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ENTERED AS Sncnxn Cmss MATTER AT THE NEW YORK. N. Y., POST OFFICE.

NI. J. IVICIKS & ('0.. l’ublisllers‘.
(JAMES SULLIVAN. I'Rormmnm,
379 ['0an fill-Pm. New Ynl‘k.

('Opvuxmn‘. 1883. HY Emmy. 8: ADAMS:
Ten Cents a Copy.
$1.00 a Year.

"071015- 

JULE, THE JEWESS; Or, The Miser

BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR, w

3!

Published Every
Month.

 

 

AUTHOR OF “ HUTII'S RIVAL,” “THE BROKEN LINK, ETC., ETC.

 

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“I All KNOWN AS mm, THE annss.

 

Al'h'l'ST,  I

f an'l‘x‘x'x‘"

ionaire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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2

JULE. THE JEWESS.

 

 

S:
“I did but ashumanit rom ted,” remarked leeshore. and if they did not soon stub upon
J  J Merton Wilbur, a slen egly-foli'med, flne—look- the r°°k3v “‘9 5mm" mu.“ 3° to ‘
s f in out}, of twenty_ In the midst of the excitement the ladies’
03, 3301p}, Hugo uttered no reply, but smile cabin, one rson seemed to haves. cool head
and keep nerves in perfect command, for he

THE MISER MILLIONAIRE.

A Story or Ill-Omened Lives.

BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR,
amon or “aurn’s mvan,” “m mom
LINK,” are, no.

A PROLOGUE' IN TWO SCENES.

SCENE FIRST.
m’ msULr.

“ OUT of the way, Jew l”

The words of the speaker were stem, the tone
was insolent, and the manner haughty in the
extreme, as he stood, gazing with burning eyes
into the face of the one he addressed, a young
man of gentlemanly bearingand dress, darkly-
bronzed, handsome features, and the unmis-
takable stamp of the Israelite restingupon them .

The two stood upon a narrow foot—bridge that
spanned a deep and swiftl -running stream, and
to pass, without both allin into the dark
waters beneath, would be a ' cult feat to ac-
complish.

The one who gave the haugh command was
the larger of the two, and con dent of his ath-
letic powers he was the t rant of the University
of which the Jew, as we as himself, were stu-
dents, and few dared bar his wa .

The son of a millionaire, pron of his lineage,
and knowing little restraint, he had looked With
contem t upon his comrades whom Fortune had
favo less and never before had deigned to
notice the Jewish youth who now faced him
upon the narrow bridge.

Upon either shore were several students
watching the result of the meeting, for the
stream ran through the grounds of the Uni-
versity, and the hours of leisure had come after
the day of study.

“Mr. eI‘llynde, I was first on the bridge, sir,
and call to you,” said the Jew, calmly.

“And did you expect me to heed your call,
Adol h Hugo!" was the sneer-ingresponse.

“ es, as a gentleman,” the ow remarked,
with firmness.

“Well, sir, whether you was first on the
bridge or not, on must now retrace your steps,”
came the hang ty demand.

“I do not fear you, Harold Lynde, and I will
not yield, unless your brute stren forces me
to do so,” and there was not the ow of fear
in the face of Adolph Hugo, although he must
have known the power and agility of his in-

sulter.

“ Then, by the Lucifer of Hades, into the
stream you go."

With the words came an unexpected and stun-
ning blow, and the Jew fell heavily into the
dark waters that closed over his form, shutting
21 from sight, for he made no eflort to save him-

 

 

A cryof horror broke from the students upon
either bank, and one wrung to his feet, from
the velvety upon which he was reclinin ,
book in ban , and. plunged into the stream, an
with bold stroke swam to the spot where Adolph
Hugo had gone down.

And With white but scornful stern face
Harold Lynde stood upon the bri his arms
folded across his broad breast, and his e es

laringldown into the waters rushing so emf" tly
1E8” 1mm. th sh th d ts tood,
agerynpon e ores estu en. s
watching the brave oung man who had one
to the rescue, and breathless silence ey
raited, as they saw him dive beneath the sur-
ace.

It seemed ages to these watchers ere he arose
and then, from a score of throats broke a glad
cry, as he reappeared, bearing in his arms the
form of Adolph Hugo.

A superb swimmer, though borne down by
the heav weight, he soon reached the shore,
and laid he unconscious Jew upon the grass,
taking various means to resuscitate him.

A dark bruise on the temple, and a cuton the
brow, told that the telling blow of the young
aristocrat had stunned him, and that his life
would have ended there, but for the noble act
of the student who had so bravely gone to his
aid; but at lastashiver went through theframoizi
the heart heaved violently, and the eyes open
wearily.

3.41:! I remember; Harold Lynde struck me,
‘n —

“ And llerton Wilbursaved you,” interrupted
me of the studentswhostood near. -

 

e ressive of a world of thanks crossed his face
an be held forth his hand and reaped that- of

‘ the one to whom he owedhisl 9.

“Ha! ha! a prett scene trul ; you are not
dead then,Jew,asI -feared ntif oucross
my path again as you did, there w be no
doubt about it,” and the dark, angry face of
Harold L nde peered upon the scene, while
Ado! h ugo said, with strange calmnem:

“ 0, Harold Lynde, I am not dead; but to
Merton Wilbur I owe my life.”

“A precious paigc’lpon honor' a Jew and a
cllliarity student uni in bonds of lasting friend-
s l .
"pHarold Lynde, no gentleman would ridicule
the poverty of the unfortunate,” and Merton
Wilbur faced the University tyrant, as the
young aristocrat was called, With fearless men
and flashing eyes. .

“What! do you too, wish to feel the wei ht
of my hand?” and the tyrant turned quic
upon the one he had termed a charity studen
who answered, quietly:

“ I do not fear you, sir.”

“So the Jew said, and I left my mark on

' I

“I warn you not to attempt to mark me,”
was the cool response, to the surprise, almost
consternation of the assembled students, who
knew well the great strength and ungovemable
temper of Harold Lynde.

The words of the charity student at once
proved like a match to a magazine, for, with a
or of rage, Hamid Lynde sprung upon Merton
W’ilbur, but instantly measured his length upon
the round, for a stunning blow had met him
full 5] the face.

Maddened, he arose, and again rushed upon
the calm, smilin youth, who had so skillfully
sent him to cart , and his attack was a second
time ferried, and once more he went down.

Bu again he arose and a third time felt the
weight of Merton Wilbur’s hand, and with an
effort staggered to his feet.

“ When you tire of the sport, Lynde, say so,
and I Will cease unishin you,” said Merton
Wilbur, in a tone at m 0 him a hero in the
eyes of the lookers-on.

“ I will have your life for th ” shouted the
maddened tyrant, and he drew a fe from his
breast, and wiping his bleeding face, again
sprunng the attapk, while a cry of horror
broke om the lips of the assembled students,
and Adolph Hug; started forward as if to in-
te e himself tween Lynde and the charity
stu ent.

“ Stand back, all!”

The ringing words out the air in a tone that
checked the forward advance of the studentf‘i
and the one who uttered them was upon Elm
L do with the spring of a tiger.

nstantl the knife was wrenched from the
hand that old it and cast aside, and then hot
and fast the blows rained upon the handsome
face and haughty head of Harold Lynda'untfl.
bleeding and senseless, he sunk upon the great,
while, turning to the Jew, with be same coo
manner he had shown throughout, Merton Wil-
b‘fié‘gd' “Elly: ' (5 week so I will

me, ugo, on “"0 ye i

give on m armyto your room, and 1AM"
satel tes look after him.

And from that day the patln of those three,
the Jew, his insulter and his defender, Wen.“ d1"
ferent we through life, for Horton Wflblul',
the poor cgdt student, will “Pelle’dfiéedo h
Eu 0 left the nlversity of his own “tum.
2:. Euro}: L d: to brave 0

me an ea ‘

But not one of the trio, so “1:35:13 WHEN

together forgot the day or the

'—

SCENE SECOND.
0‘ E l d

Irwaeastorm ni ht on the New 'ng an
coast, and a. smaH steamer was stliug’gnhnpg)
wind and wave, on or voyage to
grain; 8001412118 to her machinery having de-

er grea .
uddenly, as though to prove that troubles
never can t singly, there Was heard a loud crash
and once more the machinery was wrecked, an
the steamer received a. wave on board that
swe tits deck resistlessly.

A? once all was confusion for all knew that
the were at the mercy of the storm, and the
wild waters and fierce winds made the craft
tremble and creak in every timber, while know-
ing ones shook their heads ominously, for they
knew that the: were rapidly drifting upon a

 

went from one to the other of the fri htened
women and children, fastening aroun them
life-preservers and bidding them not give up

h .

or; length he stopped in front of a iyoun girl,
who had sunk down in an easy-cha r, and old
in her hand a small sachel of valuables she had
hastily taken from her trunks.

The eyes of the two met, and the young man,
for he looked scarcely more than twenty,
seemed to feel some strange thrill in his heart
ashe gazed down into the outhful, beautiful
face andheard her low wor s:

“bh,s1r! you areso kind to us all for I have
watched you; but, is there no hope?"

“ Oh gee, for the steamer seems quit» stanch
yet, an if we strike we can take to the boats;

ee up courage and hope for the best,” he said,
wit an assuring snnle, as be fastened a life-
preserver aroun her slender, graceful form,
and, with another look into her glorious eyes,
and a si h, turned away to cheer others near.

After im her eyes also followed, and there
was somethiufimin his manly, noble, though
beardless face t seemed to ascinate her, and

et a something she read there that brought

her lips too a sigh. .

And still on the steamer drifted with wave
and wind, rollin , pirtfhing, creaking so loud
that it sounded 1i e s ‘eks of des 'u‘, and now
and then strug ling so hard the. it seemed as
tho h she won d never rise from beneath the
wei t of waters hurled upon her.

A that men could do, her crew did, aided by
a few ngers: the anchors were let go, but:
the ca les , and nearer and nearer the
dark coast upon which the sea beat wrth ten-i-
flc roar, the vessel ted, and soon the end
must come, for either the waters would break
her in pieces, or she must strike.

The boats were gotten ready and manned
and then in awe and breathless silence a
awaited the end.

It soon came; first a sudden shock that threw
all down, then a mightier one, and a fearful
crash. and the end ha come.

The boats were useless, for they were torn
“say by the washing, sur 'ng waters, with
only a few strong men cling-Fa to them, and a
mass of humanity were strugg gfor life inthe
relentless sea.

Just as the shock came, the maiden befo
spoken of felt a strong arm en her waist,
and heard in a calm voice:

“Come, I will save you, if there is a chance
for life.” ,

She yielded herself to him, and out n n the
1003118111 he led her, where a small , made
of core and blinds, securely lashed together,
lh‘ad bien hastily constructed and made ready to

unc

But upon it were two burly seamen, getting
refdy to launch it, and thereby save them-
so ves.

“Hold! men, I made that raft and it will
hold but two; would to Heaven it would save
more ” cried the young man.

“ 0 cures not who made it; ther two it
saves will be us; out her loose, J ack,” answered

one.

“ Hold! leave that raft and take our
chances with the others, but this lady the be
saved if in my power to do so,” said the young
man, sternly, while the maiden old-3f
trembling, wondering how it would

hopia’g.
m; e will not give it up," said the other sea-
n.

“Oh, sir let me meet m fate and on go
with them: for it will hold three,”’she cried.
di“p’0, barely two; leave that raft or you

6 .

The last order rung out threateidngly and a

to
end, an

pistol was thrust forward in the hand of the .

speaker.
The two seem saw their danger, and like

maddened beasts driven from What they be-
lievsd might made their Own. they Sprung for“
ward to apple with the darmg nan who cou~
frontedt em. .

Then came, mingling with the bowling Wmde
and washing waters, two sharp “Dorm, and
the seamen fell heavily to the deck, and a.
vicious wave washed them into the sea.

“Come, the steamer is rapidly 80%? to
pieces,” cried the man who had taken e to
save life, and he placed this maiden on the gift,
secured her there y pass ug a rape aroun e;-
st and the next instant, the fastening; that
held t to the guard being. severed. they won

 

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ll
afloat on the 'Wild waters, which were dotted '

with human forms and the debris of the wreck,
and from which arose ‘shrieks for help, and cries
to God for mercy, appalling to the ears that
heard them.

Well made, though constructed amid such
den or, and in bastqthe little raft swept on
anti. it was pitched upon the beach; but the ‘
man was prepared for this, and having freed
the maiden from the rope that held her, seized
her in his arms, and, after a hard struggle,
reached a lace of safety where they Were met
by brave Sherman-of he coast, who were do-
‘ all in their powerto save life.
lmng to a humble fisher-cot he led 'her, and'
leaving her in charge of a kind-hearted woman,
went back to aid in the rescue, and, with others

the death-list, which at first seemed to swell so
large, was {decreased

The next day t e two, the brave youn man
and the maiden, stood together at a smal way
station, awaiting the train that was to bear
them homeward.

“You telegraphed your father, you say, that
you would be on immediately?” helasked.

“ Yes, I thought it best, and telegraphed
while you returned for my sachel.”

“ A telegram tor Miss Isabel Lynde; is she
‘here’i” called out the station a cut.

“ Yes, that is my name,”an the maiden took
the dispatch and read it quickly, while she said
aloud in a joyous tone:

“M father will meet me at the Junction,
sir. 3’

But she gazed into a face that was livid, and
asked anxiously:

“Are you ill, sir!”

“No; a momentary faintuees, Miss L do;
but may I ask if you are the den hter .0 Mr.
Andrew Lynde, the millionaire?” e smd in a
tone that was suppressed

“Yes sir " '

“ And the sister of Hamid Lyndei”

“ Yes; he is at the University, and I am just
returning home from boarding-school; do you
know my brother, sir?”

“ Yes, Miss Lyn‘de: but here comes the train,
and I must leave on.”

“Leave me! we', I thought that you were
going on to New ork with me!” she asked, in
disa inted mrprise.‘

“ o, I shall remain here yet awhile.”

“ But I have been so remiss, for I know not
even your name, and I owe to you my life; and
oh! on have been so brave, so noble, and so
kin to me, and we must be the best of
friends.”

She grasped his hand, and the tears came in
her beaut‘ ul eyes; but his answer sent a chill
to her heart:

“No, {you and I can never be friends, Miss
Lynde, or you are a Christian, I am a Jew. ”

She strove to reply, but the train had
stopped, the wrecked passen rs and crew of
the steamer were hurr ing a ard, and press-
ingher hand he turn away, muttering:

She, a alum“, 1, a Jew."

CHAPTER L
m mmonamn.

Smwnr the Swiss clock on the mantle tolled
the hour of twelve at ni ht, and out of their
sentinel-boxes came the wo toy buglers, and
blew their clear ringing notes, startling the
on] occupant of the room, who sprung to his
fee with an impatient exclamation, though
days and n bin for several years he had heard
the fanciful mepiece strike the hour.

It was a sumptuous room that he sat in,
Andrew L do, the millionaire, and though he
called it h “den,” it was a gilded one, for vel-
vet chairs lured to repose, innumerable books
filled the carved shelves, a soft carpet, of some
rare pattern, silenced the tread of the feet, and
all around was evidence of a fat purse to supply
a luxurious and refined taste.

And from basement to attic in the million-
aire’s grand mansion there could be seen the
same air of lux and ele ance, while his
grounds were an en of auty, and his
stables filled with blooded animals and elegant
equipages.

So circumstanced it was no wonder that men
envied Andrew L do his vast fortune; that
Isabel his beautif daughter of eighteen, was
the belle of her set, and songht by scores of ad-
mirers, and Hamid Lynde, just graduated from
college, and “finished” by a European tour,
handsome, superb in manner and dress, and the
heir to vast wealth, was considered the best
" catch ” of the town, by designing maters, and
sought after by the fast bloods of society.

And at, had “ the world" seen Andrew
Ia'nde. emillionaire. as he set that night in

\

 

 

his easy-chair, apparently 'asleep, but only too
wide awake, and gazed into his white, haggard
face, it would not have-envied him.

At the stroke of twelve he sprung to his feet,
and mechanically glancing at his gold watch,
he muttered:

“ It is the time Harold said he would be back

again with old Quilp— Hal there is the sound'

of his wheels now, ’and going to the window
he drew aside the silken curtains and glanced
without, while he continued:

“Yes, it is the boy, and Ezra Quilpis with
him; but they come in a hack, and not in
Harold’s buggy.”

Going to t e front door he opened it, and in
walked a rson whom the reader will remem‘

. her as a niversity student, that was a partici-
toiled through the long hours of the night, until ,

pant in a scene that was certame not an en-
viable one.

“Ah! Quilp, I am glad to see you; come in,
and excuse my sending for you, but it is im-
portant; give us a glass of wine, Harold," and
the millionaire motioned the visitor to a seat.

“ Mr. Quilp can help himself: I do not wear
livery yet, father,” was the haughty response
of the young man, who had improved in ap-
pearance, if not in manners, since his meeting
with Adolph Hugo, the Jew, two years before
at the University.

“ Oh, certainly; I am accustomed to wait on
myself,” said Ezra. Quilp, a small, wiry man,

in deep black, and wearing a white
cravat that gave him a clerical look.

His face was strong] marked, but the ruling

ssion of greed was t e strongest stamp upon
t, and a reader of human nature who die osed
his features would have pronounced im a
miser, and a man who made Gold his God, and
held no other aim in life but to heard it up.

Soul he had none; at least it did not shine
out from his face, which is the mirror of the
ul; heart he certainly knew of only as a
functiontokee life’s ndulum swin ng, and
mercy to a de tor he never been own to

0W.

With no family ties he lived alone in an old
brick house in the edge of the city, and which
was said to be haunted until he moved there.

“Well, Quilp, as Harold will not help us,
step up to the sideboard and help yourself'
there is sherry, and this is port, and if you need
11 uors they are in those decanters.”

uilp alwa sdrank a good laseof wine, at
the expense 0 any one else, an helped himself
generously, while the millionaire settled him-
self back in his chair, and Harold Lynde, with
a stern face, yet scornful smile leaned against
{he mantle with his arms folded across his
reast. ,

It was a strange trio, and stran thought

were flitting in the brain of each. so

CHAPTER II.
THE SACRIFICE.

“Now, Mr. L de, may I ask if you sent for
me to pa me he money due on your notes I
hold?” as ed Ezra 'Quilpaas he took a seat on
glee opposite side of the bio from the million-

“ On the contrary, Quilp, I need more money
from you ” said Andrew ynde, bluntly.

“ On what security?” was the quiet question.

“Look here, Quilp, I have been ii hting ofl
misfortune for three and ay’, when
Harold, the wild spen tbri that he is—

“ Spare comments on Harold Lynde, please,”
broke in the youth.

“ Well when he came to me for fifteen thou-
sand do are, to pay gamblin debts, l frankly
told him that I had lost heav y some time ago,
but had-aved my credit before the world, b

tting from you secretly, on my no secured:

y certain pro rtiee mentioned in t em, the
money I need to carry me along.

“Now those notes, as you know are due, and
I wish to renew them for six months, and get e
larger advance.”

“ On what securi l”

“ Why, man you old my notes for a million
and a half dollars and the ‘propert securing
them is worth treble that, an I coul have got-
ten from the bank nearly the value of it. ”

“ Why did you not?”

“I did not wish it known that I needed

 

money, and you pledged yourself never to

s k of it.
paaN or have I.”

“Well, renew the notes and give me more
money.”

“I have given you just fourteen hundred
thousand dollars; you owe me that sum and the
interest on it; what did you do with all that
money, Mr. Lynda?"

“ Lost the greater part of it in those accursed
railroad speculations. and Harold can account

 

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ifi—

for one-tenth of it in the past two years, while“
you know I am not economical.”

