there will be no attempt on my part to repeat
any romantic scenes.”

Lexington caught her wrist in his grip as
she emayed to pass him.

“You insist on denying to me the name of
your lover?”

She smiled at the blaze of wrath in his
eyes—smiled, from very stoniness of de~
spair.

“ I would, indeed, be lacking in all the dis-
graceful finesse you have so freely accused me
of if I divulged the name of the writer of that
letter.”

Lexington muttered an indistinct impreca-
,tion as he relaxed his hold. V

“ Guard your infamous secret as well as you
can, Mrs. Lexington; remember I‘ shall be
eternally on guard over you; and, when I

.find who he is—this lover whose name you so
loyally hide from Inc—you will hear from me.
Be so good—” and he bowed so profoundly
that the salutation was the very embodiment
of scorn, “ as to excuse my absence from din-
ner.”

He went out, into his own apartments.

Georgia sat silent, her face whitening, her
hands pressed firmly over her heart. Then—-
the delayed dinner was announced, and she
was forced to go down, in horrid mockery, and
do the honors.

(To be continued—eman in No. 298.)

Pacific Pete,

 

 

 

BY JOS. E. BADGER, .13.,

aurnon or “OLD BULL’s-m,” “YELLOW-
srom: JACK,” n'rc.’

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
BEGINNING OF THE END.

OLD BUSINESS saw that the time was not
ripe for his story, and, with a desperate effort,
regained his wonted composure. He silently
bent over Eli Brand and thrust the gag once
more between his aching, bleeding jaws, bind-
ing it securely into place, then, in a cold, dry
tone, he spoke to Mark.

“ It‘s nearly time we were taking the trail.
There’s no safety for either of you stopping
in these parts. Before this Pike will have
done his errand and will be on the road
here. It will save both time and trouble if we
go to meet him.”

“ And you?” hesitated Mark, with a side
glance toward the prisoner.

“ Will accompany you—at least until she is
beyond all risk. After that—well, if we live,
we’ll learn.” ..

In silence Old Business cooked some bacon
and made a pot of coffe, of which he partook
heartily, though neither Edna nor Mark be—
trayed much hunger. Then, after a brief

,scout around the premises, the trailer mo.
,tioned the lovers to follow them, and they
were gradually swallowed up in the darkness.

They trudged on through the night, halting
only once to afford Edna a moment’s rest.
Fatigue seemed to pass them by, unr ' .
Edna and Mark dreaming of love; the trader
was busy with the past. .

The sun had scarcely risen when they met a
strong body of men, mounted and on foot,
among the foremost of whom rode Lafe Pike.

, The greetinng seemed warm between the two
. gray-haired men; but the trailer’s voice sound-
ed hard and cold as he answered the eager,
a peahn' look. .-
p“ Yeagl’ll show you your daughter. You
have my word.” Then turning to the leader
of the posse: “ You see,,old man, I’ve kept my
word, and all you’ll have to do is to bag the
game I’ve corraled. But now—do me a favor.
Send a couple of men back with these young
folks, to Wild Cat. It’s hard to lose the fun,
I know, but I’ll pay them ten ounces apiece,
besides giving them my share of the plunder.”

Terms so liberal wore not long in being ac-
cepted, and then the quartette rode away to-
ward Wild Cat. Edna glanced back, and
seemed about to speak, but something in the
cold, stern face of the avenger repelled her,
and the words died away upon her lips.

A rapid march of several hours brought the
party within a mile of the mountain cavern,
when, at the suggestion of Old Business, they
halted long enough to overhaul their weapons
and put everything in order for a deadly, re-
lentless struggle when the conquered must die,
without hope of quarters. Then they moved
on until the top of the hollow hill could be
seen, when the trailer volunteered to spy out
the ground, and learn, if possible, whether the
outlaws suspected their presence in force.

As Old Business glided forward he was not a
little surprised to find that Lafe Pike kept him
close company. In vain he motioned him
back. " a

“ You promised to show me my child,” was
the dogged reply. “ If they kill you, you
can’t. I’m going along to fight for you if they
discover you.” ‘

Silently they crept along, nearing the cav-
ern. All was still. Not a sign of human life
could be seen. The place seemed deserted. A
sickening dread filled the trailer’s heart. Had
his game fled, just as his hand was ready to

 

maddening, and it caused him to forget the
stealthy caution thus far observed, in his
eagerness to solve the question.

