7‘». ‘. 4,- .4": 4"?“ ‘l :3 . "-’Ah . _ «(i '/ ._ / ‘. cr- ‘V H emasculated—degraded! terly men fail to read women”—.-she pressed her lips to his forehead, once—thriceq—and the carriage wasbearing him away alone, with the touch'of her caress scorching like a flame upon his brow. w -, ‘ ~ ,« e - _. . The summer fled, andtno word passed be. tween Erie Lindon and Theda Martyne; the autumn, blood-dyed, like the far-away battle- fields, faded; and one dreary day, when wm- ter’s first storm of snow beat against. Lindon’s office window, he listlesst cut the leaves of a new magazine and started at thename he saw there. He loved the woman who bore it as intensely as he, morbid, reckless, miserable, could love any one. And he knew since their last parting, and the tacit silence that had followed,» that Theda loved him. But the haughty woman whose promise he had won to be his wife was wealthy; and he needed her gold to reburnish his fame, which each day lost somewhat of its luster; to re—win wealth, that he had squandered. . Miss Martyne was writing, with a dash and vividness that had placed her name already in a firstclass magazine. Erle understood the subtle power that had wooed her into the paths of literature. He knew the passion breathing in every line her white hand had traced, was her love for him transferred to the conception of her intellect; and, with feverish jealousy, he would fain have torn those pages from the book, that others might not cull these blossoms of a plant his hand had trained. With an impatient, mad desire upon him, he sauntered toward the saloon where he and Theda had so often met; and there she sat. Warmly, passionately beautiful she looked, her dark eyes drooping wearily, and her hand toying in the old, restless fashion with a half— filled wine—glass. He stood before her with out- stretched hands. Instantly she clasped them, questioning, “Erle, what is the matter?" He had paled and flushed at her touch, and now he stood before her, wan- and haggard. She, cool and self-conquering, motioned him to the chair at her side, and pushed toward him a glass of wine. As he drank she spoke on indifferent subjects and they fell into the old, desultory talk; and neither cared that the twilight had fallen, and the storm beat more heavily upon the windows. When she arose ‘he ordered a carriage, entering it with her un- hidden. Then he spoke passionately, pleadingly: “ Theda, say you love me!” “What good will that do?” she answered, sadly, her eyes dreamin tender, and her hand wandering caressineg to his. “This good!” he broke forth, impetuously. “I will marry you! I cannot live without you! Say that I may—now—to-night——make you my wife!” She looked into his flushed, haggard face and hesitated. Would he wish this to-morrow. away from her; uninfluenced by passion or wine? Then the demon in her soul whispered, what matter how you win him—so he is yours? u Yes.” Erle was content with her sweet hands clasped in his, her kisses, at last, upon his lips. Only when they stood waiting for the clergy- man some thought flashed through his mind of what he was doing. “Once for all, Theda, you will not repent this? My name has lost the honor it had in the long-ago days, and storms are gathering darkly about my life.” “ Yet I do not hesitate to link my life with it,” she answered him, bravely; and then the clergyman commenced the marriage cere- mony. As they went away, man and wife, Theda whispered: “Erle, we will both redeem the past with the future.” “ Too late!” he answered her, sadly. “Now. when most I need the strength and honor of my youth, I know that my uncurbed passions are my masters. The golden promises of my manhood have turned to ashes! It is too late! too late, Theda!” - And on her marriage eve Theda Lindon was forced to look upon her idol—shattered! The strength she had worshiped and idealined in Erie Lindon was not. Alone, and miserable, unutterably misera- ble, Theda Lindon, the month-old bride, wait- ed at midnight for her husband’s coming. At last his hand threw open the door. Straight to her chair he came, and, kneeling, hid his face in her lap. “Theda, poor little girl, I am ruined! dis- honored!” With the control she had learned so well, she said, softly: “ You are weary now—no— don’t talk! You can tell me in the morning. You need rest, my darling.” She was a tender wife, remembering that perhaps she had helped to make her husband what he was. With her arms about him he arose. . “Brandy,” he said, feverishly; “ give me some brandy, Theda!” “Please not, darling!” He kissed her, passionately. After the ca- ress, with tears in her eyes, she offered him the drink. He must have something to quiet the unstrung nerves, the intense mental ex— citement under which he was laboring. He assayed again to tell her what troubled him. She sealed his lips with