“You are all ver extravagant, and—” . A

“Hold on, Ezra ' p; if you value that little,
body of yours, you will make no comment:
upon my father or his family,” and stepping
quickly forward. Harold Lynde dropped his
hand upon the miser’s shoulder with a force that
made him cry out:

“ Oh, pardon me, sir, but I meant no wrong.”

“Guard your ton 0 then in future,” and
Harold returned to ' place by the mantle,
while his father said:

“Don’t be h , my son; Mr. Quilp spends
so little money himself that he cannot under-
stand how we can live as we do; now, Quilp,
renew those notes for me.”

“ You can ay the interest due!"
be“??? for I ve not ten thousand dollars in

n ’ ~

“ Then I cannot renew them."
“You must.”
H No. it
“ Would you ruin me!”
is Yes. n
“ Hal you are then plotting to destroy me!“
“Yes.’
“You frankly confess it?” said the astounded
millionaire, while Harold again stepped for-
ward with menacing gesture.
“ Do you remember, Andrew Lynde, when
we were boys together?”
“ Yes n

“ I was poor, you rich, and you won from me
the woman I loved.”

“I did not; she preferred me to you, or, if I
remember, you became engaged to her, and
then mysteriously left home,” said the million-
aire, nervously.

_“Y_es, I left home; but your money bought
hirehngs to kidnap me one day, and carry me
on board of a vessel bound to China.

“ It was more than a year before I returned,
ind dI found Grace Talbot your wife, Andrew

yn e.

“But I smiled sweetly, to hide my heart’s
bitter-hem; I made no sign that one of your
hirelings had told me of your treachery, and in
secret nursed my hatred and my reven e, and I
have’it now, for your notes 90 to protes to—mor-
row

In a uiet, sinister way Ezra Quilp, the miser,
had spo en, and both the millionaire and his son
had glared upon him, the one in horror, the
other in dumb amazement at the story he told.

The millionaire knew that the miser told the
truth; the son suspected that he did so, and
both felt that he held them in his power, and,
fin upon the face of the man before them,

y w to hope for mercy was useless.

A proud, overbearing man had Andrew Lynde
ever and his son was strangely like him.

Money ad been his power, and without it he
knew that he must grovel in the dust.

Speculation had trebled the fortune he had
inherited, and speculation, which he indulged
in with the same fascination that Harold Lynde
plaid cards, had led him to his ruin.

th almost would be preferable to min
and poverty, and yet the latter seemed to be
the only alternative, for the millionaire, in 'v-
ing his notes for ready money, feeling confl nt

.of redeeming them, and that no other eye

than Ezra Quilp’s would ever see them, had so
worded them, that if protested they would give
the miser full claim to all of his property.
“Well, Andrew, what have on to say?"
asked thesmili Quilp, asthe 'ouaire, livid,
silent and trem ling set before him, avoiding
the angry eyes of his son, who regarded him
as the estroyer of his future inheritance and

“ fore God! Quilp, I know not whattosay,”
groaned the millionaire.

“If Ipush youtothe wall you are fumed,”
suggested the miser.

‘Alasl too true."

“But you will have mercy; on will not go
to extremes; see, my father a gray-hai red
man,” and the tone of Hamid Lynde, for the
first time in his life, wagdpleeding.

“ Much you have car for your father’s gray

' Harold Lynda ” was the sharp retort.

“Clh, yes, hit hard, for you have the power
now

“ As your father and yourself have ever done
when you had the power; but, come, the night
wanes, what are on going to do about it,
Lynde, senior and unior?" _

“I have half a mind to end the matter by—"

“ What?" asked Quilp, as Harold made a step
“Walden m ' d mm bod I

‘ ng your e, an g our
out to the prowling dogs," was the 32m. soy

 

' ' ,. _ i .. ,.
’, Vial”. mar “mews.  3

joinder.

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4

JULE. THEflAqiavs/nss

 

 

 

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\.

 

But Ezra Quilp showed no sign of fear, but
Inilingly replied: '

“ As you please, Harold Lynde; your fortune
would go, a l the same.”

“ Hal you have let the notes go out of your
hands?” cried the millionaire, in alarm.

"No. I have them safe; but, in case of my
death, there is one who will know what to do.”

“Great God! Iain utterly undone, and ruin
has come upon me,” groaned the millionaire,
burying his face in his hands, while his son,
fwith white face and moody brow, paced to and

to.

With an exultant smile, Ezra Quin gazed
upon them, enjoying their misery for awhile;
then he said, calmly:

“There is a way out of your trouble, An-

ewx

“ In God’s name, tell me what it h,” cried the
millionaire, while his son stopped in his walk
and axed eadgrerly at the miser.

“ on, An ew Lynde, ridiculed me as a boy,
beat me, wronged me cruelly, and stole my in-
tended bride from me.

“Grace is in her
against her, but you,
now your master—”

“ Villain, how dare—”

“Hold on, Harold L do, I was not fool
enough to come into the ion’s den unarmed.”

The young man stepped back with a muttered
oath for there was that in the miser’s face that
told him he would use a weapon if need be.

“I was poor then, Andrew, you rich,” con-
tinued the miser; “I am rich now, and you

rave and I say no word
will make feel that I am

r.

“ Your son has pointed me out as a miser,
when he was a mere boy, and since he has grown
to manhood, he drove overme in the street, and
never stopped to see what harm was done.

“For months I lay up with a broken le , and
in all that time I nursed my revenge, an new
I have it, for, Andrew Lynde, Ezra Quin will
ruin ou, and drive you into the streets, unless
you 0 as ho requests.”

“ In _God's name tell me what that is?”

“I simply ask to make your daughter, Isabel,
my wife. ’

The millionaire sprung to his feet with a cry
of rage, and Harold Lynde again threatening] y
advanced upon the miser, but halted suddenly
as l‘lzra Quilp leveled a pistol at his heart:

Thus the three, for one instant, formed a
striking tableau, which then was broken by the
miser sa ring:

“ We] , you know my terms; give me your
daughter, and you receive back your notes, for
I give that large sum for her; refuse, and into
the streets you all go.”

_“ Never, so help me God! in tongue would
blister did I ask the sacrifice 0 her,” cried the
millionaire.

“ Then ay those notes tomorrow, or you are
bog ars a of on! Good-evening, gentlemen.”

“ old on, ease, Mr. Quilp.”

All starte , and turned to behold Isabel
Lynde standing before them, her opera-cloak
around her shoulders and in full evening dress,
for her escort had left her at the door buta
short while before.

Transcendently beautiful she looked, though
her face was ashen pale, and her lips quivered;
yet her v01ce was firm, as she said:

" Father, I meant not to listen, but I over-
heard, as I paed the door, that which forced
me to do so, and I know all. ,

“ Mr. .Quilp, you honor me, sir, by appraisin
me so highly, and in return I can but say that
Occe t our terms and will be our wife."

“ so. 1!” cried Harold Lyn e.

“ My child!” groaned the millionaire.

“No remonstrance, father; I'know that on,
and my brother Harold, love old as muc as
dees this man whom men call uilp the Miser.

“He has you in his power, your fortune in
his grasp, and I sell myself to him for the notes
he holds.”

“ You are a nico young lady, Miss Isabel, and
I thank you. .

“ The notes I return to you to-morrow at two
o’clock, when I shall call with a clergyman to
secretly unite us.

“ Then I take my leave, and in three months
shall return to claim in bride, and the world
need. not know of our ormer marriage, and
mtal thereby be avoided ”

“ You are kind, sir, ” said Isabel, with a sneer,
but she added quickly:

“ {shall be ready.’

“ iv ny not wait the three months, if it must
he?” eagerly cried the millionaire.

‘fNo, the notes are due to-morrow, and they
go into Miss Lynde’s hands with the end of, the
ceremony; remember, at two tomorrow 1 will
be here; Rood-night.” .

Ezra Quilp turned away and left the room,
and a moment after the hack in waiting at the
door was heard to roll rapid! away.

‘ Then Isabel Lynde tottere to a seat, and sink-

! ing into it cried:

! “ Father, mine is the sacrifice yours and

‘ Harold’s the gain, for gold is not my rod as it

i is yours; but the die is cast, and so let it be.”

 

CHAPTER III.
THE assassrn.

Bo anxious had Harold Lynde been, not to be
seen in company with Ezra Quilp, that he had
sent his own vehicle h ' me, and seeking the home
of the miser had taken him to Lynde Manor in
a ublic hack.

n this the miser had returned to a point
near his home, and there dismissing it, for the
first time in many years paying the fare with~
out trying to get it reduced, and grumbling
about it, had walked with rapid step through
the weed-overgrown grounds surrounding the
old brick mansion where he lived.

All was darkness in and around it, not even a
friendly light glimmering in the window to
welcome him home, for he was saving of oil; but
he let himself in with a ke he carried, crossed
ehe large ball, that gave ack a hollow echo
even to his cat-like tread, and ascended to the
floor above.

Asecond key let him into his rooms on the
left of the 11 per hall, and a lamp was soon
ti rhted, revea ing the miser’s quarters.

eager in furniture they certainly were, for

safe were all the articles visible, while through
the door, dividing the front and back means,
were an iron cot, a table, and a few cooking
utensils upon the hearth.

Placing the lamp upon the table, Ezra Quin
unlocked his safe, too out a roll of pa iers, and
seated himself in his uncomfortable c air, and
began to glance them over, while he mut-
tere :

“It seems a large sum to ay for her; but I
love her as I hate them, for s e was kind to me
when a little girl; and I will get’ all back, for
the old man speculates recklessly now, and the
young one gambles nightly, and they will come
to me for money, and again he beggars, and I
have Isabel and all, while I predict that Andrew
will kill himself, when his riches have fled, and
Harold will commit some crime that will make
him fly the countr , or go to prison.

“Ha! ha! ha! zra Quilp, you have pla ed
your cards well, and now hold a hand ful of
revengeful trumps.

“ Ha! ha! who suspects the old beggarly miser
to be worth millions, and the millionaire of
being a beggar?”

And thus the gold-loving, revenge—doting
man mused on aloud to himself, little reaming
that there was one on his track, than whom a
bloodhound was more merciful.

Up the vine -clad balcony that one had
climbed, and along the roof he had crept silently
as a cat would have done.

Then through the windows of the back room
he had peered, and the door between being
open he had seen the miser seated at his table.

With the skill of an expert cracksman, and
as noiselessly, he had slowly raised the window
and then stepped within and crept nearer and
nearer his victim, for the wind moaned with-
out, and rustling branches and vines a ainst
the balcony, drowned any su icious soun that
mi ht have reached the ear 0 Ezra Quilp, even
ha he not been deaf to everything while gloat.
inglover, his triumph.

earer and nearer crept the assassin, until
he crossed the threshold of the open door, and
then his hand was raised above his head for the
fatal stroke, and in it gleamed a naked blade.

But suddenly, instead of dealin the fatal
blow he uttered a startled cry an turnedwas
the knife dropped to the floor, fora hand had
grasped his arm from behind.

Springin to his feet, Ezra Quilp turned, a
mtol hasti y drawn from his breast, and seeing

midni ht visitor, cried:

“Haro d L ndel you. an assassin I”

But Harol Lynde made no reply, for his
eyes were fixed upon a form that stood in the
open door between the two rooms,_ and, unheed-
11g the remark of the miser, he cried:

‘ In Satan’s name! who are you?”

The answer came‘in a rich, musical voice, yet
decided:

“ I am one who has saved you from becoming
an assassin, for I followed you here.”

And upon the speaker the miser’s eyes also
turned, and he, too, cried:

 

“You. a woman, saved my life!”
“ Yes.”

a table with papers upon it, a chair and an iron »

 

——_

“Again I ask, who are you?” almost gasped
Harold Lynde, seemingly more impressed at
her presence, than that he had been thwarted
in his fell purpose.

In the same rich tones came the answer:

“ I am known as Jule, the Jet/Jess.”

CHAPTER IV.
JULE, THE JEW‘ESS.

FOB full a moment after the maiden had told
the miser and Harold Lynde who she was, the
two men stood gazing upon her.

Beautiful she certainly was; though scarcely
more than seventeen her form was rounded
into erfect womanhood, and the seal of her
race ad been but lightly stamped upon her ex-
quisite features so slightly, in fact, that few
would have be ieved that the blood of the
children of Israel coursed through her veins.

Her eyes seemed to possess the power of fas-
cination, for they held both the miser and the
young aristocrat as though under a spell, and,
as she stood with her superb form drawn proud-
1y up; her right hand, which had grasped Har-
o d ynde’s upraised arm, still extended her
snowyowhite dress clinging around her, an her
hair, unbound and hanging in jett masses to
her ankles, she was indee a su r creature,
one to love and one to fear, an the intended
assassin cowered before her gaze, for he felt-
that she seemed to read his thoughts.

At last the miser, who, whatever might be
his greed for gold and revenge-warped nature.
certainly possessed nerve, broke the silence.

“You say that you are known as Jule, the
Jewess?”

(I Yes.”

“Ah! it had escaped my memory; you are
one of the Jewish family to whom I let part of
my house to-day?"

OYes ,7

 

“ It was the most fortunate act of my life to
rent those rooms, for thereby I saved inv inc
and the aristocratic and elerrant Mr. Iiumlr
Lynde was saved from the gal ows, for murder
will out; but I thank you my beautiful child. for
the life on saved, and remember that Ezra
Quil ), miser and usurer, is your friend.”

“I care for no friendships, sir; all I love in
this world are within a few steps of me across
the hall, and little dreaming that I have pre—
ve‘pted a tragedy beneath this roof.

- But I was wakeful and sat by the open winv
dow of y room, and saw on come in; then I
sawaa orm skulking behind you, and next I
saw it upon the roof of the balcony, within a
few feet of me.

“I had heard that you kept gold here, and I
suspected the one who dogued our steps to be
a robber, not a murderer; but impulse made me
open my blind and step out on the roof and fol-
low him, and then I saw that his hand was
raised to kill,’and I grasped it. but I ex ected
not to findin an intended assassin Mr. arold
Lynde.”

The young girl had told her story frankly, in
her full, musical voice, but in her tone and
upon her lip, as she spoke the name of arold
Lynde, was an expression of scorn at the act he
had intended to perpetrate, and seeing it, he
said \guickly:

“l hat! you know me, then!”

(S  ”

“B Heaven! I knew that we had met be-
fore ut when or where I cannot now recall.”

“ it matters not when or where, sir; we part
now, and forever,” she said, liaughtily, and
turning to the miser she continued:

“ Do you wish me to further serve you by go-
ing for an ofiicer to deliver your intended mur-
derer and robber over to?”

Harold Lynde, crushed by the discovery of
his act, stood like one dazed at her words, and,
as the miser still held h l pistol read for use,
and at heart he had a cowardly fear 0 death, he
turned a piteous, pleading glance upon him to
await his reply.

In a calm, thoughtful way it came:

“No thank you, I will not trouble you, and
more, I will beg that you let this affair remain
a secret between us, for I will relieve Mr.
Lynde of one charge you make against him—-
that of robbery, though I may be wrong in do

in so.

g".l‘o kill me he came here, and, for fear of
accidents, I will tell you why, young lady.”

“No! no! no! I beg of you, Quiip”—hegan
Hail-101d Lynde, but the miser broke in sternly
wit :

“ Silence! You have no right to ask mercy
of me,” and again tm‘ning to Jule, the Jo wean
as she had called herself, he continued:

“Ihold the property of Andrew Lynde the

A millionaire. in my hands: but to morrow ro-

l
l
l

4
n
-«
A,

 

s... Ana“- vvsnm_’___fl say.)

 

 

J NA

JULE, THE JEWESS.

5

 

lease him of his indebtedness to me by secrer
mar ing his daughter Isabel.

“ Row, young lady, I beg that you will keep
Shh secret too, unless harm befall me before two
o’clock to-morrow, and then you will know wh
Ezra gull met with his death, and that this
man, Lynda, whom I now set free, was

I“Ear '
neatly the oung man turned his gaze
upon the beautifu Jewess; but she said coldly:

“ Not being interested in Mr. Lynde and his
“airs, the secret may remain a secret if so you
wish it; good-night.”

Without another word she turned and swept
into the back room, and gazing after her, they
beheld her gather her sweeping skirts around
her ste through the 10w Window out upon the
mo of he balcony and disappear.

Then the eyes of the two men met, and, with
his sinister smile, the miser said:

“Mr. L nde, it isnearly dawn, and I seldom
keep late ours.”

“ Show me out of your accursed old rookery,
and I will gladly leave it,” was the savage re-

ply. ,

“ Doubtless; but I am no liveried servant to
show you out, sir; ou found your way in,
leave as you came, 1i 9 a thief in the night.”

“hEz,i,-a Quilp, you shall one day rue this
nig t.

“ Those who are threatened, my dear Harold,
are long-lived; but go, and tell your father how
your murderous little lot to kill me, and, as I
now believe, to at ho d of the notes, and there
by save your ches and your sister from be—
coming m wife, was thwarted by a young girl,
who calls erself Jule, the J ewess.”

“ Oh, if I but dared,” hissed the young man,
clinching his fist.

“ But you don’t for I am a dead shot my only
extravagance being the waste of pow er in is-
tol practice; and besides, there is a man wit in
call for one belon s to the Jewish family across
the hallway, and, f the 'Jewess possesses such
courage as you tonight saw, the Jew might
prgrerg gnore than a match for you if my aim

a .

“Curse you, Ezra Quilpi but I swear to on
that one day we will stand on an even foot ng.
and then you will sue in vain to me for mercy.”

“ You do not act with Christian spirit, Harold,
for I spare on, when I could send you to prison‘
but 0, for wish to be alone.”

“ t me leave by the door.”

“I will not; go as you came, and before the
daylight comes to show passers—by the elegant
Mr. arold L nde, clambering down from the
balcony of r Quilp’s rookery.”

“ One word: do you think hat that J eweas
will betray me?”

‘6  1”

“’Why do you believe in her word not to do

i’

“ Instinct teaches me to place trust in her; if
she does, I can swear that it is not true, that
you came to my room by invitation, on a busi-
ness matter, and that will settle it for I care
not to have my intended brother-in-law sent to
prison; now go 1”

With a muttered oath, and words, the pur-

rt of which the miser did not catch, Harold

ynde turned and crossed the room to the open
window.

Stepping out upon the roof, he beheld a white
form not ten feet distant at another window,
and knew that the eye of Jule the J ewess was
upon him. .

“You and I shall meet again, fair Jule,” he
laid aloud, and swinging himself over the roof
he ropped to the ground, and crossin the
Weed-grOWn yard rung upon his saddie- orse
1n waitin and dragged away like the wmd, his
brain ant? heart on fire with the emotions. that
overwhelmed him at the thwarting and discov-
ery of his heinous plot to kill the miser and save
the honor and riches of his family.

mCHAPTER V.
mama’s mums.

“Tan Jewish family” as Ezra Quin had
called them, had mov into their new war-
ters, fortunately, as it proved for their and-
lord, the very morning previous to the eventful

ht described in the foregoing cha tors.
aiming man had called the day fore and
ask if e would rent the upper half of his
house, which, with the wing on that side, con-
sisted of four rooms, and. as a fair price was
oflered, the miser had readily consented, for,
never before had he found any one willing to
live 'in the place, the dread of its being “ haunt-
:g ” having deterred many a tenant from going

ere.

.Suietly the Jew had had the mom: cleaned,
u auietlymoved in. and the miner heina

 

V

 

‘ ..  my,“ vs . “$.43:

absent, ahd engrossed with the day being the
eve of the maturity of Andrew Lynde’s notes,
and his revenge, he had even forgotten the ex-
istence of others than himselfin the old man-
sion, that night.