He was just climbing upon the edge when a
lithe figure sprung out from the cavern and
fired two swiftly-succeeding shots, at the same
time uttering a shrill yell of taunting triumph.
The trailer flung up his arms and fell heavily
backward, bearing Pike down with him, cover-
ing him with his blood as they rolled rapidly
down the steep incline.

Laughing sharply, the marksman sprung to
the edge of the rocky platform and peered
eagerly downward. His face was ghastly
white, his black eyes were glaring with an al—
most insane fire. In that moment Pacific
Pete seemed a demon of vengeance rather
than a mortal being. '

He saw one of the figures stagger to his
feet, brushing the blood and dirt from his
eyes, then stoop and lift the limp, senseless
form of the other in his arms. It was Lafe
Pike endeavoring to carry Old Business away
from the spot of death.

Again that shrill, mocking laugh was blend-
ed with a sharp report as the deadly revolver
spoke again, and as the blue smoke—wreath
lifted upon the air, two figures were VlSlble
lying across a small bowlder, their life-blood
trickling down and mingling in one dark pool.

Then Pacific Pete vanished. The hill again
seemed deserted.

With the first shot the sheriff and his posse
started forward at the double-quick, breaking
into a full run as they witnessed the shot that
carried death to poor Pike. All thought of
prudence was cast to the Winds. Burning
with a wild lust for vengeance, those hardy
men scaled the hill, climbed over the rock
ledge, and dashed at the cavo entrance. A
withering sheet of flame~tinged smoke poured
out into their very faces, carrying death upon

 

 

 

 

    
  
   

 

The Prince of the Revolver-

close upon it? The thought was well‘nigh '

 

its leaden wings, but not even such a warm
reception could check their ardor. Clearing
the way with a storm of pistol bullets, they
plunged recklessly into the dark cavern.

Of the fight that followed but little can be
said. All details were swallowed up by the
gloom. Outnumbered by more than two to
one, the outlaws fought desperately, their per-
fect knowledge of the interior nearly equalizing
the contest. ' I

The coolest, most deliberate of all, was Pa-
cific Pete. He quietly avoided all personal
collision, contenting himself with picking off
the foremost of his enemies from a safe point.
Few, indeed, were the shots he wasted.
Wherever his revOlver pointed, there death or
disability quickly followed. More than once
his shots were answered, some keen-eyed
miner firing at the flash, but the outlaw leader
seemed to bear a charmed life, though more
than once he staggered back for a moment, as
though struck. “"

All at once the outlaw chief seemed seized
with a mortal fear. A low cry parted his
lips, the smoking weapon fell from his hand,
his face showed ghastly pale in the flickering,
uncertain light of the dying fire. And then
—-the form of Pacific Pete melted away in the
gloom, leaving his men to battle with their
stern, relentless foe as‘best they might, no
longer sustained by his presence and deadly
hand.

The darkness, as he fled, was momentarily
lighted up by a pistol-shot, and a sharp cry
broke from the outlaw’s lips as he staggered
and almost fell. Yet, the next moment his
pistol echoed forth the death knell of Juan
Cabrera; for he was the skulker who had fired
the shot, whether recognizing the one who had
so haughtily acted the master over him, or, in
his terror, believing the shadowy figure that of

an avenging vigilante, can only be surmised.

With a wavering step, struggling against
a strange lassitude; with a low, weird
ringing in his ears and a heavy weight
compressing his brain-against these the out
law chief struggled with the indomitable will
of old. And through the darkness, guided only
by habit, the strange, deathly sickness creep—
ing up, growing stronger and more choking
with every moment; still on, though above
the shuffling tread Of his heavy feet upon
the hard, rocky floor, there could be distin-
guished a faint, pattering sound—the sound of
falling blood.

His head turned, and as he glanced back, a
strange, phosphorescent fire filled his eyes, un-
til they shone and glared like the orbs of some
wild beast. Incoherent mutterings broke
from his lips. With his blood-stained hands
he motioned back-awhat?

Only in fancy was he pursued. And yet to
him these spectral forms were more terrible
than reality. The  of a lifetime were
haunting him—the victims of a wild, blood-
stained, reckless life, were troeping at his
heels in ghastly array, gibbering and mocking
at him, stretching out their long arms to grasp
him, a stern, relentless vengeance writte
upon every lineament. “

Shrieking aloud in his terror, Pacific Pete
fled through the darkness, guided by instinct
rather than reason, marking his trail with a
long line of blood, each mad bound shortening
his lease of life, pumping the hot life-blood in
strong jets from the round bulletwound.