kisses. ‘ “Erle, I willingly share any disgrace as your wife. DO not worry; try to rest, and tell me in the morning.” But in the morning a terrible fever raged in his veins; and his confessions, and doubts, and ravings, were heartbreaking to the remorse- stricken woman who watched him. " “ Theda, Theda,” he would cry, pitifully, “ you could have saved me—you could have saved me!” Was it not true? She was a reckless, social- ly-ruined woman; sinking fast into the whirl- pool that was closing over Erle, because—she had made no effort to save herself. Had she retained her own pure faith and womanliness, she might have helped him. For many days and nights she was forced to bear the acute agony of listening to that accusing cry, until the lips uttering it grew cold and silent for- ever. Only twenty-one was Theda Lindon, the pen~ niless widow of a gambler, a drunkard, and a forger; but she had existed ages in experience; a heartsick, remorse-haunted woman, versed in the bitter experiences of the city’s great un- dercurrent of fashionable folly. Yet she lived, and assayed to earn money and forgetfulness by the writing that had brought success before its sorrowful interrup- tIon. But the weary brain and languid hands refused to do her bidding until, at last, in a frenzy of despair, she took the stimulants that; could arouse her to the desired efforts. Day after day she used the deadly poison; and day after day her work grew under her hand, until it was completed, and launched upon the bil— lows of public criticism. Genius was, stamped upon its every page; but, alas, it was a genius A book that the young Would read with avidity, and put aside without'gaining moral or mental elevation-.— rather, with the shadow of a taint upon their . purity and faith. A book, splendid in concep- tion, that thrilled, fascinated, compelled admi- ration, hut elicited profoundest pity. The work of a passion-seared heart, a fevered im- agination,- a weary, despairing, unbelieving woman, who had forced her brilliant intellect to work subject to the influence of intoxicants. And that was the work that Paul Taft read; kind, sorrowing, sinned against Paul. Read, and then he sought the woman whom he pitied as'intensely as he had once loved her. In a room, daintin luxurious in its appoint- ments, he found Mrs. Lindon—'pale and bag- gard, but weirdly, splendidly beautiful, despite her sunken cheeks, her dark—circled, despairing eyes, her defiant, cynically-smiling mouth. She reclined on a lounge in the midst of scar- let shadows. A table bearing luscious fruit and deep-hired liquor stood near, and on the secretaire at her side were scattered the imple- ments of her profession. She arose languidly to meet him; and he, standing before this wreck of the pure. delicate child who had plighted her troth to him. could find no words with which to greet her. She motioned him to a seat, and asked him in her careless, weary way if he would not congratu- late her upon her literary success. “ You will never have another chance,” she added. “Why not, Theda—Mrs. Lindon?” he ques- tioned, with a sickeningdr‘ead upon him. “ Mrs. Lindon, that is better; the other name links my life too vividly with the time when I floated on the smooth waters of un- awakened passions, untempted,innocent faiths: ;" then, suddenly recollecting herself: “ why? because I shall never write another book. I will not draw other young lives into the whirl- pool that is swallowing mine!” “ Then lead them up instead. With your genius you can do it.” “ Can If” she asked, bitterly. “ Look!” her slender finger pointed to the sparkling drink— “ there is my genius. ” Again and again, Paul Taft’s steps led him to Mrs. Lindon’s presence, in his great desire to save her from that slow, sure, debasing min which must surely result from the life she led. But death, sudden death, with him at her side, saved her from that. A sharp, quick spasm, and her quiet voice said. “ Paul, I am dying, I think.” Instantly he knelt by her chair; for one mo- ment the old love surging through his heart. Then it was lost in pity as she whispered: “Futurity, what is it like?” “It is eternity you are entering, Mrs. Lin- don. Will you not accept the redemption which can save, even now?” “ At this late hour? No! I must reap what I have sown—but I will not be a coward! Good-by,” she faltered, marvelously self‘con- quering to the last. And the whirlpool of so- cial, mental, physical and moral ruin closed over beautiful, brilliant Theda Lindon. THREE rams AND ONE. (From the German of Ruckert.) BY HENRI MONTCALH. Thou hast two ears and but one mouth: (Count them if you doubt it.) So shalt thou hear much, yet shall say Little about it. r Thou hast two eyes and but one mouth: Let it not grieve thee. any. Seeing many things, thou’lt silent be Concerning many. Thou best two hands and