Into that other part of the “haunted house.”
as the superstitious dwellers in the neighbor-
hood called it, I would hava my reader accom-
gmy me at an early hour the morning following

arold Lynde’s attack upon the miser, and the
savin of his life by Jule, the J ewess.

Alt ough but new-comers, the five rooms,
consisting of three bed-chambers, a dining
room an kitchen combined, and a parlor or
sitting-room, were y comfortable in ap-
pearance, and the scent of a savory breakfast
pervaded the apartment.

In the kitchen at a stove, an elderly woman,
to judge from her face, although her hair was
yet jet black and her eyes as bright as dia-
monds, was cooking breakfast, while the heroine
of the night before Jule, the Jewess, was set-
ting a table for hree persons, and, in her
canary-colored morning wrapper looked as fresh

as a rose.

In the adjoining room, seated at the window,
and idl gazing over the housetops of the city
in the d stance, for the mansion stood alone on
the river’s bank, sat a man whose exact age it
would be hard to tell, as a full beard, falling
upon his breast, concealed the greater part of
his face.

A handsome man he certainly was, 33d with
acertain noble dignity resting upon his brow
that gave him a look that was stern and caused
him to appear some ten years older than he
really was.

Compactly built. and well formed, dressed in
the hight of fashion, and yet with simple ele-
gance, so to express it, he presented the ap-
pearance of a gentleman of refinement, which
did not belie him, as Jule, the Jewess, entered
and he arose and greeted her pleasantly.

A Jew he certainly was, and one to command
res and win confidence.

‘ Well, fair Jule, how did you rest in your
new quarters last night?” he asked, pleasantly,
speaking in the Hebrew tongue.

“Not well, I fear, for I was disturbed,” she
answered, in her frank way.

“Surely the ghosts they told us dwelt here
did not disturb you,” he said, with a smile.

“Oh no; but prevented a ghost from being
made; but new I cannot say more as mamma
will be in. After breakfast I will speak with
you, if you will ask me to join 'you in a walk to
the river bank.”

Impressed by her manner, for he saw that she
had something to communicate. he returned:

“Assuredly, and with pleasure, for we have
a fine view of the river from yonder point,”
and he again bent his gaze out of the wmdow,
as the el erly woman also a Jewess, called to
the maiden to set the breakfast upon the table.

It was a pleasant little repast, and Ezra
Quilp’s tenants seemed to enjoy it in their new
home for the old woman remarked:

“ Victor, I like this lace.”

“I am glad of it, other Naomi though I
wish you would let me lace you in the elegant
home you deserve, an have servants to wait
upon you.” '

“No, Victor; I care not for the splendor of
the past: I gave u wealth to marry a poor

man, and when he led he left me and my child'

in poverty, and I care not to receive better at
our hands though I know your willing heart;
ut when I am gone, then you and Jule can
en'oy our riches.”

t t e reference to herself the maiden col-
ored, but the man never changed countenance,
as he responded, calmly:

. “ As you please. If you prefer this humble
life to one more fitting you and Jule so be it; on
our Sabbath I will run up to see you, but the
rest of the week my duties will keep me in the
city. Come Jule, let me show you a pretty
river scene, for ere long I must away.”

The maiden glanced toward her mother for
sanction which was ven, and the man and the
maiden descended t e creaking stairs and left
the mansion together, wending their way
through the wee overgrown grounds tow
the river-bank.

“Victor, do you know the Lyndesi”

The two had halted beneath a tree upon the
bank of the river, and almost abru tly the
maiden had asked the question, for e man

started.
“Yes,- I know who they are,” he replied,

quie‘géy.

“ ell, I have a secret to tell you, and I do so
for your 0d. only do not act in the matter un-
to. it be for your benefit. and if not. amm-

\
‘i
‘.

    

,,....ss\z;xytgtwsi§‘mr Hgmifiwqit; £17 < V L,

 

190 me 1you will 'not betray what I tell you,"
8’

said Ju earn ly.
“ Any nest on ask of me Jule ladl '
willI :32" y ' ’ g y

“ It 3 said, you know that our race not only
from motives of gain, Victor, but that alone
does not rom t me to tell you the secret I in-
tend to, t oug I knowdyou can greatly enrich
yogfself thereby, shoul the Lyndes go to the
we . ~

“ Ah! it is of them you would speak, thenf'
he asked, with interest.

“ Yes; I know that Mr. Lynda, though a mil-
lionaire on per, is really bankrupt, for he has
mortgaged is property in tote.”

“What! can this be true, Jule?” asked her
companion, in surprise.

“ t is true, Victor, and to-day is the last day
of e to pay his indebtedness.”

he man started, for the news seemed to in-
terest him strangely: but he said with a calm-
ness that was evidently forced:

“I am listening, J ule.”

“His pro erty IS valued, I know, at between
three and our millions, and yet the one who
has a claim upon it all holds it on but a million
and a half paid out, and I thought that you
could perhaps bu that indebtedness from the
holder, and then, f the Lyndes could not pay
in a given reasonable time, you would make the
profit.” ‘

“ Why, Jule. what a Lusiness woman you
are! But, is this your 0111 motive in sceiiin
to get me to aid the Lyn es?” and he look
her squarely in the face. - ;

Thle look caused her to flush, but she answered
Y 1 '

“It is not!”

“ You have another motive, then! Will you
tell it me ?” v

“ Certainly!” she answered, in a low voice.

“I am listening,” and he bent his dark,
searching e es, in which dwelt a world of fas-
cination, fu l lfimn her.

“ I went to adam Cardoza’s boarding-school
in‘IBIositon’, you may remember?”

0

“There I met Isabel Lynda, the daughter of
the millionaire.”

“ Ahi and she snubbed you for being one of a v
1peroscribed race, and insulted you,” he said, bit-

r .

“Elie did not,”wnrmly nded the maiden.

“ Oh i” he ejaculated, but it meant much.

“ 0n the contrary, she sought me out because
others shunned me, and nobly acted as my
stench friend.”

“ She was a brave girl.”

“ Indeed she was Victor, and a true friend to
mofihryugh all, and she is as beautiful as she is
no e.

“ And wherein is your motiVe in wishing me
to poms her wealth i”

‘ If her father, by speculation, and her bro-
ther by his fast life, swamp their fortune, then,
{fin possessing it, can keep Isabel from ever

owing want.”

“True, I could do so; but is this your only
motive, Jule i” v

H No ”

“ You have another!"

“ Yes,” she answered, with a blush.

“ Can I know it?” ‘

“ Yes. You remember when my father died

we were in great vertvi”
“Yes, I remem r it,” he said, guietly.
“Well, Victor, I had now an then met a

young man in my walks, who sought my ac-
quaintance but I repulsed his advances.”

“ When father la ill, innumerable little deli-
cacies were sent him, and many kindnesses
shown anon ousl , that I afterward learned
came from t e ent eman I speak of, and whom
I now know to ve been Harold L nde.”

“Jule, that man is a villain, and e sou ht to
insnare on as a hunter would a bird,’ said
Victor oloch, with sudden flerceness of man-
ner ilz‘lliat surprised the maiden, for she answered

lllc :
:O“’I’ gannot believe him sovile as that, Vio-

r.

“ He is so vile, Jule; but, for that trap-set-
ting for an innocent girl, which you called
kindness, you would have me care for him, 32
when his fortune has been squandered?”
again the bitterness of tone and manner to-
turn the

ed‘to man. -

“ I would not see him want, Victor.”

“There we differ, for I would see Harold
Lynda wanti Jule—ay, grovel in the dust of
beggary, an never stretch forth hand to give
him a crumb to stop the wi
adropofwaterto n his _ . ,

He suddenly choc ed his violent manner. fa,

of’hunger, a

    

a .;r:»r. 

  

 

6

was. "rigs JEWESS.

 

 

he saw that What! startled the maiden greatly,
and uickl continued in a changed tone:

“ ule, i I could serve you in this matter I
would act, but it will take a large sum to get
command of the mort es you speak .
being due to-day, and fear I could not get it
in so short a time.” ‘ .

“ Wh , I thought you were worth milhonsl”

“An so I am; but to raise a million and a
half in money in so short a time, needs the
wealth of a. Croesus ” he said, With a smile.

“ You would douhle your advance should the
Lyndes fail to pay l” she asked. .

“ Yes, in all probability I should.” *’ ’

“ And gain a large interest if they did payl”

“ Assuredly.”

“ Then why not you take the mortg esl”

“ I cannot, for would have to ma e large
sacrifices to get the money required.”

“ I am so sorry.”

“I pledge you Miss Lynde shall not sufler,
for you can aid her,” he said, seeing that she
seemed deeply distressed.

“.But she will suffer, Victor.”

“ How

“ I have another motive.”

“Ah! a woman always keeps her hottest shot
for a reserve flre,”he said, with a smile, and
yet with considerable interest.

“ The man who holds the mortgages will give
than; £113, upon conditions.”

i

“ Yes' if Isabel Lynde will sacrifice herself to
become is wife!”

Victor Moloch turned suddenly pale, and said
in a hoarse whisper:

“ And she refuses?”

“ To save her father and brother, for I know
she cares not for herself, she offers herself for
the sacrifice!”

“ And the man turns over the mortgages to
her father 3”

“ So I understand it.”

“A case of barter and sale,” he said, with a

.5-'.

sneer

“ Yes, nothin more.”

“ Then why 8 ould there be any trouble or
anxiety on your part, Jule?” he asked, almost
impatiently!

‘ ' You remember the man of whom you rented
our rooms?”

“ Yes, the miser 331% he is called.”

“ He is the man t olds the claim uponthe
Lyndes,” she said impressivelfl, and, as though
struck a severe blow, Victor oloch staggered
hack crying fiercely:

“jule, tins must not, shall not be.”

CHAPTER VI.
m we PLAYS norm non.

Tm: sudden excited manner of Victor Mo-
loch, at her words, seemed to almost frighten
Jule, the J ewess, and she stood, pale and trem-
bling, gazing at him for an explanation, for
what she b said to so move him, she was at a
loss to discover.

At last the man, with a violent effort of self-
eontrol, subdued his emotion, and said escalme
as he could:

“And that is the man that holds Lynde the
millionaire in his weri”

“Yes, Victor; ust to think of beautiful and
noblenlsabel Lynde, sacrificing herself to that
ma

n.

“It is fearful to think of. Jule; he is treble
her a e, and his god is so thoroughly gold, men
my. t at he is dead to any other thought and
{leeling than accumulatinlg it; but if is stmrige

e iswillin tops so arge a p ce even or
Isabel Lvn e.” y

" Well she is willin , as I know.”

“ And how do on ow, Jule?”

The maiden co cred, and remaining silent the
man asked with sudden suspicion:

“ Jule, have you seen Harold Lynde lately!”

Her face now turned crimson, and still she re»
mained silent, while, his suspicions aroused the
more by her confusion he said sterniy:

“ Answer me!”

“Yes.”

“When!”

“Last night.”

“ Where

“ At Quilp’s house.’

“ Tell me more.”

' “He came there to visit the miser, and I
overheard what was said,” she replied, annoyed
at having to revaricate.

Victor Mo och still locked her in the eyes;
live: :30 methisgaseunflinchingly and she con-

u :

“You remember I told you that I was dis-

hzbed last night!”

i “Welhmlwindowhhuthfewfeetfromthe

ofas?

 

window in the mlser’s room, and sleepless, I sat
up late looking out upon the starlit river and
then it was that Harold Lynde visited 'Ezra
Quil , and I overheard all that passed.”

“ be God of Abraham forgivo me, Jule' but,-
fora moment, one single little moment, 1‘ held
doubt of you. ’

She drew herself proudly up, her eyes flam-

' ing, and answa

red 118.11%“ y.
You forget, Victor oloch, that I am Jule
Naomi, a J ewess.”
“I did for et, Jule, and I crave forgivene'
but tell me, 0 those mortgages mature to-day
“Yes, and today Quilp is to secretly marry
Isabel Lynde, as security for the mortgages
until their engagement can be made known an
a public ceremony follow: so I understand it.”
‘By the God of Israel! but I will take his
worthless life ere such sacrilege shall be done "
came the fierce words of the man, now deadly

pale.

“ No, Victor; his death would but bring ruin
upon the Lyndes, and an ignominious death to
£2131 ;,gold must be the weapon used, not steel or

“ True, Jule, I was momentarily erased by
the thought; now I am calm and will act.”

“ You will buy up the mortgages then!” she
said,Yin joyous tones.

H es.”

“ Alas! I fear he may refuse to sell, for I
overheard enou h to know that he acts from re-
ven 9 against t e Lyndes.”

“ at he must sell them,” was the impatient
rejoinder.

“His greed of gold must make him do so.”

“It shall, if I have to double the amount,”
was the vehement reply.

“ But you then me losing, Victor, if the
progerty should not bring that much.”

“ care not; Isabel Lynde must be saved;
now Jule, a thought flashes upon me.”

“Well, Victor?” .
“You are good at disguises, as I have reaso
to know from your pranks upon many of your

friends.”

u Yes."

“ Do you object to playing banker’s clerk for
a while?”

‘I A b0 r,

“ Yea”,

“ Not if I can serve you and Isabel L do.”

“Well, youcan; go to the house, wh' I start
at once (townitOWt‘n, artid ask ygur mpther t3 let
you 0 s op u go some t i or me.

“ fiust I eceENe her, Victori’Pz'

“ Not exactly, for you can purchase some ar~
ticles for me ' and then come at once to the Cit
Hotel and I, will meet on there with a be
messen er’s disguise, an you can return and
see old §uilp in it.”

H We '17

“ Make an offer to buy for cash all claims he
holds against Mr. Lynde.”

“ If he refuses to sell, Victor!”

“ Go u in our ofl'er until he accepts.”

“ To w at. imit‘i”

“ Double the amount, if neoe ."

“ I will do as you wish, Victor.”

“ And I will, while you are interviewing
Quilp raise the moneyin gold checks, at any
sacrifice, and have it ready to pay him.”

Su used at the sudden earnestness of Victor
Moloc , Jule, the Jewess, hastened homeward,
while he went to hire a hack to drive him at once
into the heart of the city.

Successful in his search for a vehicle he
sprung into it, drove to the she of one of his
own race, a dealer in second- and clothing,
made the requisite purchases, and an hour after
while he was hastening about the town, getting
securities turned into cash, Jule, in her disguise,
which, with wig and false mustache, was most
complete, was approaching the miser’s home.

Her mother sat at the window sewing, and

lanced at the supposed messenger, little dream-

g who it was the clothes‘concealed. and seeing
him coming, Ezra Quilp opened the door for
him, and d, hastily:

“ Oh! you have come to redeem that note of
Hasbrouck & Bailey’s?"

“ N 0, Mr. Quilp, have come to see you user
an important matter. sir, involving consi er-
able ” was the reply, in a changed voice.

“ Then come nto my oflice,” replied Esra
Qt ilp, his omce being the room in which no’
tnva°elve hours before he had so nearly lost his

“.Now, sir our business!” and although it
was his wedd ng—da Esra Quilp was keen on
the scent to make a ew dollars if possible.

“You” hold claim upon the Lynde estate, I
heliev

“Who the devil said». air!" cried the mist.

 

__

completely thrown off his guard by the sudden-
ness of the ueetion.

“I am no at libertyto divulge names, Mr.
Suilp, only to ofler to you cash for all

aims you have . Andrew Lynde
and his estate.”

“ Ah! suppose then I tell you that it is a hun-
dred thousand dollars?” and the miser spoke
with a sneer.

“ I will take it up, sir.”

“ You will, will you; andif it is half a mil-
lion young man?”

“I will take the claims up, sir.”

“ The devil you will 1”

“Yes, sir.”

Ezra Quilp was nonplused; how the secret
got out he did not know, nor could he think,
unless Andrew Lynde had suddenly found some
friend willing to advance the money to save
Isa I

be .

If such was the case the memenger would
know the amount certainly, and this he made
an effort to find out, and asked:

“Are you ready to pay a million dollars,
sir?”

“Ah! What amount are you ready to pay,
sir?” tried the miser again.

“ The amount of the claims you hold with all
interests due. ”

“ Even a million and a half, young man!”

“Even that sum, Mr. uilp.

“ You have the money? ’

“It shall be in your hands within the hour."

“ Suppose I say two millions, sir!”

“ It is the same, sir. ”

“ Well, the claims I hold ' against Andrew
Lynde and his estate, young man, amount with
interest to about a million and a half but I
swear to you that two million dollars in old
will not take them up,” and a wicked foot
rested on the miser’s face.

“I have heard that you pinched hard when
you got a chance, Miser Quilp,”was the blunt
remark, for the supposed messenger was dis-
gusted at the meanness of the man.

“ Yes, I do pinch hard on a cent, or a dollar,
or a million; the eagle frequently shneks be-
neath my gripe,” was the sinister remark.

“Yes, and human kind too, I’ll wager; but
I’ll 've you two millions for the claims.”

“ on will not.”

“That means you refuse the large sum ta
wh‘at ampunm to far less?”

“ I will add a hundred thousand more."

“ And I refuse.”

‘ ‘ Call it a quarter of a million, sir.”

“Whythis anxietyto get this claim, young
man?”

“The roperty of Mr. Lynde is worth more
than I 0 er. ’

“ That I well know; but why are you, or the
ones you represent, so desirous of getting the
claims?”

“ Sell them to me at two million and a quar-
ter and I will tell you.”

“I will not. ”

“ Call it a quarter more!"

“ No, young man.”

“ Then name your price," impatiently mid
the messenger.

“ I have no price,” was the cool reply.

“ I’ll double the amount of the claims."

“It is no use.”

“ You mean you will not sell!”

H es 3’ .

“ You e Mr. Lynde to pay you more!”

“ Yes,” and a gleam so devilish came into the
miser’s eyes, that the messen er said quickly,
rememberin what Victor oloch 'had re-
marked: “ uy them, Jule, at an pricez”

“ Name your price, miser Quilp.

“I decline to sell sir; 0 back and tell those
you represent that zra uil is satisfied with
the claim as it is, and that e prefers to keep
the aper to selling it at any sum.

“ -day, oung man.’ '

Disappoin beyond expremion, and bitterly
hating the miser in her heart, for she now new
that is hatred was greater than his greed of
gain, Jule, the J ewess, degarted from the old
mansion, and rapidly sou t the t where eh.
had left the back that h driven er there.

“ Drive your beet driver, and you shall have
double fare,” she said, as she leaned beck u
the seat, so disappointed that great tears we

up in her eyes. ‘

Encouraged 2y the promised reward, the
ooachman rattl along, to the dismay of pedes-
trians, until hewas brought toe sudden hell.
and a stern voice said: -

“I hold y’pur man for reckle- and rapid

driving, our.
It was a blue-coated guardian of the citv’e

“I am, Mr. Quilp,” was the confident reply. .1

 

 

 

 

l
l

 

' nothing rash,

 

m.

JULE, THE JEWESS.

7

 

a:
peace that. looked in at the window and his fa'cn
was 110‘? Wlth linker, for the driver had attempt-
ed to dash by.

“Ofllcer,” promptly said Jule, “you will not
detain me, I bag, when 1 say it is a case of life
and death.” ‘

The policeman would have detained the
Vehicle, and the driver, too, had he not. seen _a
double X on the ' bank-note thrust into his
palm; but, seeing t ' his  was moved
with compassion, and e said in sympathetic
tones that became well an American citizen:

“Oh sur, it’s a case 0’ life an’ dith, is it!
Then liarney O’Toole is not ther man ter stop

ez from oing ter see yer poor mither die.
rive on fohnny, and don’t be either sparing

' ther cracker.”

