flitting near. Deliciously Caroling Morning hours away ; Every thing seemeth lively At the break of day. Listen, birds, oh. listen! Some sweet voice I hear ; Yes, it is my darling, Coming, coming near l Pretty dark-eyed Katie, Ever blithe and gay, Singing inflthe morning, At the break of day. Hallo ! here is Rover, Standing on a rail l Jolly little fellow wiggling his tail ! Hears somebody whistling— Quickly runs away: Every thing seemeth lively At. the break of day. Golden sun appearing In the distant East, Majestically rising—— Heavens! what a feast ! l Every thing seemeth lovely, Pleasant, bright and gay—- Every thing seemeth lively At the break of day! Wronged Heiress: The Vultures‘ondf New York. A WEIRD REMAIN! flli THE GREAT METBBPDUS. BY RETT WINWOOD. AUTHOR OF “THE WHITE SPECTER," “WHO WAS SHE ‘2” “ BAFFLED; on, THE DEBENHAM PROP- ERTY ;” “ THE DANGEROUS WOMAN,” “ TWO LOVES,” “MIRIAM BEE- vons'r’s SECRET,” ETC. CHAPTER IV. FRIEND AND FOE. THESE words had-scarcely passed the vil- lain’s lips when the door was pushed sud- denly and violently open, and a young man dashed into the apartment. “ Don’t be too sure of that!” he exclaim- ed, drawing a pistol from the breast pocket of the hunting-jacket he had on, as he sprung to Mabel’s rescue. Bill Cuppings turned to confront the in- truder. But he was taken wholly unawares by the suddenness of the unexpected on- slaught. Before he could stir from his tracks, the young man had brought the butt of the pistol he carried down upon his head with stunning force. ' The villain reeled, caught helplessly at the empty air, then fell like a log to the floor. As Mabel turned, her heart full of grati- tude to thank her deliverer, an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. \ '- v “ Philip Jocelyn l » Is it possible?” The young man echoed her cry. “ You, Mabel, you? I can scarcely believe the evi- dence of my senses.” ~ » He did, indeed, look very much bewilder-i ed. “ I heard your cry for help,” he added, hastily. “But I had not the slightest idea to whose assistance I was hurrying.” 1 He was a tall, handsome fellow, of some twenty-two years of age. » His face was the type of a manly beauty, the features being regular and full of a noble resolution and unflinching courage. In brief, his was the sort of countenance to inspire instinctive trust. * ' ' ‘And thus did Mabel Trevor interpret its varying expression. Itwas merely the re- cognition of one noble soul by another. She had met Philip Jocelyn the previous summer while he was on the Jersey coast for almonth’s fishing and hunting Congeniality of tastes in most respects had brought them frequently together during those four happy weeks. 4 When: the brief, bright month wasover, Philip had gone back to his city home to take up the old life of aristocratic do-nothingness, and a wall had been built up between the two which no friendly meetings and no mes- sages of any sort had beaten down. Now the young man held out his hand to Mabel with all the old winning frankness that had charmed her in the bright days of the past. " - “ I can not tell you howrejoiced I‘am to meet with you once more,” he said, gently. Mabel’s long lashes *sWept her checks as she murmured, softly, in reply: , - . “IHow does‘it happen that you are here, Mr. -Jocelyn,'in this lonely wood?” I “I came down from New York with a party of friends for a week’s hunting. To— night I'happened to stray away from my companions and became somewhat bewil— dered by‘ the intricate windings of the forest. Some fortunate chance directed my - footsteps to this spot, and I reached the house just in season to hear your scream for help, and that villain’s last words. He contemptuously touched Bill Cup— pings’ prostrate body with his foot as he ESI)()1§13. ', V . _ I . _ i . _..‘.....--——-—-———<—-—.- “‘-—.‘U—vu—~w—-i-u-_A————. ‘ / Mabel shuddered. “ You arrived just in ‘ time to save my life,” she said. i “ Good God! That villain did not really intend to kill you ‘3” .“ I am 'sure‘t’hat he did.” ' v Philip Jocelyn opened wide‘his eyes in utter amazement. “ I did not think he was quite so desperate. What had you done that he should seek your life ?” “ Nothing.” . “Why are you here, so far away from home '2” ~ I “I had set out for New York, and lost my way. . I intended to takethe night train at Milton.” . He looked at her somewhat ‘curiously. “ Why were you going to New York?” he asked. “Granny Wells is dead. _ I must seek a new home somewhere. Besides, I have an- other motive more powerful than all the rest, for wishing to go to the city.” “ Will/you tell me what it is ?” She briefly related her simple storye-M‘rs. Laudersdale’s visit to the old hovel—«Gran- ny Wells’ sudden death—her own mad journey, and the encounter with Bill Cup- in s. ' ' Philp