but one mouth: Yet learn the meaning of it. The two shall do the work—the one Shall eat the profit. The Right of Search. A STORY OF THE AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE. BY HENRI MONTCALM. THE events I am about to describe date back to a period twenty years ago, at which time I was but a newly-appointed midship— man—the youngster of the larboard steerage- mess of the U. S. ship of war Excellent, Cap— tain David Hodge. As they relate to the right of search as applied to slavers, those of my readers familiar with the subject will par- don a word of explanation inserted here for the benefit of those who are not. Slaving not being reckoned as piracy by the law of nations, no ship was permitted to search another, even though the latter were positive 1y known to be loaded with negroes, unless the two * vessels carried the same flag. Con- sequently, any slaver when pursued, if aware of her pursuer’s nationality, might run up a foreign flag and sail coblly away under its protection, her enemy being entirely power- less in the matter. This was the state of af- fairs from the treaty for the mutual suppres- sion of the African slave trade between Great Britain and the United States, in 1842, down to the treaty of 1862, which to some slight ex- tent, mended the matter. The Excellent had been cruising oif the Guinean coast, particularly about the region between Cape Three Points and the Bight of Benin, for upward of four months, now, and nothing to speak of had come of it. To be sure, we had all been asho nce or twice to call on the king Of Dah _ , the best mis- representative of royalty to be found on the western coast at that time, and he had dined us deliciously on shelled peanuts, and pledged our professional health in deep draughts of his villainous sego. But of our legitimate busi- ness in that part of the world we had done little or nothing. Nor was this exactly for lack of opportunity. We knew very well that the rascally old po- tentate was trading off his subjects at the rate of a thousand or so every two or three weeks. We would even lie there sometimes and see a slayer go to sea, knowing that her decks below were crowded with miserable negroes. But if we made a movement to pursue, up would go a Spanish or English flag, and all we could do was to let her severely alone. Once, indeed, we did circumvent one of them most beautifully. We had followed her up when she put out of the river until she showed Eng— lish colors, and then, as the breeze was light and the night a promising one, the old man or- dered out the barge and sent an officer up to Elmina, ten miles above us, to inform a Brit- ish sloop of war which we knew to be there. We hung to the slaver all night with the ship, and just at daybreak, sure enough, there was the Englishman making for her with all sail spread. When the fellow saw her, he thought to get out of it by running up a French flag, but at this—since change of flag is presumably evidence of fraud—we both pounced upon him and in half an hour had his crew in irons. But that wasn’t the story I started to tell. As I say, we were not always as fortunate as that, and after weeks and weeks of hot weath- er and no prizes, the whole ship’s co gan to grow desperate. I ' One evening, just before twilight came on— or what would be twilight if they had such a thing in those latitudes—we were standing idly along up toward Coast Castle, when a sail was reported asseen over the land, the vessel being just about to emerge from a small bay that makes in just there. Captain Hodge was on deck at the time, and himself addressed the masthead. “'Do you know her?” was his first inquiry. “ Can’t make her out just yet, sir, on ac— count of the hill,” answered the lookout. “ I should judge from the size of them tops’ils and the rake Of her masts that it is the big schoon- er we overhauled last week.” A moment after, and the captain hailed again. “ How is she now, my man?” “ ’Ti's the schooner, sir.” “ All right. Keep an eye on her,” and the captain went below a moment. Fifteen minutes after we were in full sight of the slaver, for slaver we knew her to"be. That low, black hull and rakish build could belong to no respectable craft, even if the pre- sence of such could be accounted for just there and then. “Now,” cries the old man, again making his appearance on deck, and as much interest- ed in the affair as was I, the most inexperi- enced youngster in the ship, “we’ll make her show her colors. If she don’t recognize us she may show a diflerent flag from what she did before. If so, she is ours. ” But the stranger was not to be caught in any such way as that. She did remember us perfectly well, probably had known precisely where we were every day for the last week, and when a gun was fired she ran up the Brit- ish flag asinnocently as could be. Shortly