Entering the small chamber where Mark
Austin had first wakened to captivity, the
madman sprung through the curtain and drop.
pod into the pit beyond. The rock-door still
remained open, just as Old Business and his
nephew had left it. And still followed by the
accusing phantoms, Pacific Pete hurried
through the tunnel-

. His voice was stilled now. No sound came
from his parched throat. His breath came
hot and quick. His brain seemed on fire, and
the low, weird singing in his ears grew louder
and louder, until now it seemed the deep,
looming roll Of thunder.

Yet he reached the end of thertunnel, and
with the last effort of an ovortasked frame,
flung the concealed trap—door open. Then he
drooped forward, lying half out of the open-
ing, like a dead man, never recognizing the
tall, blood—stained figure standing before him,
as though watching for his appearance.

Stooping, Old Business dragged the limp
form out of thetunnel, then, raising it in his
arms with as much apparent ease as though it
had been the body Of an infant, he strode
rapidly away. Down the valley, round the
hill point, then, bending his way toward the
main entrance Of the outlaw’s retreat, the
avenger paused only when he reached the foot
of the steep trail.

The motionless form of a man lay there,
propped against a bowlder. Only for the
faintly-moving eyes, one would have thought
him a dead man; yet Late Pike still lived-—
lived to remind the trailer of his sacred pro—

m1se.

“You told me—my child—I’m dying—and

ou—fi _

y “Harvdy Wilson, look at me well. I am
Philip Epes, your son—in—law, and here, in
Pacific Pete or Vincents Barada, the outlaw
and murderer, the man whose hand has laid
you low, behold your daughter—my wife!”

CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE GRAVE COVERS ALL.

Two human forms propped up against the
rocks, the life-blood slowly trickling down and
forming a red pool between them. The face of
one old, wrinkled, surrounded with gray hair;
the other smooth, clear as marble, despite the
gray shade of death which was steadily creep-
ing over them both. No longer disguised by
the false mustache, the neatly—fitting wig;
with garments thrown open at the throat to
assist recovery, among them a tight waist of
fawnskin, fitting closely over the swelling
bosom, compressing it into less tell-tale pro-
portions, and a flexible, magnificent shirt of
mail, whose tiny links had turned many a
dagger-point, flattened many a bullet—no
longer Vincents Barada or Pacific Pete, but-
Isabella.

Beside them
Epes.
stood there, a man among men. The blood
still trickled down his face, but he héeded not
the pain of his wound; he had thoughts only
for the two persons lying so helplessly before
him. His thoughts were busy with the past.
One by one the more prominent events of his
troubled life camo up before him. What did
he see!

‘Two brothers. One, the elder, steady and
thoughtful, a minister of the gospel. The
other a careless, devil-may—care, yet withal
good-hearted youth. “ Gospel Dick ” and him-
self.

The family of Harvey Wilson, a go«ahead
merchant of speculative tendencies, yet fiery-
tempered, vindictive and suspicious; his Wife,
a devotee of fashion; rumor added.an incor-
rigible flirt whom marriage had failed to cure;
an only child, Isabella, at that time sixteen
years of age.

Isabella and
at a ball. From that evening a new life began

 

stood Old Business—Philip

Casting aside his uncouth disguise, he ‘

Philip met and were introduced

 

for them both. Both really beautiful, both
intelligent and accomplished, both young, their
veins filled with hot, ardent blood, both fell in

love. Philip proposed; Isabella acknowledged
that the sentiment was reciprocated, and the
next morning the lover waited upon the great
merchant in his office.

A stormy scene. Wilson twitted Philip
with his poverty, accusing him of being a
beggarly fortunahunter. Epes angrily re.
torted; the result—ejected with positive vio-
lence from the store by the porters.

That night all Baltimore was convulsed—
horrified with the rumor of a terrible crime in
high life. Harvey Wilson had been arrested
for a double murder.

The brief truth was this. 'After his stormy
interview with Philip, the merchant hastened
home, knowing the headstrong temperament
of, his daughter, and fearing an elopement.
He found his Wife with company—an ex-cap—
tain of the regulars, as well as one whom his
Wife had thrown over for him. What he «saw
was never known. Enough that it made him
a madman, or rather developed the germ of
insanity, long hereditary in his family.