“Johnny,” as he called the John, waited for
no second command, but with a muttered oath
-—for his knowledge of human nature discov-

. ered to his mind’s eye the true inwardness of

the release—laid the whip on, and dashed off
at still greater s than before, and soon
halted at the hate where Jule was to meet Vic-
tor Moloch.

Eagerly he advanced to the carriage, and

“I have three million; is it more?”

“ He refuses to sell at any sum.”

“ God of Israel! did on tempt him well”

“Yes, Victor, but do not believe ten mil-
lion would tempt him, and r Isabel is lost,
for it is now eleven o’clock,’ answered Jule, the
Jewess, sadl . .

Im tient y Victor Moloch looked at his
wet? , andé‘e lied: to be t

‘ ousai tesecretmarriagewas a
twpgclopk, I believe?”

“ Three hours in which to save her from that
man, and, by the God of Abraham and the blood
of our race, I will do it.”

“ What would on do, Victor?” asked the
maiden, alarmed y his livid face and stem
manner.

“Nothing rash, Jule; what I do, I shall do
with my eyes 0 n, and with perfect calmness,
but I will save or from Quin the miser.”

“You would notkill him, ictorl” she asked,
in a hoarse whisper.

“ Oh no! I shall not touch him,” he responded,
with a strange smile; then he added, quietly:

“Now you 0 up to your room in the hotel,
change our 0 othes, and go out the ladies’ en-
trance, eaving this suit in the sachel for me to
look after.

“Then get a cab and drive on the avenue
and  some purchases for me, and return

ome.

“ When will I see you, Victor?”

“I will tr and see you tomorrow, perhaps
to—ni ht, J u e.”

“ ery' well; do nothing rash. Victor, for in a
moment one often does that which ages of re-
gret cannot repair, and the tears of angels will
not blot out.”

“ Why, Jule how serious you are, I will do

I pledge you; good-by,’ and those
two

“ es, I will save her, I will save her from
Ezra Quilp the miser,”came stem] from the
lips of Victor Moloch as he walk along, his
face bent downward, and his whole bearing
that of aman who had resolved upon the exe-
cution of some daring, perhaps desperate deed.

CHAPTER VII.

in menu VISITOR AT LYNDE MANOR.
TH! same elegant clock, which hadstartled
Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, from his moody
reveries at midni ht, just twelve hours before,
again chimed fort its clear strokes as the hands
pointed to twelve, and out of their sentry-
oxes came the mimic buglers to blow their
bugle blast. _
he millionaire was in the room, and upon his
face rested a look of jo and pain commmgled,

if such an antithesis is 'ble. .

He felt joy to know that he was safe; selfish

 

. joy to feel that he would not go before the

world branded as a bankrupt; but he held for
his beautiful daughter a most devoted attach-
:eget,t:nd 1313'” had to feel twat1 hers wa;
esa ceor gain,and egam' 0
he}: i)?! 31ml? an else, r
were any one an one else
he muttered. y
“Then would I feel at leastcontent; but to
sacrifice her to that mamEst-a Quilp,andto
feel that he acts only with a feeling of revenge,
is hard indeed to bear.

“Isabel, with her bean face and accom-
ghmems, coum marry the best in the land;

than she seem tom ornoons.andit

\

 

may therefore be easier for her to make the sac-

08.

“ She understands too, that if she does not
marry Quilp I am ruined, and of course she
loves luxury and ease as well as I do, and re-
fers to bind herself to that wretch, rather t an
give up riches.”

And thus he excused his act, his own selfish-
ness in a measure by throwing the deed part]
upon Isabel, though in his inmost heart he fe t
that she was the one who acted unseflflshly.

“A gentleman to see you, sir,” said a servant,
entering, and breaking in upon his meditations.
“ Ah! is it Mr. Quilp?” he asked, anxiously.

“ I do not know Mr. Quilp, sir.”

“ True, true; what is his name?”

“He gave none, sir; only said he wished to
see you 11 Jon a matter of great importance, and
he seemed hurried sir.”

“Show him in, fiichard,” said the millionaire,
and the servant disappeared, to return in a mo-
ment and usher into the room a man of dis-
tinguished appearance, but—a Jew.

‘ Mr. Lynde, I believe I have the honor of ad-
dressing?” he said, with the courteous ease of
the ertect gentleman.

“ y name is L nde, sir, and you are—”

“ Mr. Victor oloch, sir, and I have called
on you upon a matter of importance.”

‘ I am glad to meet you, sir; be seated,
please,” said the millionaire, politely, for be

ad heard the name of Victor Moloch before,
and knew him to be a man reputed to possess
great wealth, though a. late comer to the city.

“ Now, sir, how can I serve you?” asked the
millionaire, as Victor Moloch sunk into a seat,
and looked upon Andrew Lynde with an anxi-
ous expression upon his fine face.

“ I have come to serve you, sir, for I need no
aid,” was the abrupt repl of the visitor.

Andrew Lynde’s hang manner under or.
dinary circumstances, we have broken out
violently at this proffer of;services- but the last
few hours had greatly humbled him, and he
said in response:

“ May I ask sir, how you can serve mo?”

“ I believe that at two o’clock to-da there is
to be a most interesting ceremony per ormed in
your house?”

Andrew Lynde started and his face grew a
shade aler, while he sai :

“ I ow not how any ceremonies in my
house, sir, interest you.”

“ Deeply, as Miss L ads is to names herself
to one who is even 01 or than her own father
find ,a gold-greedy miser every way unworthy of

or

“ Ha! where did you learn this?”

“It matters not, sir, I know the fact.”

“Has that accursed miser already broken
faith and spread the rumor over the oity l”

“ N 0 he has not betrayed you, sir; but I
know 0 circumstance, the sale that is to take

lace, for you intend to sell Miss Lynde to Ezra
'10 for a million and a half dollars.”

“You are insolent, sir, to dare say I would
sell my daughter,” said the millionaire, with
an er.

§Call it sacrifice, then, Mr. Lynde, if you
prefer the term,” was the cool reply.

“Well, sir, if m daughter desiresto marry
Mr. Quilp, with W cm I am interested in busi-
ness how are you concerned?”

“beepl , for I would save her from such a
sacrifice.’

“ You! do you know my child!”

_ “ I have seen her, sir, and that is sufficient to
interest one in her, ’ was the evasive re 1y.

“I would feel obliged if you wo state
clearly, sir, why on have come here?”

Q ‘fl'l‘onsave Miss ynde from being sacrificed to

m .

“ a! and you can save her!” eagerly asked
the millionaire. .,

“Yes, from Quilp.”

“Ah! here comes my son; are you alone?”
and Mr. Lynde turned to Harold, who just then
entered the room, his face pale, his eyes sunken,
and his brow cloudy.

“ You are alone, then? I feared that accurud
miser had already come— Ah I”

The last ejaculation was at beholding the
long-bearded, handsome Jew seated in the chair
the other side of the table.

“This is Mr. Victor Moloch, my son,” said
the millionaire, by way of introduction.

Harold Lynde bowed haughtily, but there
was somethin in the dark, iercing eyes turned

n him the. made him eel uneasy, in spite
0 his sang id manner that he at once as-
sumed, and said impatientl almost:

“Have we not met somew before Hr.
Moloch, for your face has a familiar loom"

“ We Jews are all alike. you know. It.

 

 

——==

Harold Lynde, as you may have observed if
you have studied the Jewish physiognomy
closel ,” was the calm response.

“ I ave never given the subject thought, as I
have had no dealings with your race, .
Moloch, and knew not that my father was
forced to do so, until I found you here,” was
the insolent r use.

“ Well, Mr. ynde, if your father is willing
for you to know it, you may as well under-
stand that I am here to aid him out of the
Slough of Despond which his foolish speculations
and your rookies gamblin have led’him into.”

Both the millionaire an his son were dum-
founded by this cool assertion of their faults
from an utter stran er; but the father knew
that the visitor was a ready in poesemion of his
compact with Ezra Quilp, and quickl checked
the an retort that was arising to t e lips of
Harol ynde.

“Hold, my son; Mr. Moloch is right, for it
has been the fault of both you and me that I am
now on the ver e of ruin, or rather wholly am
I to blame for owing you to squander money
as you have.”

‘ Ah! you consider then this Jew the proper
person to tell you of your faults?” savored
Harold, his violent passion held in check by the
entreating look of his father.

“ 1 consider this gentleman right, Harold,
and, as he has come to serve me, and to save
your sister from that villain, Quilp, 1 now beg
that he make known fully his intentions, as we
have but little time.”

“ Hal the Jew knows all?” cried Harold.

“ I do, sir,” was the smiling reply.

fl “Who told you, sir?” was the insolent ques
on.
“ That I decline to make known: but I will
say that if you wish the disgraceful bargain you
were to’gnter into—”
if!

“ I repeat, Mr. Harold Lynde, the disgraceful
bargain yourself and father were to enter into,
to save yourselves at the sacrifice of Min
Lynde, to remain a secret you had better bar-
ter with me, and thus re ieve yourself of the
miser; otherwise, good-afternoon, gentlemen,”
and Victor Moloch turned as though to depart;
but uickly both Hamid and his father do.
taine him, while the former cried:

“ Wait and we will hearéyour terms, Jew."

Victor Moloch bowed, an resuming his seat
gazed with a smiling face upon the two men
whom he knew he held wholly at his mercy.

CHAPTER VIII.
ms: manner BIDDER.

“Ma. HAROLD Lrnnn, let me sa to you
now sir, that in callin me Jew to insult me

on it wide of the mar , for I am a Jew, and

am as proud of the title as you are of that of
Christian, and have far better right to it than
you to that you hear so illy before the world.”

Harold Lynde fretted under this little piece
of advice, with which Victor Moloch reopened
the conversation, but another pleading look
frotrin his father kept him silent, and the latter
sai :

“ Now, Mr. Moloch, we will talk business, it
you lease.”

“ hat is what I came for, sir; (you e t
Ezra Quilp at two o’clock, as I un erstan it,
to‘niagi-y’, by secret ceremony, your daughter?

‘ 0.

“He holds notes of yOfiYS, so securegya's’te
serve as mortg es upon a our prope

“In the devil‘gs name how earned you this!”
cried Harold Lynde, with pale face.

“If I err, sir, please set me right; these
notes, Mr. Lynde, with interest, amount to a
million and a half?” ‘

“ They do.”

“ Your estate is far more valuable!"

“  ’1

“ At what figure do you set it!”

“Five million, sir.”

“Ah! then we will say it is really worth
three millions, and yet the Jew gets it today, if
you break your bargain with him, for half that
sum

H ’7

“Heis not the man youde desire for a
son-in-lawl”

" Great God! have you seen him!”

“ I ’have; there is nothing against his chas-

“ He is a miser, sir.”

“ And you a speculator, Mr. Lynda," was the
calm assertion.

“ He is an old man."

“ And so are on, Mr. Lynde.”

“Wewill argue,sir,butdiv b m
res.” said the millionaire. impatien . .

 

 

 

 

    

8

V ly‘sflfigi V; V  1...,2 «7   ,.-,

JULE. “THEMJEWESS.

 

 

 

 

“Very well; Mr. Quilp, when bound by mar-
riagero your daughter, is to give to you your
notes?” I l

H  H l

“Suppose I offerto take up these notes for

011?" ‘ ‘

Both father and son started with delightful :
anticipation, and the former said, eagerly: '

“It on would only do so, I will pay you, on

notes give you at six months, fifteen per cent. yea
7 ‘ 1

interest.

“ I ask no interest, sir.”

“ Indeed! you are then most generous.”

“Wait are you praise my generosity; with
your notes in our hand again you are free to
mortgage wha property you desire, to get any
money you may need?”

The millionaire’s face flushed, and after an
instant of hesitation he asked:

“Will an lend me money on a secret mort-
gage, sir ’

‘ Why secretl”

“ I have my reasons, Mr. Moloch.”

“No, I can lend you no money on a secret

mortgage.” .

“ hen I may as well tell {on that I can only
secure you by my note, wit specified proper-
ties engined thgrein.” 1 rt ?’ .

not, regu ar mo age

“ The’truth ii, Mr. Moloch, I am so bound by
my partnership in business that I forfeit to my
, tner, as he does to me,- every dollar I own,

either gives a mortgage. -

“I have drawn from the firm all the read
cash I dared, and then ve my notes to Quilp. ’
. "‘ And they are wort less?”

“ How mean you, sir?” indignantly asked the
millionaire. '

“ Your prior contract with your partner first
holds good, for your personal property is all
forfeited to him, so that you can save MISS
Lynde from this miser.” .

“ No, no, nol I would then be hable, as you
know,” and my partner would take every-
tbin .

“ s it not better to even be poor than to have
Ilsa Lynda so sacrificed?" asked the Jew, scorn-

tullgh ‘

» “ e consen sir,” saidHarold.

“ Yes, to savg’your father and yourself, Mr.
Harold Lynda; but then, Mr. Lynde, you pre-
fer totake these notes up!” V

“ y all mean sir.”

“ And are will ng to pay?”

“You Ent'said you asked no interest, sir,”
falter-ed t e millionaire. V

“ True, but I make a claim upon you for what
I do.” smiled Victor Moloch.

3 has” Quil «1

cos vance you an money
r the amount by the notes!” a
, ‘ He does not.” , _ '
- .“But you need money!"
\“Indeed, I do need ready/cash.”
l“ And your son cannot lend you any!"
‘ “ Baht he is now begging for a tow thousands
3 pay gambling debts o honor, as he calls
em ,

“ To what amount?” and the Jew turned to
Harold, who hesitatingly answered, with an
cycldance of his father’s eye:

“Twenty-‘flvethousand. ’

The handsome brows of the Jew were arched
in surprise, but he said quietly:

“ You are a bee player, r. Harold Lynd‘e,
and, I may add, an eavy loser, too. Now, Mr.
eggs, senior, how much ready cash do ydu

2” V
a “ Upon what terms, sir!"
‘ . “First name the sum.”
, " “Wellfl have some debts I 'wish paid, and
5 game little speculations 1 wish to enter upon,
.besidgs abandsome present to my daughter Isar

,, “ And I must ve Isabel a wedding present,
too,” quickly said-‘Harold. ‘ .
“You‘forget, my Son, that Isabel is not to
 ,if We arrange with Mr. ,”sug.
' the millionaire, blandly.
' ‘9 , father, and it accused to have escaped
, .-_‘ youignind, too, for your wordscaused me to

' ~ “Well Mr.   into our
(Madam, ,the amount of the bags, fltty ghou-
‘ ‘ id yndp, and how ‘

i-‘

 

egg-clam agate“ erg. '  ’ '
, 8 m on. ‘ V ‘
m” r  said

. Mfr be.  1“

 

   

“ A quarter of a million to ,you, fifty thousand

. more to Mr. Harold Lynde—

“ Call it a hundred thousand to me. for I
wish to get my yacht fitted out for a cruise.”
Without any change of countenance, the Jew
said:
“ Your father is the one to say .sir.”
“Very well let the boy have the sum, but it
shall go the last he gets from me for two
rs. '
“This will bring it so near two million, gen-

‘ tlemen suppose I say that sum lOI‘ youto re-
1 deem t e notes with, and have a balance for
' yourselves?” '

The eyes of the millionaire and his son glit-
tered with delight- but almost simultaneously
their facescloude , for through their brains
flashed one thought:

“What is the reward for all this munifi-
canoe?”

“Very well, make it two million, and I will
draw up the notes to you for that sum,” said
the millionaire.

“ I ask no notes, sir.”

“What! do you advance this sum to me
without security!” asked the surprised mer-
chant.

“ No, I ask security.”

“ Name it.”

“ The same that you were to give to Qm'lp,
the miser.” '

 

CHAPTERIX.
'rnn nncxsrox.

AT the calm, unimpassioned face of Victor
Moloch both the millionaire and his son gazed
with almost consternation in their own, when
they heard his daring proposition.

“ Great God! do you mean this?" cried the
millionaire, first gaining speech, as he saw that
the, taco of his son was growing black with
an or.

‘ Why not?” was the cool reply.

' “ But you are a J ew,” cried Andrew Lynde.

“ And on a Ch fistian,” sneered Victor
hifaoloch, With an emphasis upon the word Chris-
t n. ‘

“ The diflerence is great.”

’pdmit it, my Christian friend, but I waive

“ Eon do what!” burst from the lips of Harold

6.

XPWalve your being a Christian.”

“By the Lord. abovel but I’ve a mind to
break'every bone in your Israelite body,” and
the young man made a threatening ste toward
the Jew, whose calm words checked m, as he
said in distinct tones: '

. “B the devil whom you have better right
to c u n, I advise you not to make the at-
tem t, rold Lynda. ’

" y son, this quarreling is silly, and not to
the point; surely you cannot be in earnest,
sir,” said the elder Lynda, turning to the Jew.

“Surely I am, sir. ’

“ But J ews and Christians never wed.”

“ Oh yes, it has been done.”

“ I cannot consent to it, sir.”

“Yet you are willing to sacrifice her upon
Quil , the miser.” v =

“ e is a Christian at least.” i

“ He is built in the form of his Creator, or at
lTeast alter the mold of mankind,” enacted the

ew.

“ But my child would never consent.” , .

“ Ask, her; if she refuse I have nothing more

v.

“ Harold, call our sister.”

“No, I’ll not end hand to such asacriflce.
It was bad enough with old Quilp,” he said,
bitterly. ' '

“But you forget the generous terms of Mr.
Moloch.’ '

Harold seemed to have forgotten than: for an
instant for he said quickly: -

“ If the sacrifice must be made, the amount is
not enough. ” ‘

“You forget, Mr. Harold Lynda, that our
sister is the object cl! barter in this case; I ave

‘made my offer, and it rests with her to so

whether she shall be sold for that sum. Wi l
on call'vh’er, or shall I retire and leave the field

“Hegvlllpa more.” ‘

“ Not when e holds 1your father in his power
and "acts from a fee oz of revenge against

me '\ ‘

“True, Harold, Mr. Moloch speaks truly,”

lputinthehther.

“Ma 1 ask what motive prompts you!”
moor nuts: 9. x ' ‘ ‘
    lipvegtm

I

, Jew,” said '

 

“ You love my sister?" was the contemptuous
replv.
“I do, sir,” came the manly and frank re-

use.

spaAhl I would not be the one to break up a
love-match.” retorted Harold, with a bitter
lau th, as he moved t0ward the door.

“ 'or to break off a money ed transaction,”
veneered the Jew, and the young man closed the
door behind him with a bang, to drown the ears-
casm he had begun to fear. .

Entering his sister’s room. Harold Lynda
found her pacing the room with nervous tread,
and her face. he noticed, was very pale, and her
lips firm set. She looked up nervously at his
entrance, and said uickly:

“ Has he come, aroldl”

“ Not old Quilp, but another; we have made

better terms for you, Bel, so come to the altar
of sacrifice,” he said, bitterly. 4

“What mean you, Harold?” she asked, be-
coming white as a cor se.

“ Oh, don’t get frig toned; it is but a case of
sixot one an half a dozen of the other, with
more generosity and nose, and less age against
the miser.”

“Harold, I ask you again what you mean?”
she said, peremptorily.

“ Come and see, Bel, for there is a higher bid-
der for your hand in the library, and I guess
we’ll have to knock you down to him.” and
with a bitter laugh he turned away, while she
slowly followed him.

As she swept into the library, looking grandly
beautiful in her black silk, and wearing no
color or ornament, not even a ring, Victor Moe
loch and her father arose, and the lormer bent
low before her, as the millionaire said:

“Isabel, my daughter, this is Mr. Victor Moo ‘

loch, a Jewis gentleman.”