af- ter the sudden darkness of the tropics came on, the faltering sea-breeze died out-entirely. and night set in with the two vessels within half a mile of each other, and hardly likely to change their relative positions before morning. At daylight, quite contrary to his custom, the old man was on deck again and inquiring for the slaver. She was still in sight; but a slight land breezehad sprung up shortly before day broke, and “she was cautiously edging off to the westward. Although she might be per- fectly safe according to the law’s letter, she did not feel easy in our vicinity any more than a thief does in the company of a policeman. And so the captain remarked to the officer of the watch. “Mr. Bright,” said he, “the nigger don’t mean to stay by us long, even if we can‘t touch him.” The captain always called all slavers “niggers” without discrimination or difference. Mr. Bright was the second lieu- tenant, young for his rank, and a man who had won rapid promotion by his decision and in- trepidity. His answer was characteristic. “ And why can’t we touch him?” he asked, in a meaning sort of way. The captain seemed to understand him per- fectly well: but he shook his head gravely. “ It wouldn’t do, Mr. Bright, it wouldn’t do.” “ But nothing would ever come of it, sir. Suppose we should take the fellow with the English colors flying, do you really think any complaint would ever reach the English gov- ernment?” ' The captain still shook his head. “ I don’t know about that, Mr. Bright,” he said, “ but I don’t like to do it. The thing would be unprece- dented. It’s too bad, too, with the nigger right here in our hands and we not at liberty to take hold of him,” and he strode off toward his cabin. Yet the lieutenant’s idea seemed still to be working in his mind, for just as he was about to disappear he called out again, “Mr. Bright, you may as well shake out an extra rag or two and keep the scoundrel in sight.” Then he vanished down the stairs muttering something about his extreme curiosity to be- hold a cursed “nigger” who could get away from the Excellent when her blood was up. So we loitered along after the schooner with what little wind there was, and after break- fast we were surprised by an order coming in~ to the steerage, summoning all the commis« sioned officers, even of 10west rank, to the captain‘s cabin. We went aft in :a hurry and found all assembled around the cabin to.— ble, except Mr. Bright, who was still in charge of the deck. Captain Hodge stood at the head of the table. We waited for him to speak. 4 “Gentlemen,” he began, “please fill your glasses. And now here’s to the honor and success:of the old Excellent. ” We drank the toast with great enthusiasm. Then he went on: “ Gentlemen, it is too bad, it is outrageous, the way things are at present. Here have we been cruising up and down here all summer long and hardly a. prize to show for it. And now, here is another blamed nig- ger right before our face and eyes—we know his hold is full of slaves—we can almost see ’em, and if the wind would haul to west’rd a bit hang me if I don’t believe we could smell ’em—and yet, because the fellow has run up a British Jack we’ve got to lose him. Gentle- men, I repeat, it is outrageous!” We all asserted clamorously that it was monstrous. “ And semething ought to be done about it,” continued the old man, waxing warmer and more indignant. “Ordinarily, I can some— how manage to stand it, but this fellow has been dodging here for a Week with a rascally lie at his peak, and this time I’m not going to stand it. ” The captain paused and wiped his brow with his silk handkerchief. “ Now, gentlemen, ” he again went on, “ you all know it was rather duskish last night when we made the fellow show his colors. Are you all perfectly certain what flag it was he hoisted?” . We all kept silent with a puzzled air. “ That is to say,” he continued, “are you all perfectly certain it was the English flag? There was blue in it and red in it. Now, may there not have been White in it, too? In short, may it not have been the United States flag? ’ The captain said this with a queer kind of smile that suddenly betrayed to us his meaning. Probably he himself was the most scrupulous officer present—indeed, upon him must the whole responsibility rest. If he chose to run the risk it was hardly probable that any of us would hesitate, especially at what we con— sidered a perfectly justifiable piece of decep— tion. We had suffered enough already in consequence of this punctiliousness of the home government about the right of search. Up spoke little Bradford of South Carolina. “ I was in' the main top at the time, sir, and my eyesight is very good indeed. I could almost swear it was the stars and stripes she showed.” Several others of us made similar remarks in a jocular kind of way; but the