The servants fled, and summoned assistance.
Wilson was captur‘itl after a frightful struggle.
The room resembled a slaughter pen. His
wife, the man, lay there dead. His daughter,
who had rashly sought to stay his hand, was
insensible, covered with blood, breathing hard;
the physician decided that the fractured skull
could only result in death or insanity.

Harvey Wilson was pronounced insane and
sent to the State Asylum. For five years he
remained an inmate, then was discharged as
cured. For what? He was a ruined man, in
health, mind and earthly goods. He asked
for his daughter. She had died, so they told
him. Then he disappeared—no one knew or
cared whither.

Better for all, perhaps, had Isabella died.
But, despite the doctor’s predictions, she re—
covered; seemingly as well ms before, both in
body and mind, yet—. Philip remained true
to her, and despite the prayers and reasonings
of his brother, married her. That was the
last feather. The brothers parted in anger,
never to meet again in life. ‘

Then came a few fast fleeting months of al~
most delirious happiness—Jar too intense to be
lasting. All in all to each other, Isabella and
Philip lived in their cozy southern home—an
humble cottage, but all that he could afford.
It was a sturdy struggle, but he kept the wolf
from the door, and asked nothing better so
long as he had herlove to sustain him when
jaded and weary. Thus the months passed

by.

A little daughter was born unto them.
Their cup of bliss seemed full. Yet, the bond
that should have drawn their hearts still closer
together was fated to sever them. No longer
even—tempered and sunny, Isabella gradually
gave way to fits of gloom and despondency,
which grew deeper day by day, until she at
length taunted Philip with his poverty. Day
by day it grew worse, until he, knowing how
little he deserved her bitter words, took to
drlnk. I
In one of his'sprees he visited New Orleans,
and with an extraordinary run of luck broke
one of the richest gambling banks in the city.
A month later Isabella found herself mistress
of a mansion in the Queen City. And Philip
Epes became a professional gambler.

Though his wife was gay, fond of fashiona-
ble dissipation, he never once dreamed of the
terrible blow in store for him, until he found
that Isabella had fled from him with a hand-
some gambler, his partner, in fact, one Mau-
rice Vanoy, taking their child with her.

Two years later he found them. At Eli
Brand’s feet he killed V 0y; but then lost all
trace of both his wife and ' d. it

Of his subsequent life, enough has already
been detailed in these pages, for the reader to
connect the stray threads.

Of Isabella, conjecture alone can aid us.
The wild life upon which she voluntarily en-
tered after the death of her lover, can only be
explained by referring to the taint of insanity
hereditary in her blood, added to the terri-
ble shock of that day, when she was stricken
down by the bloodstained hand of her father.
Her “ double life,” as Isabella and Pacific
Pete, was probably devised at first as a “ car ,”
to increase the interest in “The Golden Horn
of Plenty,” but the mad passion with which
Mark Austin inspired her, caused the part to
be played far more openly than she had in-
tended, and finally proved her ruin.

With a low, faint sigh, Isabella opened her
eyes. Yet o film seemed spread before them,
as she gazed feebly, wonderineg around. She
started as a cry broke from Wilson’s lips, but
her eyes met his without recognition.

“ Do you know me?" said Philip Epes, speak-
ing in a cold, monotonous tone, as he bowed
his head until their eyes were upon a level.

“ Look at me well.”

A convulsive shudder shOok the woman’s
frame, and a wild, hunted look came into her
eyes, as she strove to speak. But the words
refused utterance Only a blood—flocked froth
tinged her lips.

“ I see you have not forgotten,” the trailer
continued. “ It is well. I wanted you to
know all before you died. I don’t mean to re—

‘ proach you with the past; you were a woman

---all is said in those words. But I wanted
you to know that my vengeance has never
slept since the day when I was first wakened
to a sense of my folly, of your perfidy. I kill.
ed your lover; I destroy ed your band at Wild
Cat, just as I have here. I have thwarted you
in everything. That, has been my revenge.
You were a woman, and I could not strike at
your life.

“ I saved her—our daughter—just as I saved
him, my nephewwthe man whom you tried
to make love you. They afé’together now.
They love each other, and before this week
ends, they will be wedded to each other. This
ifs my revenge.