The maiden cast a searching glance into the
handsome face and at the distingué appearance
of the man and bowed, while her lips gave a

sigh of relief. . .

“I thou ht ou had met my sister before,”
said Harol w 0 had followed her closely into
the room. ' v t

“ I believe that Miss Lynda fails to remember
our mes ing with me before,” was the evasive
reply of ictcr Moloch.

‘ think we have never met before, sir,” she
answe . with a quick glance at the visitor.

“ 0h, its a case of afhni on your
love you spoke of, -Moloc ,” snee Hero}
while the Jew, nunoticing the words, an
really pit ' the tremblin old fathey, who
seemed unabe to find wo s to break tohio
daughter what'he had to say, turned to the
maiden, and said in his clear, pleasant tones:

“ Miss Lynde, learning that our father and
brother were to sacrifice you, t L-ugh I believe
with yourconsent, to save them from the pit of
ruin. info which the reckless speculations of the
one and the dissipation and » bling of the
other had led them, I came a made a higher
offer for your hand than Quilp would give,
hopln . in time, to win the heart that went
with t ehand.”

“Am I to understand that you ofler, Mr.
Melons, ifI ca ht the name flight-r"

“ Yes, Isabel, . Victor Moloch, the Wealthy
Jewish banker, of whom you have heard,” in-
terposed Mr. Lynde, eagerly.

‘ Mr. Moloch,‘I am to understand, than, that
ou make the nuns 0 er for my hand th t Mr.
zra Quil does?” an Isabel Lynda spoke in d

low but istinct tone. ‘ ,
“I offer your father, Miss ‘Lynde, the sum to
redeem his notes and cheat half a million dol—
over in read money.” .
. fitzles sis, ewisthe highest bidder,” sug-
o .

“Ibelieve it is the highest bidder that gets
the code?” asked Isabel, calmly..

“ es. Miss Lynde.”

~ “Then Mr. Moloch if it is my consent that '
d ttle busines transaction, I‘

is wante in this ll
(reel give it, to save my father from ruin,"
was s frank reply. I .

“ You are to marry the Jew, you know, Bel,”
said Harold. » _ , . ‘ ‘
Q“; 1IanoIng so I escape an alliance with Ezra

1 c

“ es, but he is Q'Christian: thisrperson 3
Harold, hoping that the maiden
would decide in favor of Ezra Quilp, for he
knew he could force what money he needed out
of his» father, by mating hint-again tan-ow
iromthsmlser, andheoorodnotto one block-

to an Israelitlo‘.1 '

“ I have decided, Hare when does Mfr. dio—
namékn

light-km them
“Miss L

x

"i 

(".33
'.-

      

rt, the ‘

ynd;    I     ,-
J summon _ ” was the "DIV.

 

LKn‘...

 

Lij .c

 

 

h

'A’handed

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JULE, THE JEWESS.

9

 

 

“ And the guarantee that you ask, sir!"

“ Your word only, Miss Lynde.”

“You are generous, sir and I freely give it; i
one month from to-day i will be ready to be
your bride,” and the tone was firm and the
eyes raised unflinchineg to his face.

“ This being settled, Mr. Lynda, allow me to
pay into your hands the money; here, sir, are

0 d drafts for the amount specified, two mil-

ion dollars' please receipt for-them," and Vic~
tor Moloch laid the checks upon the. table, while
the millionaire, with eager, trembling fingers,
wrote a receipt in full.

“Now, Miss Lynda, I leave on until to-day
one month, when I shall call in ke you my
wife, brin ' g with me a rabbi o my syna-
gogue, Whl 6 your father can ask to be present
the clergy man of our church, so that the cere—
mony may be ormed by both rites; as it is
near the time 'or the arrival of Mr. Ezra Quilp
I will say adieu.”

He bowed low, turned and left the room. r

A moment after the vehicle that brought him
there rolled away, just as a second carriage
drew up before the marble stairs and out of it
sprung Ezra Quilp with the  of a youn
man, and an expression of n ish triump
upon his face.

 

CHAPTER X.
I nor THAT was rawanrnn.

WHEN Ezra Quilp entered the residence of
the millionaire, he was not alone, for he was ac—
companied by a clergyman, whom he had en-
gaged to perform the Ceremony asking him to
keep the afiair a secret for the present, and
pressing his request with a banknote of denomi-
nation suficiently‘large to. insure silence on the
part of the minister.

The two were ushered into the library, by the
servant in attendance, and there they were met
by Mr. Lynda, who was seated at his desk, wrib
in r, and his son, who lolled in an easy-chair.

‘Ahi Mr. Ezra Quilp, I believe; sit down,
sir,” said the millionaire, without rising.

“Yes, 811', and I am on time you see: just
half-past 0118,81!" and this is my friend, the
Reverend Silas glean, whose chapel is in the
outskirts of our city, an" Mr. Sloan, Mr. Lynde,
and hi8 son, Mr. Harold Lynda.”

The millionaire bowed to the minister with-
out seem lns proflered hand, and Harold met
the intr uction with an impertinent stare.

“You have the notes with you, Mr. Quilp?”
said the elder I’lynde, abruptly.

“I have, air. '

“Me. I  our clerical friend to retire to
theptgorw ewetransactour little business

togm rl’v’.
gmlg looked , but said quick] :

“As r. loan’s ser ces are necessary in t e
transaction. I cannot understand why he should
have-the room, Er. Lynde; he knows why I
have brought him with me.”

“ Very well, sir, do as you please; be can serve
as a witness in the transaction. ” .

“ And, as the officiating clergyman, Mr.

SIPIdam glad to know that Mr. Sloan has a
ch e in the vineyard of the Lord,”sneered
Euro 6». from his luxurious easy~chair; but, un-
beeding his remark, his father asked:

“ Have you those notes?"

.. “I have sir.”

“ Be ’ enough to let mesee them.’

Ezra llp took out his pocket-book. and mo-
fnlly laid a dozen different notes upon the table
be one the millionaire,wa 000k . pencil“
paper and began to carefully add u the
amounts, computing the interest on , and
Iddins it tethe total, the minor eagerly watch-
in him the while. ‘

ting his right hand rest on thenotes,he
suddenly drew from his pocket an envelope and

t than may, . ‘ ~calmly:
“ Mr. “HP W see if iheee are correct!”
‘ hile%sra baggy“

- safari opsnedtheenvelo
the millionaire calm to’ok up the notes 33
heldthsmia his hand 51ml . .
 certified goldychecks, MLLynde.”
, es. » - '
“Well, sir!" asked thamiser, in " ice.
“For what amount do the call, . Qull l"
Hastily the miser ran eyes over {he
amountsjand said: ,
 “ For one million and a half dollars.”
' »“ Correct, and I owe you just fourteen hand.

‘  , :._ red and ninety-seven themand dollars and sixty—

“W'Ymstizzfal an ice ‘

. “ , bored em r.~ w “
' "Tl:'nhegood’anohghtohandmethetwo
thousandmlnshundrsdandninety-nhudollau,

‘ .

    

 

-evenmorethan

“ That is the amount due me, I belieVe, Mr.
Ezra Quilp, as you hold one million and a half
in our hands; here are the figures,”andthe
millionaire shoved the paper toward him.

“ Curse your figures, Andrew Lynde; that is
not our agreement,” shrieked the miser, turn-
ing as white as his parched skin could become.

‘ It seems to me, sir,” was the cool reply,
“that when a man holds m notes for a certain
amount, and I pa him at sum on the da
they become due, t at that cancels the matter. ’

“ Not with me, Andrew Lynde, and. I demand
my notes back again,” almost shrieked Ezra

uil .

Q “ gardon me, they are my notes, sir.” «

“ But they were given to me, sir.”

“ To a certain time, yes; but I have paid you
their face in money.” '

“ I refuse to take your occurred money.”

“ You must. ”

“ But on must give me go ”

“You vs it there.”

“ Checks; they may be worthless.”

“ They are certified by the banks upon which
“hi.” “"5: z - a 1 ed as.

“ e may or men, an or oer
cations,yAndrew Lynda” g

The millionaire turned 1e, and Harold
Lynda started, at this new p ase put on the af-
fair, and the miser noticed both the chan ' g
of color of the one and the start of the 0 er,
and followed u his vantage with:

“ Yes, and I lieve they are forgeries, air, so
give me back my notes.”

“ Mr. Quilp, my business honor is too well
known, sir, for me to be suspected of passing
forged paper,” steme said the millionaire.

“ But you may not know them as such,”cried
Quilp, endeavoring to discover from whence
the merchant had gotten them, for they read
simglry, “ Pay to bearer,” etc..

“ on have the right to send me to prison,
air, if the checks are forged.”

“ And I’ll do it, Jby Heaven!”

“ I don’t doubt lb, Ezra Quilp, if you have the
poww; but you have not, for the checks were
given to me from reliable parties.”

“ Ah! been round using your name among a
dozen men to borrow enough to pay me, when
you are not worth a dollar, and that brings it
under the head of getting money under false
pretenses,” sneered the miser.

“ I was not worth a dollar, while you held
these notes, Quilp: but they are in my pos-
session, sir, and shall remain so,” said the mil-

-lionaire, with great composure.

“ But you owe the money borrowed to re-
deem them.”

“Oh no, for that was made in a speculation,
Ezra Quilp; a far better investment than you
would have been: I hope you understand my
allusion, miser Quilp.”

“ I understand, sir, that you took those notes
from me without my will, and I shall—”

“ Hold on, Ezra Quilpl I gave on more
than their value, and I now ask for e
due me,” was the stern reply. ‘

“And on refuse to keep our agreement re-
garding iss Lyndel”

“ My dear sir, there is no agreement between
us; on held my notes, and you have the money
for hem. Good-afternoon, Mr. .”‘

“Andrew L do, you are .t wartin the
wrongmaninte. ehehadform ,and
I swear to you tha you shall rue it,” hissed the

now livid miser. .
“ What wro , vs I done you, sir. thatyou
“’Why, you have broken your compact with
me

make this three 1’

“ I have redeemed my notes, sir, and that re-
lieved me from your hateful clutch. "

“ “y Heaven! this very day, Andrew Lynda.
I clo d, have sold your notes for double their
va 119. .

“What!” and the millionaire grow a shade
el’. ' ,‘
“It is true.” ~

“ You joke, man.”

“ I do not.’ I

“You could have sold these notes for double
their value?” asked the surprised merchant.

“ Yes, for three million dollars cash.”

“ Great God! what does thisuneanl” and the
millionaire looked anxiously toward his son.

“ It means that your credit is above par one
hundred per cent, father,” was the quiet reply
of the young ho ul. .

“ I cannot un erstand it,” said his father.

“Perhaps I can explain,”sneered the miser,
his hope of triumph returning at the perplexity
of La; Lynde; ’ -

“ ell, sir." . '

“ It may he sings Spemy who loves revenge

o. . , .

 

“I have no other foe than yourself, that I am
aware of.”

“ Then why such a munificent offer for your
autographs l’ was the scornful question.

“ I am at a 10m to know. Who made the
ofler?”

“A bank clerk, for other parties; I believed
you sent him, wishing to release my hold upon

on.

y “ No. would to God I could have done so; and
you refused the offer l”

“ You then love revenge?"

“You know that I do. ’

“What would you 've now to have the
agreement kept?” and amld Lynda stepped
forward and confronted the miser.

“How mean you i”

“You refused double the amount of the
notes you say?”

6‘  7’

“You thereby lost, by my father redeeming
them, a million and a half?”

:2 'Irgid'” t be 'u' to largel

en you mus w1 mg a
for the fulfillment of the former age-czment, &
you refused that immense sum to carry out
your plot.”

“ I am willing to pay.”

“ Name the sum,sir,” and Harold L de fixed
his eyes upon the face of the miser, w ile his fa—
ther sat in dumb astonishment looking on, and
the 'Rev. Silas Sloan seemed a most interested
listener. -

“ Well, to consummate the ceremony that I
brought my friend here to perform I will give
glue lliundred thousand dollars,” said the miser,

OW .

A zoomful laugh from Harold Lynda an-
ewered him, while, new understanding him. his
father said, eagerly:

“M son 1 need no money, for you know
there is half a million to our credit.”

Unheeding him, Harold again addressed the
miser:

“ lace those checks just given you by my fa-
ther in his hands, and the marriage will be con~
summated.”

“ No, no, my son, you remember that—”

“I remember there was no agreement other
than verbal, sir; if the miser refused a million

and a half to consummate his plot he must pay'

that sum to carry it out now.”
“ By Heaven! and so I will,” cried the miser,
with a devilish litter in his eyes.

“ You will and my father back those
checks?”

“Ya.”

“Then Isabel will consent" eager! said
HaroldL ndo. ’ y

“No, arold , I will not consent to
break my pied word,” and Isabel L nde
swept into the room, her eyes ‘ , an her
face flushed with just anger, .for she heard

all from the adjoining room into which she had
retired at the arrival of the miser.

CHAPTER XI.
m mama’s mamas.

Wm Isabel Lynde entered the library, and
confronted the rev geful miser, her selfish and
yielding father, h r deeplyl scheming brother,
and the amazed minister started, for there
was that in her look and manner that showed

 

she would not be party to any other contracts " i

made b those who should be or protectors.

Her ’ tinctl uttered words, as sheentered:

“ No, Harol Iry‘ndlgi I will not consent to
break my pledged we ,” at once were misun-
derstood by the miser, and he cried, eagerly,
while be snapped his fingers viciously:

“Ha! ha! foiled. are on, Harold ynde, and
£21, too, Andrew Ly in our effort to de-

ud me of what is my no; ay, foiled by
the honor of this noble .”

‘ him,_her act
the words ‘ sprung to the
lips of her father and brother.

“Do I understand, sir, that these is any fu-
debtednea due you froman one in this house!”

“I have ven your fa :- his notes,an‘d I
await to
faltered the ndserlnot half liking the
look of contempt. ' ‘

“If I heard arlght, for I did not withdraw-
upon your coming to the adjoining room, yru
were notonlypald for these'notu, but owaa
small sum in t”

7
en’s

gfi'

/

“Ynm, which I will pay, if theth are“

“Do you amasssrtthatm‘
deal inworthlea  “with

“I havehownhimtodowm'wasfle,“

     

the fulfillmentof tbecom " w”

I
t

  
    
     
   
         
   

lyefather would,  35» v

  

 

10

J ULE. THE J EWESS.

 

 

quick response of the miser, stung by her man-
1:

er.
“ What mean you!” and she glanced first to
her father and then back at the miser.
“ Oh! a little matter of long a o, of which it
is not necessary to speak now, w en you know

already that he sold you to me to save himself; ‘

is not that worse than passing bad checks?”

The shot struck home and Isabel winced un-
der it; but recovaring herself she said:

_ “As you are not a friend to m father, my
brother or myself, I beg, Mr. p, that you
leave this house.”

“But, Mr. Quiip has just told us that the
notes he hel of my father he was oflered two
dollars for one on their face for,” and Harold
came forward.

“He belies his name of Miser Quiip to have
refused,” was the scornful retort.

“But I did refuse, Miss Isabel.”

“Then, sir, allow me to say, that instead of
being the sharp business man you are called
you are a fool.’

“You shall change that opinion of Ezra
Quil , my beauty, before long.’

“ do not fear your threats sir, and I am
surprised that my father and brother permit
your presence beneath this roof. ”

“But, Bel, you ageed yesterday to enter
into a cognpact with r. Quil , to save my fa-
ther, and now I must beg t at you keep it,
when he can make that sum in cash which the
miser is willing to give,” said Harold, selfishly.

“Brother!” and she turned her gaze upon
him in a look that made him drop his eyes; and
seein its effect Ezra Quin said, eagerly:

“ es, if you keep gm compact I will pay
into your father’s ban a million and a half in
mono .”

“ 015 for the riches of the world, sir miser; I
tell you I am free from my compact with you,
and never a in will you hold claim on me. ’

“Ah! my5n beauty, on do not know Ezra
Quilp if you believe is words are idle, when
he tells you he will yet lower that haughty

head.”

“Go sir!” and she inted toward the door,
toward which the ister was already mov-
n .

5I‘ll go, Isabel L de, but you are not yet
free of zra Quilp,” e said, his face black with
passion.

“ One moment, Quiip; there is a little balance
due, you know,” and Harold Lynde stepped
forward.

“Let Mr. Quin hand that to the person, as
soon as he has found the checks are good,”
spoke up the millionaire, with a meaning look
at his son, while he muttered, sotto voce .'

“It’ll keep the person’s tongue still.”

“Yes, yes; Parson Sloan, Mr. Quilp will
hand you the balance due, as a donation from
my father; it is just two thousand nine hun-
dred and ninety-nine dollars, and thirty-three
cents with which to clothe and feed the needy
mem rs of your flock.”

The eyes of the minister glistened with de-
light, and he replied:

“ I thank you, my generous friends, and may
God bless on and your household forever.”

“ Ma curse you forever is my prayer,”
hissed orth the'miser. '

“One minute, Mr. Quilp,” cried Isabel.

Bulienly he turned toward her.

“ Can you tell me who it was that made you
that errerous ofler for the notes!”

0.
d “ You do not suspect!” persisted the mai-
en.
, "I did suspect it was your father, through
friends.” ‘

“ A bank m‘emenger made the ofler for
others?” ‘

u Ya" I

“Describe him, please.”

“A youth of seventeen perhaps: a Jew, I
think, tho h I did not notice him closely.”

“AM a ew, and a peculiar light came into
the 0 es of the maiden as she turned away,
. while Quilp said in fierce tones:

“Remember, Andrew Lynde I neither for-
E'llve nor forget the past, and this day’s work

t makes me still greater your debtor, and I

t of revenge shall be paid

\

swear to you the do
to the uttermost.”
The next moment he had no, and behind
him he left an uncomforta Jo feelm in the
breasts of the millionaire, his son and ughter,
{3: tbs-ith that the miser was a man to keep
' .

—

CHAPTER XII.
m man’s rms'r arson son. airman.
T801188 the threat of the minor left an un-
feelint at

nleasant and really uncomfortable

first, in the minds of the millionaire’s family, it
soon wore off with the father and dau hter,
who had not the same cause for drea that
Harold had, as the reader will remember his
criminal attempt of the night before and more
especiali at him had Em Quilp looked are he
de from the room.

ut, rememberin the half-million in cash in
the possession of h father, and of which he
was to have his share. Hamid Lynde threw 01!
his moody humor when the three assembled
around the dinner-table at six o’clock that day,
and, iifter a glass of wine or two, became quite
ovla .
J As for the millionaire, thougli: relieved in
mind from his business troubles, e yet had an
aching of the heart when he remembered whom
he owed it to, and the sacrifice his noble daugh-
ter had made and his manner toward her was
more respect ul than ever.

With quiet mien, in strange contrast with her
usual brilliant conversation and bright face,
Isabel Lynde sat at the table, giving her orders
to the servants, and her manner and pale face
alone showing that she had that day
through a severe ordeal.

Common consent had dropped the events of
the day out of the conversation, and the dinner
was progressing quietly, when a servant entered
and said;

“An ex ress memen or is at the door, miss,
with a pee age which 9 will deliver only into
your hands.”

Isabel was about to rise and go to the door,
when her father said:

“ Bid him come in here, Richards.”

Resuming her seat Isabel waited in surprise
for she was expecting no package and the nex
moment a confidential agent of the express
cciisnilparéy entered, bearing a small package in

an s

“I am authorized to deliver to Miss Lynde,
Only, this package, for it is marked most valu-
able ” he said, olitely. '

“ I am Miss Bynde,” said Isabel.

“Then please receipt here,” and he handed
her a book and pen.

In her bold, graceful hand she signed her
name, and the expressman departing she care-
lessly, though of course with a woman’s curi-
osity, opened the neatly folded and sealed bun-
dle, and discovered a morocco case beneath.