captain inter- rupted us. “This is no joking matter, gentlemen. If we seize that schooner while she is under a British flag, we deliberately violate the law of any be- nations, and without doubt run the risk of a national dispute. Yet I intend to seize her— on one condition.” Here he paused and looked around the circle Of eager faces. “Please name it, sir,” said the first lieuten- ant, seriously. “That each Of you pledge me his honor that he wfll everywhere and under all circumstan ces, unless under oath, insist upon it that she showed the United States flag last night.” Every man of us immediately declared his willingness to promise this “ Mr. Hazleton,” said the captain to me, “will you ask Mr. Bright to step to the com- panion-way?” I went on deck and communicated to the second luff the captain’s request. As soon as he appeared, Captain Hodge called out to him, “Mr. Bright, are you sure the schooner showed the United States flag last night?” “The United States flag? Why, she— Oh! yes, I am quite sure.” “7 , “ Could you swear to Eff,ng L‘ I could do anything almost 'but swear to it. “ Very well, sir. Can you come down a moment? Gentlemen, let us once more drink to the honor of the old ship—and remember that that honor should be as dear to us as our own. And, now, Mr. Bright. let us overhaul the nigger as soon as possible. For by the Great Horn Spoon! we’ll have her now if she flies the flag of every nation in Christen— dom!” ‘ - All sail was immediately made on board the Excellent; and the slaver, seeing that something was up and that we evidently meant to overtake her, did her very best to prevent it. But as the captain had said, there were few slavers that could get away with the Ex- cellent when she was doing her best, and a light breeze abeam was her best point. Slowly but surely we overhauled her, and at noon were almost within hailing distance. The old man was on deck in person and chose to assume the trumpet and negotiate the whole business himself. He had a powerful voice and he used it as soon as there was the slight- est possibility of its being heard. “ Come into the wind,” he cried, “ or I’ll blow you out of water.” The stranger held straight on. He either did not or would not understand. But a round shot across his bow brought him to. As we drew nearer he called out in the best of En- glish: ‘2‘”By what right do you stop a Queen’s ves- sel. “ Go to the pit with your Queen’s vessel. You were a States’ vessel last night. Stand by till we send a. boat on board.” Two cutters were manned, and under charge .of Lieutenant Bright, dispatched to the schoon- er. Her papers were examined and her char- acter as an American vessel established posi- tively. She belonged in Charleston, and in— deed, Dick Bradford was quite ready to swear, after hearing this and seeing the captain, that he had seen the latter peddling slaves about the streets of that city many a time. The slaver’s crew were put in irons but left on board their own vessel. An unusually large prize crew was told off, and to our sun prise, Lieutenant Bright was put in charge of it. He was a favorite with the captain and we had expected the third or fourth lufiz‘ would go. But the truth was the captain was atrifle nervous about the affair after it was over with, and he was particular about the prize. Th» schooner’s captain had made a good deal of talk about the matter, swearing that the ves— sel was English and that his government would right the matter for him. Before Mr. Bright left us for the last time to go on board his new command the captain took him be10w and had a long talk with him. Then the two came up together, shook hands affectionately and Mr. Bright went over the side with a farewell nod to us all. Before night the schooner was out of sight to wind- ward. A year after, the Excellent having by that time been ordered home, I learned that Bright took the slaver in, all right, but reported that her officers and entire crew had, by some in- genious plan, escaped in the long boat before he got away from the African coast. Very little had been said about the matter, how- ever, at the navy department, and shortly afterward Bright had received his promotion. I thought that altogether the thing looked rather strange and I straightway elaborated a theory of my own about the matter. By Captain Hodge’s orders Bright had probably put the schooner’s company on shore before going to sea. The captain thought, I suppose, that they would be less likely to give any trouble about our “violation of the British flag” if left in Africa. And, as I believe, Bright took home with him from the captain letters to the Secretary of War (a personal friend of Captain Hodge’s) explaining the whole matter and recommending Bright for promotion. At any rate, he was promoted and we never heard anything more from the