“ Look at the man before you. He is dying.
Your hand aimed the shot that cuts short his
life. And that man is—your father! This is
my revenge!”

Only once did the look of Wild terror change
-—when the trailer mentioned Mark’s name.
Then a. slight spasm, a longing look in the
large eyes; after it theyold, hunted look.

Epes gnawed his long mustache moodily,
as he stood looking down upon the ghastly-
white face. He saw now that his words had
fallen meaningless upon her ears. He saw her
eyes light up, saw the hunted look pass from
her face, while a faint smile played around
her lips. He heard the words—low, faint as
the fluttering breath of a new—born infant:

“ Mark-forgive me—’twas love that—that
made me so—so cruel. I love you—my God!
how I lovo you!”

As though gifted with a supernatural
strength, she stretched “but her arms and
leaned forward, a look of ineifable love in her
eyes, though the frothy blood gurgled from
her mouth.

This movement, the sound of her voice,
seemed to awaken Harvey Wilson, though, un-

' til then, he looked like one already dead. That

 

 

 

soft tone, the look of yearning love seemed to
be for him. He leaned forward—their arms
closed around each other’s forms, their last
breath mingled; then all was over.
and daughter were at rest.

 

The victorious sheriff and his posse found
their guide strangely engaged, digging a grave
beneath the bullet—scarred, cedar, with his
knife and hands. Their questions were an-
swered by a look so strange and chilling that
the boldest drew back with a vague dread.
And so they left him, alone with his dead.

Doggedly he persevered in his laborious
task. The pit grew deeper and deeper. Ever
and anon he would pause and gaze upon the
two forms, still locked in that strange em-
brace. But the hard, stern look had left his
face. Instead came, at such moments, an ex-
pression of unutterable anguish. His heart
was not yet dead. "

Carefully he moved the’bodies to the grave.
Baring his head and casting a. swift look
around, he bent forward and pressed his lips
twice upon the Cold, white forehead. It was
the seal of forgiveness.

In one grave the father and child were
laid. The earth ‘was heaped over them. A
flat stone, marked with a rude cross, was
placed at the head. And them—with bared
head bowed down, Philip Epes knelt beside
the grave of his wife.

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
THREE TABLEAUX.

THE pale moon looked down upon Dick’s
Pocket, its silvery beams faintly lighting up
the peculiar scene. The wind moaned fitfully
through the tree-tops and around the ragged
bowlders and pinnacles of gray rock, Causing
the weird, fantastic shadows of bush and tree
to glide here and there, to assume a thousand
strange shapes, until it seemed as though the
phantom world had sent forth a delegation to
witness the expiation of a. terrible crime.

The figure of a man knelt beside the grave
Of Gospel Dick. His head was bared, his gar-
ments torn and blood stained; a look of un-
utterable horror was upon his face as he up-
lifted it toward the orb of night.

Tall, with folded arms, his form drawn rig—
idly erect, a man stood over the kneeling,
cowering figure. His face was worn and hag-
gard, marked here and there with streaks of
half—dried blood. There was a hard, steely
glitter in his eyes. A statue of stone would be
easier to move than his heart.

And yet, in a husky, strained voice, the
kneeling wretch begs and pleads for mercy—-
for time to repent and save his soul from utter
destruction. With a cold, icy smile, the
avenger raises one hand and points upward
to heaven. ’Tis there he must hope for mercy;
there was none for him upon earth.

Then the voice of the avenger echoed hol-
lowly through the little valley — counting
the fast-fleeting seconds that separated the
convicted assassin from the Great Hereafter.

A brief instant of horrible, sickening silence.
A wild shriek from the lips of the doomed

wretch. The sharp, spiteful crack of a revolu

ver.

The moon slowly vailed its face behind a
cloud. The moaning wind suddenly lulled.
The silence of death reigned_:over Dick’s
Pocket. ’ '

 

Again it is night; but a far different scene
awaits our attention.