J ocelyn’s face grew very pale as he listened. ‘ a “ This is a strange story,” he said, when Mabel ceased to speak. “ I hardly know what to make of it. Had any other-person related it tome, I should inst‘antlyrhaVe set him down as a madman.” ' ‘ ' ‘ I ' “Mabel clasped'hcr hands and ‘gave him an appealing look. “I am not mad,” she cried. “I have told you the truth from first to last.” ’ ' - “ I believe that you have,” he returned, gravely. “I would as soon doubt the word r of an angel in heaven. It is very fortunate that we chanced to meet. I can take you ’ directly to lVoodlawn.” “ Do you know the Laudersdales ?” “Yes.” He might have added that he was regard- ed as Marcia Denvil’s lover by many, but did not choose to do so. “ I can see how it is,” cried Mabel, lifting NEW YORK, SEPTEMBER 14., 1872. Before he could stinthe youngman brought the buttofhis pistol down a penetrating glance to his face. "‘ The Laudersdales are your friends. You are re- luctant to think ill of them." / “ That is true.” ‘ “ And they will be sure to hate you if you befriend me.” " * “ I’care' not for that,” he returned, ear- nestly. “ If Mrs. Laudersdale is the wicked woman you think her,‘I have no desire for her friendship.” ‘ ' “She sought my lifeml know she did,” sobbed Mabel. “ Do you not recognize that man lying at your'feet ‘3” ' * The young man leaned over Bill’s mo- ' tionless figure and scanned his features. “ No,” he replied, after a pause. “ I do not remember ever to have seen him.” “ He said he was Mrs. Laudcrsdalc’s ser- vant.” ‘ “It is possible.” “And that she sent him here to take in 1 life.” ‘ Philip answered nothing. He seemed buried in deep thought for some minutes. "‘ You think Mrs. Laudersdale’s husband knew nothing of the whole affair?” he said, at last. “I am sure of it. ,Hc would befriend me, I think, if I could once gain an inter- view with him. ” It is “only that infamous woman I have to fear.” At this juncture, Bill Cuppings’ breast be- ’ gan to heave, and the muscles of his face to twitch convulsively. “ The poor wretch is reviving,” cried Mabel, to whose quick eye not a movement was lost. “Let us leave this place at once. The owner 'of the house may return at any moment, and then we will have double odds to contend against?" ' “ What do you mean f” “‘ He is a friend and ally of that man.” “ Then the sconer we are off the better.” Bill’s breathing was now perfectly audi- ble. Philip raised him to a sitting posture, leaning his head against the wall. Then he hastily quitted the house, leading Mabel by the hand. ' A. few rods distant the horses Mabel and ‘ her would-be murderer had ridden to this upon his head With stunning force. ' spot were found busily browsing. They hurriedly mounted the backs of the faithful brutes, their movements somewhat accele- rated by the sound of a heavy footstep en- tering the house, and the murmur of voices in that direction. They had scarcely struck into the nearest discernible path when a loud shout rung on the air behind them, and two or three pistol-shots were fired in rapid succession. The. bullets whizzed harmlessly over the heads of the fugitives. “ We'are just in time,” said Philip, in a low, deep tone of voice, as they put spurs to their horses. “Mine host of the black house in the woods has evidently arrived.” . They rode as rapidly‘as the darkness and the intricate windings of the forest would permit. There were no further signs of pursuit, however. Soon after midnight the trees became sparser and smaller, and final- ly the fugitives emergedinto the open coun- try. , .. After a short gallop acress the fields, they reached a small farm-house. Here they sought shelter for the night, which was readily accorded by the hospitaw ble inmates. In the morning they discovered that there distant,from whence they could take the cars to New York. Though jaded and worn, they decided to resume their gourney at the earliest practi- cable momen Consequently, long ere the sun had reached its meridian, they were on the way to the city. . About mid-afternoon they stood outside one of the smaller gates leading into the ex- tensive grounds which were the glory of Woodlawn. . , .Here‘Mabel detained her companion. “I have nothinglmore to fear,” she said ingen— uously. “ Let me say good-by to you here.” “ And why good-by ‘2” he asked, evincing no slight degree of surprise, - “ I prefer to go on to the housealone.” He looked at her sharply. “I think I comprehend your object in leaving me here,” he said, after a moment’s thinking. “You was a small station only about four miles I wish to spare me all unpleasant conSequen- ces that are likely to accrue from having piloted you to this spot.” Mabel blushed-and seemed nota little , confused. i . y“ I am no coward,” he added, hastily. f‘ Let us move on. I will see Mrs. Lenders- (lale myself.” , “ No, no, no. Indeed I, would rather go alone. It is best that I should.” , He looked puzzled, at: a loss. “ Some— thing might happen to you,” he urged. _“ If Mrs. Laudersdal'e, is really the, infamous woman you, think her, your, appearanceat Woodlawn will drive her desperate. She will leave no means untried to accomplish your destruction.” . i , r , r “I do not fear her,” said Mabel, bravely. “ I shall ask to see Mr, Laudersdale, in the first place, and tell him my story.” “13080.” .. .r “I am sure he will protect me, though I can not give a. very satisfactory reason for my faith, other than his wife’s overweening desire to keep us apart.” ’ _ .Philip . Jocelyn seemed strangely grave and thoughtful, A dim foreboding of evil shot through heart and brain as he stood there with that helpless girl leaning so con- fidingly onhis arm. ’ “May God keep you and watch over you, ‘ Mabel,” he said,.,in a thrilling whisper. “ I am sure that He ,will.” “ YOu will remain, at lVoodlawnh-I may call to-morrow to see you ‘3” “Yes,” she answered, “you may come.” And then they parted. - Mabel passed in at the gate, and walked slowly along a shaded path that led up to the house. . ._ Though she knew it not, a man’s figure rose from the shrubbery only a few feet from where she and Philip had been stand- ing, and noiselessly followed her. . V She had accomplished less than half th distance to the house when, on turning a sudden bend in the path, she came face to faco with a woman who was advancing in the opposite direction. That woman was Mrs. Laudersdale. . Mabel stood for a moment as if riveted to the spot. The knowledge of the immi- nent peril that must, perforce, threaten her in that wicked J ezebel’s presence, shot with lightning-like rapidity upon her mind. She stood as if stricken dumb, her face blanched to the ashen hue of a. corpse. All power of locomotion seemed to have left her trembling limbs. , v While she stood thus, helpless and speech. less, a mocking laugh sounded close to her , ear, and the voice of Bill Cuppings—‘dhe man she had left lying in a half-senseless condition in the lone house in the woods—- cried out in a loud, jeering tone: » “ Caught, caught again, my lady l" , CHAPTER V. 'rwo PRECIOUS SCOUNDRELS. BEFORE following the further fortunes of our heroine, let us go back for a few min- utes, to the lone house in the woods. Philip Jocelyn and Mabel had scarcely left the building in. their precipitate flight, and Bill Cuppings was slowly rising to his feet, his senses fully restored, when a new- comer made his appearance on the scene. This person was a man of about fifty years of age. He was of herculean build, square—shouldered, deep—chested, with long and muscular arms. His physiognomy was any thing but prepossessing, the mouth be ing coarse and sensual, the chin protruding, the nose being incongruously sharp and thin, and ending in a very well-defined hook. . . In short, he bore a slight but decided re- semblance to Bill Clippings himself. Not needlessly to, puzzle the reader, we will here inform him that thetwo men were brothers. They went by different names, however, and never acknowledged the‘rela- tionship, save to each other. ~,,» The new-comer had selected for him- self the cognomen of Miles Dufi‘. We use the word “selected” advisedly. He had no legal claim to the name, but was invariably spoken of as “ Miles” by his ccnfreres, very few of whom, if any, knew his true patronymic. Indeed, he had passed under so many aliases during his eventful career, that he scarcely knew it himself. Need we say that Bill Cuppings was also an. assumed name? V Miles, who was the master of the house of whom Bill had made mention to Mabel Trevor—had been beating the bushes for an hour or two, in search of game upon which to make his frugal supper. The iu~ stant he reached the clearing in which the house stood, he had caught the gleam of the candle-light in the kitchen window. Angry at the thought that anybody should dare take possession of his premises in his absence, he had hurried to his house —unwittingly passing Philip and Mabel in the darkness—and had crossed the thresh- old with no gentle tread. - “ Who in the devil’s name are you ‘2” he growled out, catching a glimpse of a man’s figure leaning against the wall. i. Striding a step or two nearer, he recog- nized his brother. ‘ “ You, Bill l”, he exclaimed, recoiling. ' “ What brought you here at this particular time ‘3” The rough passed his hands once or twice aeross his brow, as if to clear away some mist that still brooded darkly there. A. fierce, tigerish gleam Came into his evil- looking eyes. “They’re gonc,’.’, he muttered. between his teeth, without paying the slightest at- /