O ning this with a spring-latch, she gave an
axe amation of surprise.

And no Wonder, for before her eyes was a
necklace of diamonds and rubies, a pendant of
an anchor, and a pair of bracelets of the same
superb pattern, and the gems in all of vast size
and beauty.

“Worth a hundred thousand if they are a
dollar,” cried Harold.

“ Far more elegant and costly than anything
I ever gave you, Bel,” said her father.

“ Who can have sent these beautiful gems?”
was the meditative remark of the maiden.

“ Perhaps that card will tell, sis,” and Harold
pointed to a smalch half-hiddenin the veIVet

case.
Taking it up she read aloud:
“Will Miss Lynde honor me bgaccepting the ac-
oompanylng as a souvenir of Knox. Moreen."
Isabel’s face flushed, and then turned deadly
pa}; for an instant; but, recmng herself, she
as: - '

3 Oh,  what aifi I to doi’Lo’ u
Accep t em, a means° sa prince
he‘ igj a J ewél’lbrckeyin Harold. ,I ;m
‘ nder e circums noes, hope you
acce t them, Bel,” said the millionaire.
“ will do so; he certainly is generous, and—r”
“You Were lucky to esc old Quilp, the
miser, sis and if this Mdloch eeps up as he has
be u, I’ll get a m in his % ogue.”
Do not be verent, are d; what is it,
gichardsi” this to the butler, who again on

red.

“ A letter of importance, air, and the messen-
ger waits.”

"Ah! I’ll see what it means,” and the million-
airebroke the seal, and his son and dau hter
noticed his face change color as he rea the
contents.

. Motioning to the servants to retire, Andrew

Lynde said, with vehemence:

“Well, for the sublimity of brass, this letter

is perfection; listen:
“Tim Preseason, Saturday.

"MY V7 Dun Mn. LYNDI: '

“Pardon me for writing you, instead of calling, as
I am qultb occupied {lust now in preparing mfly to—
morrow’s sermon for t e blessed lambs of my ock,

. and have not the time to spare for a chat wit lyou.

“ My o‘lfllect in writing is, to say that it is my men-
tion to b d for my parish, out o my private meam,
an elegant church, and not ha- sumolent funds
of my own. I beg of you. your nob son and loveiv

 

 

daughter a private donation—there need be no rea-
son for our «fa/ire to be made public, I know you

“ I would request merely ten thousand dollars. and.

feel confident, under emitting circumstances, that you
will oblige me.
“With deep regard, I am my dear Mr. Lynde,

‘ ourso entIy,
“Sins Snow."

“ He E an accursed biackmailer!” broke from
Harold’s lips, indignantiy.

“ He knows his power, father and already be-
gins to make you feel that he is your master,”
quietly said Isabel.

“ I shall put this in the hands of the police, as
a blackmailin letter to extort money,” re-
marked the m' lionaire. '

“And the reasons will all then come out; no,
no, better pay him his ten thousand and then
see if We cannot stop the matter there,” sug-
gested Harold, and, as if having decided that it
was the best course, the merchant called out:

“ Richards!”

“Yes, sir.”

“ Bring me my check-book pen and ink.”

The articles were brough , and Isabel said,

quiefly:

“ eke it payable to bearer, sir.” "
“ Ah, yes; a good suggestion,” and the million-

aire wrote his check, and then inclosed it in an

envelope, addressed simply to

“ BILLS Snow, Esq.”

“ That will show him that I consider him un-
worthy the clerical title he hears,” he said, as
Richards departed with the letter to hand to the
messenger.

_“ Well, we need another interruption to our
dinner, to bring us luck. according to the old
ads 6, ’said Harold, resuming his interrupted
mes . ~

“Troubles never come singly, Harold,” was
Isabel’s remark.

“True; old Quin should put in an appear- '
y \

ance now— Well, Richards

“A man who sa 8 Mr. Ezra Quilp sent him
to see you persoxi ly replied the servant.

“ The— N o, no,I beg pardon, sis; but truly
is it said, ‘ kof the devil and his inns a .
pear,’” an with a pale faco Harold iiynge
went to the door, and the instant after loud, and
angry voices were heard, then a shot, and a
heavy fall, and into the dinin -room sgrun the

oung aristocrat, a gistol in is han‘ , ang his
ace livid, as he crie :

“ Father, I have killed him.”

“Killed whom? for the love of God! speak!”
cried the millionaire, unable to. rise from his
chair while with staring eyes and white face
Isabe arose and started toward her brother.

“ I have killed an officer of the law, sent by
Quilp to arrest me,” was the strangely calm re-

pl .

x Great God! oh, this is terrible, and greater
than I can bear,” and the old man’s head sunk
upon the table.

“ Harold, you must not stagy here, for, if you
have done this, all father’s in uence and wealth
(fantncit save you from the gallows; fly!” cried

sa 1e .

“ Where shall I go!” he asked, in a dazed
manner.

“ Anywhere. so you leave here: come, I have

a few hundreds in money, and father has more _

in the house, and can send you a! check, when
we know where you are: come i”

“Yes, my son, fly while you can,” cried the
millionaire, tottering to his feet.

Out of the room Isabel led him, past the dead
form lying in the hallway, and into the library
and there he remained With his father, who h
followed them, while the brave maiden went to
her room.

“ Here Harold, it is all I have,” and she gave
him a rail of bills. '

“And here is more: now, my son, for the
love of God, fly— Ha!” I

All started for a loud and impatient ring
came at the cor.

But oontroilin herself, Isabel glanced out of
the window, an in the gathering twilight saw
a female form on the piazza. "

“ It is a woman,” she said.

The next moment the door opened, and the- .

three heard in clear tones: .
“ I must see Mr. Harold Lynde at once.”
Richards, a most faithful old family servant

had just dragged the bod of the officer out o "

sight, and answered calm y: ‘

“Iwillseeif heisin; whoshallI saywishes
to see him!"

" Say a woman: no no, tell him Jule; the
Jewess ” was the im out response.

“ Bid her come in ere Richards,” tailed out
Harold. and the non insiant. Jule. the Jewess.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JULE, THE JEWESS.

‘li

 

entered the room, just“ Isabel left by another
r.

CHAPTER XIII.
As umamNAm mscmsn.

11 was evident that Jule, the Jewess, when
she entered the libra , had expected to find
the young aristocrat no, for she drew back
in some confusion, the sight of the million-
anje, but said firmly:

" I came to see you, Mr. Lynde, upon a mat-
ter of im rtance.”

The in lionaire gazed upon the beautiful face
and form of the young girl, and saw that she
wore a troubled look, and misunderstanding
her resence there, he said sternly:

‘i‘ 'v’hat, Harold, are we to learn of another
heinous crime to he laid at our door?”

. J ule quickly understood t e words of the mil-

lionaire, and drawing herself proudly up, she
said ‘with flashing eyes, while her face crim-
sone< :

“ Whatever crimes, Mr. Lynde, your son may
have been guilty of, be good enough not to con-
sider me an accomplice.

“ Then why, may I ask, have you come to his
home in this unceremonious manner?” .

“To warn him of danger: to tell him that
one whom he knows to be a bitter foe, munds
so arrest him to-night.”

“Hal you are too late, but still your words
prove that you hold deep interest in my son.”

“Father, this maiden is hardly known to me;
[know her only as Jule, the Jewess; 185‘? mght
I attempted to break the contract we had
formed with old Quilp, and she prevented me
from doing what tonight I have just done—
taken life. ,

“ God of Abraham! I am then too late,” cried
the J ewess.

“ Yes, Quilp sent an officer to arrest me, and
——I killed him,” said Harold Lynde, with forced
calmness.

"Then fly, or the law will have its justice,”
she cried.

“ Justice?” said the young man, indignantly.

“Yes, justice; if you have willfully taken
human life you deserve punishment; but still I
would not see you die an ignominious death
and I bid you fly; here, to aid your escape, I
brought you this disguise,” and she handed him
a bundle she had brought with her.

“ It is an officer’s cloall, naval cap, and false
whiskers; put them on, for you have little
time,” she said, percm torily, and unheeding
the presence of the fat or of the young man,
she quickly and skillfully placed the beard upon
his face, and threw the cloak around his shoul—
gersd, while he placed the naval cap upon his

as . '

“There, no one would know you now; go,
and may this act of mine repay your kindness
to my parents in the t, whether it was
prompted by good or evi motives; farewell.”

As she spoke she turned to go, but Harold
sprung forward and seized her hand, while he
said fervently: ,

“Farewell, swoet J ewess; but remember
you shall never be forgotten by Harold Lynde.”

She made no reply, but passed uickly from
the room, and out o the house, an after a sad
parting with his father and sister, who again
returned to the room, the young man followed
her, his n in a. whirl, his heart on fire.

As he ascended the marble steps a carriage
drove u , and from it alighted two men.

Oneo these he saw was an officer in uniform;
the other he as Ezra Quilp,

WWI! 810W Step, for he saw that he was not
recognllfid, he walked away from the mansion;
but once out of sight, he darted along at a rapid

, my in tha (infliction of the stables, and a. few
minutes after was {nounted uponhis own ridin
horse, and flying like the wind along the
leading u the river.

The reaIdence of Andrew ynde was situated
not far from the bank of t River, for the
millionaire was one of New York’s merchant
princes, and at a point which, at the time I
write, was domd with handsome country-seats,
but which now from the growth of the metro-
polis, is covered with bloc sof brick residences
With only one or tWO of the old-time mansion;
remaining, and those rapidly going m min,
and their once elegant grounds turned over to
r god children, goats and chickens.

p what is now the Eastern Boulevard
Harold Lynda dashed, until he came in sight of
the old home of Ezra Quilp, and here he sud-
denl drew re while he gated at alight in a

win ow, which is experience the night before
told him was the room of Jule, the Jewess. ~
“Ah. my pretty Jewen. if you  not

 

stayed myhand last night, I would not now be
a In itive from ‘ustice.

“ did not kill the miser, but I have taken
the life of the man he sent to arrest me, so you
kept not my hand from becoming blood-stained,
and, if I am taken, you may at see old Q11in
rejoice in my death on the 0a lows.

‘But, from m heart I thank you for your
kindness this ni t.”
Thus saying a once more rode rapidly on,

and soon after drew his panting horse up at the
Astoria ferry.

“ Open your gate quickly, my man, for I
wish to catch that boat, and keep the change
for a glass of grog ” he said, hastily, to the gate-
kee er, who caught the dollar thrown to him
wit one hand, while he'took firm hold of the
bridle rein with the other, at the same time call-
ing out to some one in the ferry-hone:

‘Cap’n, I guesses this is yer man.”

Then out of the ferry-house stepped a man
in uniform, followed by two others, and the
former said slowly:

“ Are you Lieutenant Dorcas, sir?”

“ I am not,” was the impatient reply.

“ You are a naval officer I see.”

“ That is evident,” was the evasive response.

“ Well, sir, I am sorry to detain you, but
Lieutenant Dorcas of the navy shot a man, in a
dispute over cards. this afternoon, and I was
sent here to guard the ferry against his esp

m IH

fieax‘old Lynde’s heart grew cold, to feel that
an accident was going to keep him in durance
vile until his own deed and flight would become
known; but he said with all the calmness he
could command: -

“ My man, 1 am not the officer you speak of,
and I warn you not to detain me, as I am in
haste to cross over into Long Island.”

“I may be wrong, sir, but I hopes not for my
own sake; yet I have to hold you as such are
my orders; you must dismount and wait until I
telegraph to the station and report.”

It was a desperate moment for Harold Lynde,
and he acte with desperate recklessness, for
drivin the spurs into his horse he caused the
aniina to bound forward striking the officer
and ferryman on each si e of him with such
force as to knock them down, and then away
darted the splendid animal.

But one of the other oflicers quickly drew a
pistol and fired, and, with almost a human
shriek, the noble horse went down, throwing his
rider over his head. ’

Half—stunned as he was, Harold Lynde en-
deavored to rise and draw his pistol; but
strong arms seized him and the next instant he
was heavil ironed, while his cap, cloak and
false beard aving come of! in the struggle, one
of the officers remarked, with triumph:

“In disguise as I live! yes, boys, we has our
game but he were a. terror.”

“ es, his horse nearly broke my shoulder;
but come, sir, you must go to jail With us,” and
Harold L do, his heart almost crushed with
shame an despair, was marched of! to the city
prison.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE OATH or A mwnss.

Tim persevering, tireless, sleepless and for-
ret-like reporters had gleaned the full tidings of
startling news .for the readers of the papers
they represented, and ere twelve o’clock at
night, following the reckless deed of Harold
Lynde, the whole affair was in type.

After arestless night, Jule, the J eWess, arose
with a contented heart, for she felt that she had
done her duty toward the man, who some time
before had bestowed kindness upon her dying
father in his need, and she could not believe
that the handsome young aristocrat had acted
wholly from an evil motive, for she was too
pure in heart herself to behave one who bore the
semblance of e. gentleman could be so vile as to
plot her ruin through gaining her gratitude.

“ Well, be his motive what it ma , I have re-
paid the debt by saving him from t e lows,”
she murmured, as she stepped out on t e upper
front iazza to look after her plants, which she
kept t are.

“ I did not mean to eavesdrop,” she con-
tinued, " but I saw old Quin come in with the
ofiicer, and knew he meant harm, so listened,
and I am glad I did, for I was just in time to
save Mr. ynde, and the disguise I fortunately
thought of and purchased, alone protected him
from recognition, as I caught sight of the miser
in the carriage that drove into the gate as I

out.

“Oh, why did he takeuife, for otherwise the
charge would not have been half so severe!
bug.l ngw, if he is taken, nothing can save him,
m .—

 

“ Good~mornln , Miss Moloch; you look as
hri ht and beautiful as the day.” .
e voice breaking in upon her musings"
sounded harsh and sinister to her, and she_said,
coldly, as she turned and behold Ezra Quilp at

his window gazing at her: , ‘
“ My name is not Moloch Mr. Quilp.” ‘-
“ Ah! you are not then ' s Molochi” ‘
“No sir ”

“Perhaps then it is Mrs. Moloch?” he sug-
gested, with an attempt at a smile, but which
on his face was a grin.

“ No, I am not Mrs. Moloch.”

“ Ah! I thought you must be the wife, or the
sister, of the gentleman who rented my rooms. ”

“ No, I am neither, Mr. Quilp.”

“The lady, I hope, is your mother,”he said,
with an emphasis on the third and fourth
words.

“She is. sir.”

“ Then I trust all is well, for I would not like
an  that looked off-color to be—”

‘ ir.

He paused quickly as he caught the dark,
flashing eyes, and stammered forth:

“My dehr child, do not misunderstand me
for I assure you I meant nothing; who could
have an evil thought where you are concerned!”

“Only one, sir, who had no honor, and whose
heart had become so warped by evil deeds,
would suspect an innocent girl of wron -do-
ing,” she said, in her rich voice, and With a
tone of contempt in it.

“True, true, In dear Miss—Miss—”

“I am called ule, the Jewess, Mr. Quilp,”
she said, coldly.

“ True, Miss Jule: but have you read the
news this morning?” he asked, g ad to change
the subject.

“ No, sir, I have not seen the papers.”

“I have, for I have one left for me every
morning; it’s the Herald and I get it for three
cents when you know the price is four; but
then I take the outside one of the bundle, which
is always soiled or a little torn, but it does me
just as well, and I save a cent; there’s great
news in it this morning.”

The miserly disposition of the man disgusted
her; but, most anxious to see the report of Har-
old Lynde’s deed the night before, she conquered
her aversion, and said: .

“ I would like to see it, sir, if you please.”

“ Certainly. my dear miss, certainly; but re-
turn it, please; no, no, you can kee it, for you
did mea 00d turn last night, an I Will give
you the erald, though I always keep them, as
you know papers advertise for back numbers
sometimes and offer a dollar or two for them.”

He handed her the paper, inting to some
large headlines, and her eyes all upon the fol-
lowing:

“THE RED DEED OF AN ARISTOCRA'I‘I
“ HIS FLIGHT AND CAPTURE IN DISGUIBEI
“ From a Palatial Mansion to Prison!
“A DISGUISE mA'r PLAYED lint FALSE!”

She read no more, but clutching the paper in
her hands, without a word to the miser, turned
and entered her own rooms, through the full-
length window, and then, like a marble statue,
she stood for an instant, while from her lips
came the words:

“Bilthe God of Abraham! if the dis '50 I
gave 'm caused his ca ture, then will save
him; yet, I swear it by hope of Israel I”

 

CHAPTER XV.
“ BTAB’I'LING snssmmx ” As nun Ir
JULI, m .mwnss.
Wm Jule, the Jewess, after receivin the
Herald from the miser, and reading the cad-
ings of the startling sensation gleaned by the
reporters, took oath to save Hare d Lynda from
the gallows, her manner was im resslve and de-
termined and her face was of daring do-
teriifination. th I h. t m
seems e disguise ve 1m go as
into trouble and revented is escape, and he
and his father beautiful sister may think it
was ‘ven him to entrap him,so I must free
him in the power of man or woman.

“ flow to see what is said here that made that
old miser gloat over his trium h,” and she en-
tered her room and closed the cor, though her
mother had gone to market and would not re-
turn for an hour or more.

Throwing herself in an easy-chair, in the
cosey little room she fitted up for herself
with such tests. she scanned over the numer-
ous large announcements of the “ startling
sensation in ' h 1110.” and then aloud. and us

run

 

 

3%

Johnna]; JEWESs.

 

 

 

 

 

liar mind and heart were bent in taking in each
Vword she slowly read as follows:

“It is seldom that our city is so startled by two
‘Iuch events in high life as we give below, and those
of a gossiping turn of mind will find food for talk
that will amount to more than a nine days’ wonder.

“ Nearly all of New York knows the handsome and
dashing young millionaire, Harold Lynde, by sight,
for his coach-and-four has often whirled along our
avenues, crowded with distinguished guests, his ele-
gant form has been the cynosure of all eyes, as he
galloped through the Park, his flirtatious at the
opera and theater have created general comment,
in a fast horses have won purses, his yacht has
taken prizes, and his dissipation and extravagances
have been the town gossip for a year or more.

“ But now an end has come, for, from his palatial
home, the mansion of his father on the East river,
he has gone to the Tombs, charged with a deliberate
murder of an officer, and even worse than that prior
to his killin Detective Dads, and which was the
cause of the officer's death.

“It seems, from the reports gleaned by our re-
porters, that one Ezra Quilp, better known as old
miser Quilp, dwells in a one-time elegant brick man-
sion in the upper part of the city, and the grounds
of which, consisting of half a dozen acres, run to the
water’s edge.

“This property, bought for a mere song from its
dissolute oung heir, t e miser owns, and expects
to realize ge from; when the cit ’3 advance en-
croaches upon t, and here he dwe Is alone, or did
dwell alone, until several days ago, when a small
Jewish family rented part 0 his domicile, and, if
the stories are correct, it was fortunate for him that
the went there.

" einfi interviewed last night by our reporter, Mr.
Ezra Qu p was rather non-committal, but admitted
that he had advanced large sums of money to Mr.
Harold Lynde, on his simple note, and that the day
before maturity the young man attempted to get
them renewed, but failing in doing so, that night
entered his house, by means of the roof of the back
piazza, and attem ted to get osscssion of the paper
against him by t ing the ho der‘s life.

“ This effort, however, failed by the sudden coming
and interference of one who seized the young man
with his knife in hand, and prevented the deliberate
assassination.

“ From what was said by Mr. Quilp, the reporter
surmised that the one who saved his life was some
one of the Jewish family; but whoever it may be,
he will a pear as witness in the case.