All day Wild Cat has been in a. commotion.
Not because its bold sheriff alfi his gallant
posse have returned from their brief but suc-
cessful campaign against Vincents Barada’s
band Of outlaws; that victory had already
been commemorated by a “ general drunk.”
No; something far more important was on the
tapis. For the first time since its birth, Wild
Cat was to witness a genuine wedding. Little
wonder, then, at the excitement being so gen-
eral. Little wonder that a. delegation waited
upon the bridegroom elect, and, in an eloquent
speech, made known the earnest sentiments of
the Wild Catians. How bitterly unjust it
would be for him to persist in having the cere~
mony take place in the tiny little parlor of the
Occidental Hotel, where not one tithe of the
petitioners could even go one eye upon the soul-
thrilling spectacle: He, the mouthpiece of the
honorable Wild Catians, begged to offer a sub-
stitute for the close, musty room; and so elo-
quently did he plead the case, that Edna,
blushing like an angel in human guise, signed
Mark to accede to the request.

There was not a laggard in all Wild Cat,
that day. A constant string of sturdy figures
in flannel shirts and slouched wide-awakes
passed to and from the foothills, bearing great
bundles of evergreens. Poles were firmly
planted in the road, and cedar sprigs and pine
boughs were draped around them until a
beautiful triumphal arch surmounted the ev-
ergreen altar. For hundreds of yards around
the ground was carpeted with the fragrant
green sprays. And when the shades of night
descended, all was in readiness.

The congregation was assembled, long before
the appointed hour. Ah, what a glorious
sight it was—one upon which the bright sun,
the pale moon, nor the twinkling stars of Wild
Cat had ever shone before. Let it go upon re—
cord here, as a matter of history; each and ev-
ery Wild Cat there present had washed his
face and hands, had combed both hair and
beard! What matter that the fishes in the
usually clear Vinegar Creek gasped and puff-
ed, rubbing their eyes in mute wonder as the
limpid stream gradually grew darker and
more dense as the pulverized sand and long—
accumulated smoke-tan slowly and reluctantly
floated away from the human society to which
it had so long and affectionately clung? As
an offset, didn’t the sand—sparrows chirp with
delight as they chased the queer little rolls of
sunburnt hair that rolled before the sea breeze;
it made such cosy nest-lining. Indeed that
was a day long to be remembered.

The handsome couple—Edna blushing, her
eyes lustrous with love; Mark proud, treading
as if upon air—passed up the human-lined
aisle. And Oh! what a proud man was Turn-
up—Jack Gillson when the moccasined foot of
the blooming bride accidentally trod upon his
newly-washed cowhide boot! From that mo-
ment he looked down with scorn upon the
“ dollar ante—ites”; all those who cravad the
honor of his acquaintance must have eyes too
big for anything smaller than “ quarter
slugs.”

The words were spoken. A tall, stately mm
gave away the bride—he whom the reader has
known as Old Business. ‘

Then—the real fun began. Two fiddles
struck up a lively tune. A dozen sets were
quickly formed~“ stag-dances ”—-—the beautiful
bride looking on and smiling with a look of
ineffable happiness. Then Mark whispered in
her ear—she nodded a laughing assent. Ah!
what a ringing cheer went up to heaven as the
handsome couple joined one of the sets! Hap-
py Wild Cats!

Twenty years have passed by since the our-

Father '-

 

  

tain fell. It is evening—a balmy day in early
summer. A prairie farm in Kansas. A
small, but cozy frame building, covered to the
roof With vines and rose~bushes. Under shade
of the young elm trees before the house, are
gathered four generations. First “ Old Busi-
ness,” still halo and hearty. Then Mark Aus-
tm and his buxom wife, Edna. They have
seven children, two of them married, and now
a happy mother and father.
‘And so the sun goes down upon them, and
hides them from our eyes, forever.
THE END.

 

 

From the A7610. York Tribune.

A WANT SUPPLIED.