captain of the slaver. If you have a discharge from the nose, oflensive or otherwise, partial loss of the sense of smell, taste, or hearing, eyes watery or weak, feel dull and stupid or debilitated, pain or pressure in the head, take cold easily, you may rest assured that you have the Catarrh. Thousands annually, without manifesting half of the above symptoms, terminate in consumption, and end in the grave. N0 disease is so common, more deceptive, or less understood by ', hysicians. R. V. Pierce, M. D., of Buffalo, N. Y , Is the proprietor of Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy ——a. perfect Specific;for Catarrh, “ Cold in the Head.” or Catarrhal Headache. w" A few Advertisements will be 11mm on this page at the rate of fifty cents per line, nonpareil maturement. ,lee Tyll-Gate fiestas n ! Ad resswithstamp,B.C.A .Bufl 0.N.Y. 212—521.»! A WEEK to A ants, Old and Young, Male am Female in the r iocalég. Terms and OUTFI 'I‘ . r. 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Incomparahly the most beautiful and attractive se- ries of books, and the most delightful reading, ever presented to the popular reading public. DistancinE all rivalry. equal! in the beauty of the books and t eir intrinsic excel ence as romances, this new series has taken the lead in public favor, and they are regarded as the Paragon Novels ! No. 1—Hawse e Harry, the Young Trapper Ranger. By 011 comes. No. 2——Dead Shot; or, The White Vulture. By Al- bert W. Aiken. No. S—The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island By Edward S. Ellis. NO. é—Blue Dick: or, The Yellow Chief’s Venge- ance. By Capt. Mayne Reid. No. s—Nat Wolfe; or, The Gold Hunters. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. No. 6— The Whize Tracker; or The Panther of the Plains. By Edward s. Ellis. NO. T—The Outlaw’s Wife; or, The Valley Ranche. By‘ Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. NO. 8——T e Tall Trapper; or The Flower of the Blackfeet. By Albert . Aiken. No. 9—Lightning Jo, the Terror of the Santa Fe Trail. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. No. 10—The Island Pirate. A Tale of the Mississippi. By Captain Mayne Reid. . ll—The Boy Ranger; or, The Heiress of the Golden Horn. By 011 Coomes. . 12~Bess, the Trapper. A Tale of the Far South- west. By Edmard S. Ellis. . 18—The French Spy; or, The Fall of Montreal. B . J. Hamilton. No. 14—Long Shot; or, The Dwarf Guide. By Capt. Comatock. No. l5—T'ne Gunmaker of the Border; or, The Hunt- ed Maiden. By James L. Bowen. . 16-???) Hand ; or, The Channel Scourge. By A. . Iper. . 17—Ben, the Trapper; or, The Mountain Demon. By Ma'. LeWIs W. Carson. . 18—Wild even. the Ranger; or, The Missing Guide. By 011 Coomes. . 19—The Specter Chief; or, The Indian’s Revenge. By Seelin Robins. . 20—The B’ar-Killer; or, The Long Trail. By. Capt. Comstock. , fll-Wild Nat: or, The Cedar Swamp Brigade. By Wm. R. Eyster. . 22—1ndian Jo, the Guide. By Lewis W. Carson. . 23—Old Kent, the Ranger. By Edward S. Ellis. . 24—The One-E ed Trapper. y Capt. Comstock. . 25—Godbold, t e Spy. A Tale of Arnold’s Trea- son. By N. C. Iron. . 26—The Black Shi . By John S. Warner. . 27—‘Si1111g1e Eye, 1'. e Scourge. By Warren St. 0 n. . 28-Indian Jim. A Tale of the Minnesota Mas- sacre. By Edward S. Ellis. . 29—The Scout. By Warren St. John. . 30—Eag1e Eye. By W. J. Hamilton. . ill—The Mystic Canoe. ARomance of a Hun- dred Years A 0. By Edward S. Ellis. , 32—The Golden srpoon: or, Lost Among the Floes. By Roger Starbuck. . 33—The Scalp King; or. The Squaw Wife of the White Avenger. By Lieut. Ned Hunter. . 34—Old Lute, the Indian-fighter; or, The Den in the Hills. By Edward W. Archer. . 35—Raiubolt, the Ran er; or, The l’Erial Demon of the Mountain. y 0!! Coomes. . 86—The Boy Pioneer. By Edward S. Ellis. . 37—Carson, the Guide; or. The Perils of the Frontier. B§ Licut. J. H. Randol h. . 3i—The Heart star; or, The Prop st of the Hollow Hills. By Harry Hazard. . 39 ~Wctzel, the Scout; or, The Captive of the Wilderness. By Boynton Belkuap. M. D. . 40—The Huge Hunter; 01-, The Steam Man of the Prairies. By Edward S. Ellis. . 4i—Nat. the Tripper. By Paul Prescott. . 42-L.§ nx-cap; or, The Sioux Track. By Paul Bibbs. . 43—Thc White Outlaw; or, The Bandit Brigand. By Harry Hazard. . 44—The D02 Trailer. By Frederick Dewey. . 45#The Elk King, By Capt. Chas. Howard. . chi—Adrian, the Hot. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- ham. . 47—T he Man-hunter. By Marc 0. Rolfe. . 49—Thc Phantom Tracknr. ByFrederick Dewey. . 49—M0ccssin Bill. By Paul Bibbs. . 50—The Wolf Queen. By Captain Charles How- a-d . 51—g‘om Hawk, the Trailer. By Lewis Jay wilt. _ E'BEADLE’s DIME POCKET Novnns are for sale I by all nchdcaleI-s; or will he sent. post-paid, to any ! acdress, on receipt of price—run onN'rs EACH, by BEAD AMS Punmsnns. 98 William street, N Y.