‘Mr. ynde, not paying the notes the next day,
Mr. Quilp would have had them protested, but in
some way misplaced the key of his safe, and was
unable to do so, and at once he determined to have
the young aristocrat arrested upon a charge of as-
sault with intent to assassinate, and had the apers
made out accordingly, and after a long con erence
with Detective Dade at his ome, dispatched him to
make the arrest, he, Quilp. and another officer
awaiting him in a carriage a few squares from the
Lynda mansion.

“ The long stay of the detective caused Mr. Quilp
to grow anxious, and driving to the mansion they
discovered the millionaire merchant and his daugh-
ter pacing the room in great distress, and the dead
body of the officer lying in the hallway.

“All that could be ascertained regarding the tra-
gedy was that Mr. Harold Lynde had been called
into the hallway, from the dining-room and that a
shot and fall soon after followed and the young
man returned to his father and sister and said he
had killed a man and in dis ise he soon after left
the mansion, and even met uilp and the associate
of oflicer Dads at the door, but passed by them un-
reco nized.

“ . Andrew Lynde, his daughter, and the ser-
vants refuse to speak upon the matter before the
trial' but it is s ran 0, if Harold  nde acted in
self-defense, or forw at reason he . led the detec-
tive, that he did get rfiglgllnflj mildt await trial, and not
brin sus icion o gui y g .

“lgow cpomes the strangest part of the affair, for
it seems that Harold L nde used as his disguise a
naval officer’s cloak an cap, and a false beard, and
yesterday afternoon Lieutenant Dudley Dorcas of
the navy dropped into a fashionable gambling-
saloon on Broadway to risk a few dollars at faro.

“ The dealer, so it is said, had been drinking, and
twice called out the wrong card, whether by acci-
dent or design remains to be seen, and the naval
officer boldly charged him with trying to swindle

him.

“lAt this the bdecider, Fagcy Nick Fellowshlsnd twho
vii be remem as a angerous man. rus
hand into his pocket and attempted to rise, while he
said, it is reported: ‘

“ ‘ Those are your last words, sir.

“ Instantly, acting in self-defense, the lieutenant
drew a pistol and tired, and Nick Fellows fell in his
tracks.

“In the confusion that followed, Lieutenant Dor-
cas, unperceived, left the ambling-hell and went at
once on board his vesse dawn in the lower bay
while the police spread the city over in pursuit 0
him,‘ it heng believed that the gambler was dead.

“bhortl afterward, however it was found tha‘t
the ball 3 need on the skull of Hr. Fellow s, making
a slight wound, but stunning him, and soon after
dark 0. letter was received b the chief of police
from Lieutenant Dorcas, telhng him that he had
surrendered to hiscaptain on board ship and await-
ed orders.

“ In the meantime Harold Lynda, who had unfor-
tunately for himself assumed a naval disguise, rode
up to the/Astoria ferry on horseback, was believed

he Lieutenant Dorcas escaping, and, when or-
dared by the police oinoers in wal in: to dismount

 

and surrender, daringiy attempted to ride them
own.

“The sergeant and ferryman went down before
the bound of the spirited mare ridden by Mr. Lynde,
but, ere he could escape, a well-aimed shot from
officer Bent brought the animal down, and the fugi-
tive was captured, ironed, and taken to the Tombs,
where he now lies awaiting his prelimina trial,
which will be held to-day, and which must 0 course
result in his committal to be tried b a higher
court, when we fear Mr. Lynde will flu, it hard to
escape, as his flight has already condemned him,
even in the eyes of many of his intimates."

Such was the report of the scenes of the day
and night before, which Jule, the Jewess, read
so carefully through.

Then, as she closed the paper, she said,
slowly:

“It was a mistake to urge him to fly, and 1
made the mistake.

“ Had he nomained, for none saw the act, he
could have told his own story of the murder, as
I fear it was, alas! and there would have been
no one to contradict it.

“ Now his flight will rove him ilty, and 1
know that the wiser w 1 do all in is power to
bring him to the gallows.

“ 'l he Tombs is a strong prison, but as strong
doors and walls have been opened before, and
can be, ay, shall be again,” and Jule, the Jew~
ess, banished all care from her beautiful face,
and arose to meet her mother, whom she heard
coming upstairs.

CHAPTER XVI.
A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING.

Two preliminary examinations of great in-
terest to the public, it seemed, were held in
New York on the same day and before the same
justice.

The first called was Fellows 4:3. Dorcas.

In this case Lieutenant Dudley Dorcas, of the
United States navy, a handsome young man,
who was present in full uniform, was accused of
firing upon one Nick Fellows, a gambler, with
intent to kill, and wounding him in the head.

The young oflicer was accompanied by his
lawyer, but the gambler, althou h fully able to
appear, failed to do so, or to 9 even repre.
sented by an attorney, and the lieutenant was
dismissed, and the sus icion became a fact that
Fancy Nick FeIIOWS 'lleW that he had given
the sailor cause to believe that he intended to
kill him, and consequently made no charge
against him.

Then Harold Lynde, accompanied by his fa-
ther and two distinguished lawyers, appeared
before the bar, and half an hour after the oung
millionaire returned to his cell in the ombs,
committed for trial on two charges; first, of
secretly and with murderous intent enterin
the house of Ezra Quilp between midnight an
dativiaflid making an attempt upon the life of
sin 1 p.

Second, of having killed Detective Dade, who
was sent to arrest him at his home, and then
sought to escape by flight, in which he had
boldly resisted arrest.

No bail was allowed to be taken in either
case, and the elegant Howard Lynde went back
to his cell feeling that the world, its joys and
its beauties ware forever shut out from him,
for, if the riches of his father, and the efforts of
his attorneys, failed to make the judge accept
bail for him, his trial would 0 hard indeed
with him he knew; and so also iew the gray.
haired millionaire, who return to his elegant
home with a bleeding heart.

“My child, poor Harold is doomed, alas,
doomed!” groaned the millionaire, as he sunk
down in a chair in Isabel’s room, upon his re-
turn from the trial.

“Father, be brave, be strong, for certainly
this horrible charge cannot be proven against
him, and, as no one saw him kill the oflicer, his
own story must be taken of it,” said the
maiden ho full .

“No,,no,p°he in be sentenced to the gal~

7,

ws.

“ Why should he? The charge of this miser
isridiculous, for Hamid owed him not a dol~
lar,” returned Isabel, who little dreamed that
there was any truth in the charge that her
brother had become a midmglit assassin.

The millionaire made no reply, but groaned
bitterly, for though Hamid had saidlnothing to
him of his attack on the miser, knowmg the na-
ture of his son and from certain words the

oung man had said to Jule, the Jewess, and
ooks that passed between him and the miser
which he now remembered, he feared that he
had really made the attempt to et. possession
of the notes by taking Ezra Quil s life. .

“It was wrong for us to w Harold to
fly, for he may have had cause to kill the of-

 

ficer- I mean actin in self-defense," gested
mail 8 "g

The millionaire looked up quickly, lanced
cautiouslymaround the room, and sai , in a
hoarsew ‘ per:

“ Would to God, my child, it were true; but
you know Harold’s nature as I do.

“He was armed, which I did not know, and
which in itself, taking Quilp’s charge into con-
sideration, was a suspicious circumstance, and,
when the officer arrested him he shot him.

“ Knowing how guilty he was, Harold at
once determined 11 n escape, for, had it been
otherwise, he woul have remained to brave it
out.

“It seems that you reason truly, father, but
Harold must not die for it; every bit of evidence
in his behalf must be ferreted out, and evary
particle against him must be suppressed all ill
our power; who are the lawyers you have en—
gaged, sir?”

" Judge Graham—”

“Ah! none better, sir: any one else?"

“Yes, he has a young associate, whom he
speaks of most highly.”

“ Young associates must not be trusted in this
case, father, for the present District Attorney
is a fearful adversary to pit a fledgling lawyer
against,” said Isabel, flrm .

“The judge has rfect confidence in him,
and what young Wi bur said at the trial to-day
was sharp and to the point.”

“ Wilbur is his name?”

“ Yes, Martin Wilbur; he is the son of a poor
Episco al minister in Virginia.” ‘

“W iere have I heard that name before, f..-
ther?” asked Isabel, meditatively.

“ I know not, Bel, unless in the law reports.”

“W'hich I never read, sir; no, Iliave heard
the name, and it seems to me, as I diinly recall
it from the past, under no pleasant circumstan-
ces; but I will not borrow trouble, for if Jud 0
Graham is satisfied with Mr. Wilbur, I :Aho Id
he certainly; yet, father, the life of your son
and my brother is at stake, and be his fauli:- :.n:i
his follies in the past what they may, lie is in
prison, charged with a double crime, and every
effort, ever sacrifice shall be made to save
him,” said t e brave girl, earnestly.

“And it shall be, in child: he shall escape
an ignominious death i I sacrifice my last dol~
lar; yes, dearly as I love gold, it shall flow like
water to the last drop to save my boy.” -

“God bless you, my dear, good pa 3.; let us
hope, and if the skill and eloquence o lawyers
fail, we will try something else.” '

“What else?’ and the millionaire looked up
finickly into the beautiful face bending over

1111.

“ Oh, gold weighs down iron, sir, and if both
are put in the balance, the latter will go up,
and the prisoner pass from under the bars," she
said significantly.

“ understand you; yes, if Judge Graham
and Wilbur fail us, then I shall pit gold against
stone and iron,” and, with this new hope in his
heart, the millionaire’s face grew brighter.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
amass IN run sun: CAUSE.

“ J ULE, I see Victor coming up the walk.”

The cry came in the voice of Mother Na-
omi, and startled Jule, the J ewess, from a deep
reverie, as she sat in her room, her eyes bent on
the sun going down beyond the Hoboken
Heights, but her thoughts busy plotting and
planning, for not yet had he been able tode-
vise an plan of action in her determination
to save arold Lynda, and she longed for ni ht
to come, that, in the uiet and darkness of or
own room, she could ecide what course to pur-
sue.

A blush swept over her marble-like face, as her
mother told her who was approaching, and she
went into the sitting-room just asVicwr Moloch
entered, his handsome face more serious than
was usual with him.

“ You are back sooner than you expected
Victor, but I am so glad you have come," said
the maiden, taking his band.

“Yes, Jule, I have come to have a  with
you; where is our mother?” he said, quietly.

“ Preparing inner, and consequently in cook-
ing attire, so you will not see her until she has

nmped up.” .

“ I am g ad to have a moment with you, Jule;
but first let me thank you for your servme ren-
dered me yesterday,” and he threw himself lan-
guidl into a seat.

“I the messenger garb, you mean?” shesald,
'i‘EhY‘ mum ted part, ad i bl '
ea: on so our in ra y.

“And guide suchya handsome. them! boy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

JULE, THE JEWESS.

13

 

an:

 

that when I looked at myself in the glass at the
hotel, I fell desperate] in love with myself; how
is that for concsit, ictor?” and she laughed
merril , but it was assumed lau hter.

“I 0 not blame you, Jule, gor as a woman
none can see you and not love you, as your
face is, the mirror of a noble soul andapure

He spoke fervently, and it was the first time

had seen him so moved, and, wishing to

“rigs the subject, she said, quickly:

“ hank you, kindly, Victor, for the very
pretty photograph you give of my virtues; but,
tell me, what was the secret of your movement
regarding the Lynde notes?”

“The were paid,” he answered, abruptly.

“Pei I then Miss Lynde was sacrificed to
t miser Quilp?” she said, sorrowfully.

‘ No, Mr. Lynde paid the money, when Quin
called, took up his notes, and thereby caused the
miser to attempt another wayto avenge him-
self, and bitterly he has done so: here is the pa-

‘ per with the account, and I wish to read it to
you,” and he drew the Herald from his pocket.

“ First, let me ask you, Victor, and do notbe—
lieve me inquisitive, but how did Mr. Lynde
manage to get his notes from the miser, when
he refused to take from me double their value?”

“ He could not refuse, when money, calling
for their face and interest, was tendered by the
drawer of the notes.”

“Ah! and did you advance this money to Mr.
Lynde?”

“ I did,” he said, and his face colored slightly.

“ On what plea could you do so?” _ .

“ He gave me security,” he said, hesitatingly.

“Then 1 have to thank you for doing this for
me, as I know, at my uest you acted, and I
hope on will get a g interest for .your out-
lay x;

ictor; but I am so glad dear Isabel Lynde
not have toknow sorrow.”

“And her brother, Harold Lynde?” quickly
asked Victor Moloch.

“I would guard him from harm too, Victor,
for though you think he acted with evil purpose
toward me, I cannot believe it, and am glad
to relpay him for what he did do.”

“ am happy to hear you say this, Jule, for
I may call upon you to aid me; now let me read
this paper to you, and, if you have not already
heard of the misfortune and sorrow that have
fallen upon the Lyndes, prepare to feel for them
most deeply.”

“ I know all, Victor, for Mr. Quin gave me a
paper this morning.”

‘ You do not know though, that bail was re-
fused, for both charges against him, and that
he is m the Tombs, and the public judgment is
that he will hang for his crimes.”

Jule turned a shade paler, and Victor Moloch
went on to tell her of the result of the prelim-
in trial, and ended by saying:

“ he Christians have it that Providence di-
rected that he should assume the disguise of an
officer of the navy for whom the police were
searching, and thushe cau ht; but you and I,
with the religion of our athers, know that it
was accident.

She looked up quickly from beneath her long-
frin ed lids.

“ id he suspect her?” was the thought that
flashed through her mind.

Then came another:

“ Had she been found out in any way i”

But his face showed no sign of distrusting her,
and, after a moment, Victor Moloch continued:

“Jule, what may be, in your heart, your feel-
ings for this youn profligate—”

‘ Victor M oloch, you forget that Harold
Lynde is a Christian, and I a Jewess,” she said,
haughtily, and her words caused him to wince.
for the reader knows how well the random shot
hit the center in Victor Moloch‘s case.

3991118)!“ Pained look, she continued quickly :
“ Forgive‘me Victor, but it was hard to feel
that ou would believe for an instant that I
won] forget the creed of my people and turn
my back uplon the God of Israel, to love one of
a race who ad persecuted us for long centuries.

No, no, there is a wall between the Christian
and the Israelite neVer so high and only a
renegade to our creed can scale it."

The man droo (1 his head, and his lips were
arm set, for ag did her words sink m... a
knife into his inmost heart.

“ You are right. Jule," he said, at last u from
the standpoint of our race; but then lhve is a
strange leveler of castes and creeds.”

“Love would elevate my thou hts not lower
them to a level beneath me and cans; me to for-

tmy peogile and the God of Abraham,” was

8 promp res use and the brows of the man
contracted, as t ough with pain, while he said
in a low tone, in which his voice sounded
dranlely soft and musical: _ .,

 

V

 

“Jule let us not discuss this subject more
for I but spoke of our feeling, perha a secret
regard for Harol Lynde, tha mig t prompt
you to act for his behalf.”

“ Ah! you wish to serve him then?" she said,
quickl .

“ I (I; not wish to see him die on the gallows,”
was the somewhat evasive reply.

“ Do you think he will be hanged?” she asked,
with deep interest.

“I know it.”

“ Can his lawyers not save him!”

“ No for the case seems too clear against him
regarding his killing of the ofllcer, and his fool-
ish attempt to escape brands him with having
done it u ely.’

“ An this charge against him of having at-
sempted to assassinate the miserr’ofiw' tly asked

11 e.

“ Jule, what of that charwe‘l” ‘

She started, for the question came so direct,
and his eyes were fastened intently upon her.

“ How do you mean, Victor?”

“The paper says the miser was saved by
some one coming in?”

“ Yes, I read it.”

“It presumes it to have been one of a Jewish
family, who had just mOVed into this house,”
and he still eyed her closely.

“ So I noticed,” was the calm reply.

“ I did not awaken that night.”

“ No?” in a way of inquiry.

“ No, and your mother certainly did not, or
she would have spoken of it.”

“ Yes?” in the same tone.

2 You ,yvere awake, Jule?”

“And told me you overheard what
between the miser and his visitor,
Lynde.”

“I told you truly: I heard what passed, and
I heard the meditations aloud of Ezra Quilp."

“ And the miser says his life was saved by
one who cntered suddenly, and yet you told me
of hearin no strange voxce.”

“ Nor id I, Victor; if the miser has made
some false statements, why may he not make
others?”

“ In what respect!”

“ He said that Harold Lynde owed him money,
and gave the notes, and you and I know it was
his father.”

“ Ah! I had not thought of that; I see now
that Ezra Quin will do an hing to hang Har-
old Lynde; but I wish to ave you aid me in
plotting against the carrying out of his pur-

Ose ’3

“ You wish mete help you, Victor?” she asked,
with surprise.

“ Yes.

“ How can If”

“ Do you object!”

(‘ N0. 7

“ And you will do so?”

“ How can I?”

“ You aided me splendidly in the note business,
and can again.”

“ Tell me how and I will.”

“Thatis the question. I do not know how,
and I have come to you to aid me in devising
some plan, for your woman’s wit will be of the
greatest service.”

“Victor, tell me why you have so suddenly
develo ed this deep interest in the Lyndes,” and
she 100 cd him squarely in the face. '

Again his face flushed, but he answered,
evasively:

d “ Jule, did you not ask me to aid them yester-
ay.

“ Yes, and you do this wholly for me, Victor!
It is indeed most kind of you.”

He saw that she believed him, and, his noble
nature revolting against implying a falseth
to her, he answered, franklv:

“Jule, I would do anything I could to serve
you, or to give you pleasure, for as you know,
you are very dear to me; but 1 will honestly an-
swer you that I have another motive for my
actions in this matter.”

Her beautifull arched brows were rais
and her eyes, no her lips. asked the question:

“ What is that motive Victor?”

He understood her look, and answered:

“Jule, I cannot now tell you my reasons for
wishing to save Harold Lynde from an igno-
minious death; but trust me wholly in this mat-
ter, and in good time you shall know all, and
more, for there isa secret I have to tell you.”

“ Asecrct, Victor, and between you and the
Lyndes?” she asked, with sur rise.

“ Yes, the foundation of w ich was laid long
ago; but ask me no more now, for I pled you
totell you before 333* long, and shoul have
told ego!) to-day, it not been for this
Crag~ y.

rold

 

L "130‘; we must work together to save Harold
yn 9.

“Victor, all that I can do, I will gladly do:
command me,” she said, earnestly.

“ Listen: Harold Lynde is in the Tombs, and
you know its securityl from the escape of a pris-
oner; and et, Jule, e must escape from there,
for that is he only way to help him.

“ The guards are true, or believed so, the
walls are thick, the iron bars are strong, and
eyes will be constantly watching him; but for
a 1 that we must get im out, and your little
brain can do it, while I plan his flight after he
gets out."

“Give me tonight to think of it,” she said,
with no desire to make known to Victor Moloch
that she had intended spending the night in that
very way.

“ Very we'll, and I will think of it too, andto-
morrow we will compare notes, for I am deter-
mined that the brother of—l mean the son of
Mr. Andrew Lynde shall not die,” and Victor
Moloch glanced quickly into the face of the
Jewess, to see if she had noticed his slip of the
tongue.

But she appeared not to have done so, and re-
peated his last words:

“ And I am determined that Harold Lynde
shall not die.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
A LEGAL INQUISITION.

IN one of the strongest and most dismal cells
of the New York rison, so appropriately
named “The Tombs,’ sat a man upon whom
even the e as of his fellow-unfortunates were
turned wit a certain curiosity amounting to
awe, for why such a man had committed crime
to bring him to that wretched placo was more
than hardened criminals could understand.