The American mind is active. It has i

books of fiction for ..the sentimentalist,glggzt'lngd
books for the scholar and professional student but
jew books for the people. A book for thepeople must
relate to a subject of universal interest. Such a
subject 15 the physical man, and such a. book “ THE
Psornn’s COMMON SENSE MEDICAL ADVISER,” a copy
of which has'been recently laid on our table. The
high professmnal attainments of its author—Dr. R.
V. PIERCE. of Buffalo, N. Y.—-and the advantages
denved by him from an extensive practice, would
alone insure for his work a. cordial reception. But
these are not the merits for which it claims our at-
tention. . The author is a man of the people. He
sympathizes with them in all their afflictions ef-
forts and attainments. He perceives their waut—
a knowledge of themselves—and believin that all
truth should be. made as universal as od’s own
sunlight, from his fund of learnin and experience
he has produced a work in which e gives them thO
benefits of his labors. In it he considers man in
every phase of his existence, from the moment he
emerges “from a rayless atom, too diminutive for
the Sight, until he gradually evolves to the matu-
rity of those Oonscious Powers, the exercise of
whichafurmshes subjective evidence of our immor—
tality. Proceeding upon the theory that every
fact of mmd .has a physical antecedent. he has
given an admirable treatise on Cerebral Physiolo-
gy, and shown the bearings of the facts thus estab-
lished upon individual and social welfare. The au-
thor believes With Spencer, that “as vigorous
health and its accompanying high spirits are larger
elements of happiness than any other things what-
ever, the teaching how to maintain them is a teach-
ing that yields to no other whatever," and accord-
ingly has introduced an extensive discussion of the
met ods by which we may preserve the integrity
of the system and ofttimes prevent the onset of
disease. Domestic Remedies—their preparation
uses and effects—form a prominent feature of the;
work. The hygienic treatment, or nursing of the
sick, 1s an important subject, and receives atten-
t10n_commensurate with its importance. Nearl
all dlseases “ to which flesh is heir ” are describe;
their symptoms and causes explained, and proper
domestic treatment suggested. To reciprocate
the man favors bestowed upon him by a generous

ublic, t e author offers his book at a price ($1.50)

. ittle exceeding the cost of publication. Our rea-

ders can Obtain this tactical and
byaddressing the autllior. valuable work

THE WEEKLY SUN.

1776. NEW YORK. 1876.

Eighteen hundred and sevent -six is the Gen e
year. It is also the yearin which an Oppositiontfilguig
of Representatives, the first since the war will be in
power in W8?llln ton; and the year of the twenty-
thir election of a esident of the United States. All
of these events are sure to be of great interest and im-
portance, especially the two latter; and all of them
and everything connected with them will be fully
and freshly reported and ex ounded in THE SUN.

The Opposition House 0 vRepresentatives, taking
up the line or in ulry opened years ago by TH]: Sun
wxll sternly and ihgent y investigate the corruptioné
and misdeeds of Gnsnr‘s administration; and will it
is to be hoped, lay the foundation for a. new and but-
ter period in our national history. Of all this Tm:
SpN yvillcontsin com lete and accurate accounts fur-
nishing its reade 9 With early and trustworthy illfor-
mation upon these absorbing to ion.

The twenty-third Presidentia election, with the
preparations for it, _Wlll be memorable as deciding up-
on Gnm s aspirations for a third term of power and
plunder, and still more as deciding who shall be the
cindidate of the party of Reform, and as electing that
candidate. Concerning all these subjects, those who
read THE SUN will have the constant means of beino
thoroughly well informed. a

Ten WEEKLY SUN, which has a‘ tained a circulation
of over e1 hty thousand copies, already has its readers
in every taste and Territor , and we trust that the
year 1876 Will see their num ere doubled. It will con-
tinue to has thorough newspaper. All the general
news of the day Will be found in it, condensed when
unimportant, at full length when of moment; and al-
wayshwe trust, treated in a clear, Interesting and in-
stinctive manner};

t_is our aim 0 make the WEEKLY SUN the

family newspaper in the world, and we shall contillilisd
to give in its columns a large amount of miscellane-
one reading, such as stories, tales, poems, scientific
intelligence and agncul ural info;mation. for which
we are not able to make room in our daily edition.
The agricultural department especially is one of its
prominent features. The fashions are also re larly
reported In its columns; and so are the marflts of
every kmd.

The WEEKLY SUN, eight pages with fifty-six broad
columns, is only V3120 a year, postage prepaid. As
this price barely repays the cost of the paper, no dis-
count can be made from this rate to clubs agents
Polsamlgters orS any one. ’ ’

e ALLY UN, 9. large four-pa e news ' e
twenty-eight columns, gives all the ngews for twcgnl):
a copy. Subscription, postage prepaid, 55 cents a
month, or $6.50 a year. SUNDAY edition extra, $1.10
per year. We have no travelinrr a cute Address

THE SUE, ew York City.

100 POPULAR SONGS,

Words and Music, sent postpaid on recei t f '
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A MONTH--A t -
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| v A WEEK to ants. Old and Y0 —
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WYOMING MONTHLY

LOTTERY

Draws on the 80th of each month. By authority of the
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