A hungry man stealing bread they could ap-
preciate, for they too he felt the gnawings of
starvation; a man cornered in some bur lary
taking life to save his freedom, they coul un-
derstand, as they could also the act of the sneak-
thief to keep body and soul together; but a man
born in luxury, reared in extravagance, and
with everything heart could desire at his beck
and call, to become the midni ht assassin, to
strike to death the officer of the aw sent to ar-
rest him, and not make his money be him oi!
at the trial, they could not comprehen .

And such was their curiositiy regarding Har-
ald Lynde, who had invad their prison re-

eat.

The c'omforts, in the way of a carpet on his
cell, an easy-chair. soft bedding, books and ci-
gars, with which his father’s wealth had so
plied him, seemed to the other less fortunag
criminals like bedecking a corpse with dia-
monds and fine silks: for if the heart was cursed
with bitter memories, if the hand was reddened
with innocent blood, if the shadow of the gel-
lows already fell across his open grave, What
hollow mockery were luxuries to the white-
faced, haggard, sterndi ped man who silent]
paced his narrow cell rom morn till nigh
with the same leonine tread, the same nervous
step, and untiring gait of the caged brute.

hus pacing to and fro between his stone
walls, the third day of his stay in the Tombs,
Harold Lynde was startled by the words from
the keeper on duty:

“ A gentleman to see you, sir.”

“Who is he, and what does he want with
me?” was the fretful uery.

“ Your lawyer I be ieve he is.”

,“ All right; show him into my dismal den,
though wh he comes to bother me I know not
as the pub ic have already tried and convicted
me.” he said, bitterly.

The keeper beckoned to some one, and a tall,
slender person, very elegant in appearance, very
courteous in manner, and with a dark, intellec-
tual and exceedingly handsome face, advanced
and was admitted.

“I have permission to see Mr. Lynde wholly
alone, officer,” he said, with a pleasant manner,
to the keeper.

“I know it, sir; such orders was Sent, and
lawyers is always permith to see clients; how
long, sir?”

‘ Half an hour, officer please.”

“ ery well, sir; but {must lock you in.”

“ I do not mind it,” was the smiling re-
sponse, and the key turned and the keeper dis-
appeared.

_er. Lynde I am glad to see you lessdil-
pirlted than I feared, 811'.”

“You are my junior counsel, I believe?” and
Harold Lynde eyed the attorney closely.

“Ye sir ;_ the judge, my senior, asked me to
come, “, and I will ntroduce myself, as I see
you do not seem to remember me.”

“I do remember you now; you are Merton

 

 

  

 

‘14

Wilbur,” and the rlsoner’s face changed color.
“I am Merton ilbur, sir, the charity stu-

dent of the University-but now a practitioner

'1 law in this city,” was the smiling response.

" And you are to defend me in this case?”

“ Yes, why not?”

“ We were not friends in those days.”

- “ It was your fault, not mine; I went to the
University a poor charity student, for my fa-
ther Was not able to 've me the advantages I
.desired, and we be an unpleasant misunder-
(andingfl’

" Yes, about a. Jew; one Adolph Hugo.”

‘ Yes. sir; but that is passed: I punished
yvu, and I was punished by expulsion: but I
got my diploma from another colle e and I as
now let the past bury its dead, an let us tal
of the resent, for I have determined that you
are at heart too good a fellow to hang, and in-
tend to save you. ’ .

There was something in the frank, hopeful
manner of the young lawyer that won Harold
Lynde over at once, and ave him confidence
and he , and he held fort his hand and said
in a veice that quivered:

“Wilbur, forgli'ye my insolenco to you that
day and be my 'end.’

“ Gladly; now to business, and pardon me if
I seem very inquisitive, but you know it’s a
law cr’s prerogative toward a client.”

“ irst tell me has my father hope of saving
me from the gallowsl”

“ Not the slightest, though he told me to use
his purse as my own to do so.”

“And in sister?”

“ Is hope ass, for I received a letter from her,
or rather the firm did.”

“ And {our partner, Judge Graham!”

“ Has 1: e lawyer’s hope against hope.”

“ You draw a dismal picture, sir.”

“ Day brightens as the sun rises, Mr. Lynda.”

“ The public believe me guilty?’

" Why should they not when you ran off?”

" You are plain-spoken at any rate; but does
any one believe I can be savedi

“ There is one who does, but who I know
not, as the note and accompanying funds were
anonymous.”

“ What mean you, Mr. Wilbur?” asked Har-
old, in surprise.

“ 1 received by express a package of money,
amounting to twenty-five thousand dollars-
with it was a note, in a hand that was be on
my knowledge to trace whether written y a
man or woman, and it read simply:

" ' Use this to save Harold Lynde by fafi' or foul

means.

“‘If you need more no it double or uadruple
this sum. put in the Personals of the emld the
~amount accessions :53! e. in the (ins em! Kan) “

“ And no name was to this strange note i” said
the amazed young man.

“None.”

“ One more question to you, sir!”

“Well?”

“ Do you think ou can save me I"

“That is what I ave come to find out by a
chat with you.”

“ Apply your inquisitorial screws: I am
ready.’ was the resi ned remark, and Harold
leaned back indolent y in his chair; but was
brought up with a start at the first uestion.

“ Is miser Quilp a liar, or are you .be assassin
at heart he says on are?”

“ Mr. Wilhuri’ and indignation flashed in the
eyes of the prisoner. .

“Mr. Lynde,” was the calm response, “do
not forget that you are to be as an open book
so me, and I must read your thoughts as I can
my own; there must be no blot. upon the page
to hide aught from me, for I must work with
my eyes open, to see he 0nd these walls where
you cannot see, m ban 3 free, and not shackled
as are yours; in act, I must know everythin ,
and a sin I ask you, did you attempt to kill
Ezra uilp?”

For is very life Harold Lynde could not re-
sist the fascination of the man before him, for
the dark, strong face, the brilliant black eyes,
and the winning voice held him as under a
charm‘ I d. and he said in response, in a firm voice:

‘ 1' .

“Enough on that score as to what you did;
now, again: did youkill Detective Dado with-
out a cause?” .

it Yes. 7’

“ Describe the act.”

“He asked me if I was Harold Lynde, and
upon my answeflngin the affirmative, said:

“ ‘Then, as an o cer of the law, I arrest you
tor intent to kill Ezra Quilp.’ "

“And our rep y, Mr. Dado?”

“ I to] him he had mists n his man, and—I
Iliad him.”

“Thank you. Mr. Lynda. now we will u.

 

JuLE. THE JEWESS.

what brou ht all this about ” and for along
half-hour arold Lynde underwent a most
searching ordeal of questioning, and to all gave
frank and truthful answers.
Then the keeper reap ared, and Merton Wil-
bur arose, and said. in is pleasant way:
“Cheer up, Lynde, for your case is by no

1 means hopeless, and you may yet live to see old

Quilp hanged.”

CHAPTER XIX.
OUT or run names.

Herman NAOMI was slowly wending her way
homeward, a small marketbasket upon her
arm, when she came upon a man who put out
his hand, and, almost rudely, stopped her, while
he said in Hebrew:

“ Do my 0 es lie? or are you Rachel Muir?”

She loo him straight in the face, striving to
recall his features, and said slowly:

“ I am she that once was Rachel Muir; now I
am Rachel Naomi, grown so old that folks call
me Mother Naomi: who isit that finds resem—
blance in this old face and drooping form to the
Rachel of long ago?”

“Look “in my eyes, Rachel, and see if you
cannot read the name I bore a uarter of a cen-
tury ago,” and he placed both ands upon her
ghoulder and turned his dark eyes full upon

er. -

She saw before her a man of forty-five, r-
haps, of supple form, bronzed face, and clot ed
in tatters.

He was a Hebrew, with a face strongly
marked with boldness and deternination, but
looked as thou h he were ill.

“Yes, I reca 1 a resemblance to one who was
my kin "she said slowly.

“ Hal go on, Rachel, and tell me who he
was?”

“ He was one whom our mother here with me;
he was my twin-brother Isador.” ‘

“ Have you done, Rachel?" he asked, eagerly.

“You are like Isador, but you cannot be my
brother, and yet—”

“Go on, Rachel.”

“And your eyes cannot he, be the face and
form what it may,” she said, earnestly, and he
asked in a low tone:

“ Who am I, Rachel!”

“But Isador is dead.”

“ Dead?”

“Yes; he left us in the long ago with a heart
bowed down with woe, and he sa' ed for a far-
away land just as be lead crossed the threshold
of manhood.”

“ Why did  can, Rachel ?”

“A wmnau; one with a Sweet face, but he
believed a. false heart, drove him away, and the
ship went down in the sea, and We have never
heard of him more.”

“He was lost then?”

H Yes. 7)

“Rachel, I am Isador Muir.”

One glad cry and the trembling hands of the
woman rested u )on his shoulders, and her head
was bowed unti her gray hair rested upon his
breast, while she said in uivering tones:

“You were but a boy hen, and in all these
years change; have come, my brother, but vou
are Isador Muir, and blessed be the God of
Israel for bringing thee back to me.”

“But I come in rags, Rachel,” he said, sadly.

“What care I? is not your heart the same,
for did you not recognize Rachel Muir, the
beauty of thirty years ago, in old Mother
Naomi?”

“ But you seem not rich, my sister?”

“I am not, but I am comfortable, and my
home is as thine, for we have a warm friend.”

“ We! who?” ,

“My child and I.” _

“ And thy husband, for thou dost bear the
name of Naomi?”

“ Lies in his ave.”

“ Alas! and t children?”

“But one, I said, a daughter, J ule."

“ Is she as beautiful as thou wert, Rachel?”

“ More so, Isador."

“ Then she is proud.”

“ Only as becomes her blood.”

“ But will not welcome her vagabond uncle.”

“Ah, leader he not a skeptic regardin thy
own blood; Ju e is my daughter, I said. ome
and see if she welcome not thee.”

She took him by the hand, and, as in Myears
Before when they were children, she 1 him

ong.

They had stood by the gate leading into the
miner’s weed-grown grounds, and up t 0 narrow
path she conducted him.

“Dost live here, Rachel?” he asked, looking
critically; at the old homestead

I.
"n- lm ed Inn thy fiche-ham than”

‘ ‘ ‘ ’ : . v .
. SM v'v' .mr ‘.' , i . i' a ‘ 3 » V
1 \ M x‘.,':-- a..." :t'p  ‘- 63?!” if 'i’ 1'  . 4e?" .‘r’.’

 

 

“A

“ Bus withal it is a pleasant home; the rooms
are lar e and comfortable, the air is fresh, the
view 0 the river is beautiful, with its bosom
dotted with sail, and the birds sin merrily in
the trees; it is like you and me, I or, old and
time-scarred without, but like our hehrts, when

on look within the house you will find it cheer-
¥ul and a warm welcome will be there for you.”

She had paused as she spoke, her hand upon
the door-knob; but now she threw it open and
ushered him in, and then up to her own rooms.

At a bar , idly running her fingers over the
strings, sat ule, the J ewess, and she looked up
in some surprise as her mother entered with a
stranger.

“Jule, hast thou a welcome for one we
deemed dead before you were born; one whose
wail, as we have often sat by the seaside we
have thought we heard on the winds, and w 080
groan we caught in the roar of the surf ; one
who went away in the long ago, not to die, but
to returnto us broken in health, destitute, and
seeking only acorner at her fires1de'l” '

The woman spoke with strange pathos, and, .
at her first words Jule had risen.

The man stood like a statue of poverty, his
tattered clothes hanging around him, his bronsed
face stretched forward, and his eager, burmng
eyes watching as he waited.

Comin over to him Jule took both of his
hands in or own, and said frankly:

“ You are uncle Isador I know though we
never met, and I grew up to think of youas
dead; as one from the ve on come to us,
and our warm hearts wi shiel thy latter years
from the sorrows and distress thy earlier ones
seem to have knowu.”

“ The God of Abraham bless thee, Jule
Naomi, and the blessings of Irrael fell upon this
household,” said the man, in an impressive
tone, raisin his hands above his head,

Then, wit a strange twinkle in his eyes, he

said:

“ Rachel, sister, thou hast reared thy child af-
ter th own heart, to have her welcome one like
megb t know thou, Rachel and Jule, lam not the
beggar I seem, for I come to thee rich;'ay there
can no more want come to this household, for
the wealth of Isador Muir is as thine own.” '

CHAPTER XX. 1'
A LEAF FROM THE BYGONI. _

“You would hear, Jule, why thy uncle so
long remained as though dead, and, with a for-
tune remains in rags ike the veriest beggar,”
said Isador Naomi, when the two sat together
that evening after dinner.

“Yes, for I confess to m
curiosity, uncle,” answere
with a smile.

“ Dost know why I left my native land?” he
asked. quickly. .

“Only that thou hadst a sorrow that drove
thee awa .”

“ Girl, will tell thee of that sorrow; I will
tell thee that when but onescore years had left
their impress upon me I loved.

“ The one I loved was a girl as beautiful as
thou art in face and form, but her heart was
hideously deformed.”

His eyes flashed as he spoke, though he re-
called one to memory who had proven false to
him nearly thirty years before, and Jule said,
quietly: .

“Don’t tell me the story, uncle, if it gives
you ain.”

“ ain! wh , child, I have known onlypain
in all these ong years; it has at last eaten a
sore in my heart that is killing me, and that is
why I came back to my native land, for here
are our people at home. '

“ I had several attacks that prostrated me in
the stioet, and I came back home to be near my
kindred when the end shall come.”

“Oh, uncle, yen will live many long years
yet,” said J ule. opefully.

“Not so; the canker-worm is gnawing to the
seat of life, and the end must come soon, though
perhaps not for months.

“ But I was to tell thee, Jule, why I left my
kindred and my home.

“ The one I oved, Salome Monica, lured ms
on to my own destruction, fed me with hope,
and then became the wife of Marcus Hugo, my
best friend.”

“ How false indeed was her heart,” said Jule,
indignantly, and then she added: “ Her name
was Salome Monica, you say, and she married
Marcus Hugo?”

“Yes, just a quarter of a century ago they
were ed.

“ She sent'me a note, me to forgive
her, and to prove my forgiveness by going to

the wed .
“I did In. Jule: I was a silversmith. than»

 

share of woman’s‘
Jule, the Jewess,

 

 

 

 

 

IL ,.

ads skilled worker, and I toiled night and day
so give her a wedding gift worthy of the for-

givoness of Isador Muir.
“It was com leted the very evenin of the
weddin , and i cost me every dollar had in
old, set

the wor d.”

_“ I have heard of it; a star of solid
with Opals, rubies and diamonds,” said ule.

“Yes, and with the gold face of it carved
beautifully to represent a star and its rays, the
rays being of various tints; ahl it was a costly
trinket, and a beautiful one, and I was repaid
for my work on it, for it accomplished its end,”
the_man said with sudden fierceness of manner,
which caused the maiden to start, and ask:

“Accomplished what end, uncle Isador?”

“The end I sought, of course; to show her
that I forgave her and her husband.”

“She is dead n0w I believe?”

“Yes, she died one year after her marriage.
and since then I have eard no word of home
and kindred for the night of the wedding I left.
as I believ forevar, and the ship in which I
sailed went down in mid-ocean, and but two of
us survived of all her crew, and we were res-
cued, after days of drifting in an open boat,
more dead than alive.

“ From that day I have been a wanderer in
foreign lands. ”

“She left one child,” said Jule, as thou h her
thoughts were of the woman who had riven
Isador Muir to become a restless wanderer
about the earth.

The man sprung to his feet as thou h an ad-
der had stun him, and cried, with ve emence:

“ Salome onica left a child ‘1”

“ Yes, uncle a boy.”

“ Where is that boy nowi”

“ He isa man, now. ’ .

“ Amen; well, I forget that it was long years
ag‘odianarcus Hugo also die?”

“Jule, tell me what you know of those two,”
he said, pleadingly. ,

“My mother, in speaking of on, has spoken
of them, and she it was who to d me that Sa-
lome, who treated ,you so ill, died one year af-
ter her marriage—

“ Yes, that was well, that was well,” the man
mutterineg said.

“That she left one child, a boy, Whom they
named Adolph Isador Hugo.”

“ Ea! after me?”

“So it seemed, uncle.”

“And that boy?”

“Grew to man’s estate, and his father educa-
ted him as well as his means would permit.”

“IVhy, Hu 0 was rich.”

, “ Was, but e lost his riches in some way,
and what he lived on, and educated Adolph
with, was the money he got from the gem star,
your wedding resent.”

“Hal he sold it then after his wife’s death?”
the man asked, quickly.

“ No, he kept it until forced to part with it,
and then he wned it, and paid the interest on
it up to his eath; but Adolph, learning its his—
tory, ‘lt .seems, refused to pay more on it, for
he said it would be as a star of ill-omen to him,

you as it was by a man whom his mother had

11 false in heart to.”

" The boy had honor; well, this star of ill-
omcn was then lost, J ule'l”

“ So I suppose, uncle' that was years ago.”

The man was Silent for a moment, as though
comniunirsg With the past and then said:

“Now, ule, let me to you why I dress in

7)

“I will be glad to know, for, as you are no
miser, like the one we rent our rooms from, it is
a stran e freak for a rich man.”

' “Weill, I have been such a train ) that the
, arb suits me well, Jule; but when left home
ong ago, I wanted to die but I would not take
my life; then, when ours 'p went down I clung
to life, and, in my gnawmg hunger and damn-
ing thirst, in my fearful danger of death, I
prayed to the God of Israel to spare me, and

Sledged myself to dress as a beggar the remain-

\

 

er of my days.

“My life was spared, and in tatters have I
clothed myself eVer since; but the heart, Jule
the heart is not deformed, and my blood is still
Warm for my kindred, as you, my sweet Jule
shall know, for fortune has followed after my
footsteps through all, and you shall be the
heiress to the riches I possess.” ,

Jule gave one quick, surprised glance into his

- face, and then,1 overcome with emotion, burst

into tears, for er heart was too full for utter—
.300.

 

" CHAPTER XXI.
mu snows INQUIBI‘I'IVI. ‘
“Wu. child, Jule. what ails you?"

 

......|

JULE, THE JEWESS.

Isador Muir, as he saw how deeply the maiden
was movod when he told her of his intention to
make her his heiress.

“ Oh, uncle! do on think I have no heart to
remain unmoved y your kindness?” she said,
reproachfull .

‘Well, J u e it should not bring tears; let me
tell you that fknew not of your existence, and
there was one I intended to make my heir. ’

“ Do not change then, uncle,”said the maiden,
quickly.
digdAh, girl, death made it necessary, for he

“ I will tell you about him, and stra to say
he looked as much like you to Fe your rather,
thou h be was not of our peop e.

“ 0, he was a handsome Christian lad of
eighteen when death called him away.

“ His father had gone out to India and pros-
pered there, and we were friends, for he was
not a man to sneer at our race.

“The lad, then a little child, was most kind
to me, and once, for weeks, nursed me through
a long spell of sickness.

“ Again he saved my life when a man sprung
upon me in anger; he turned the knife aside, for
he was passing near, and I never forgot the no-
ble b0 .

“ When his father died, the b0 kept on
at the business and accumulated qu te a sum-
but he seemed homesick, and one day when I
told him I was coming home, back to America,
he said he would come, too.

“But then it was that death stepped in and
revented, for he fell sick of fever; but to me
e intrusted his gold and his papers, for I stood

by boldin his hand when he (hed.

“ Well, came on to America, and some day
soon I must go down to the -'Tombs,,where the
boy has a brother of his father an assistant
keeper, I believe, and give him up the papers
and the gold.”

Jule, the J ewess, started suddenly, as though
some stran e thought had flashed through her
mind, and s esaid, quickly:

“ The uncle of the lad was one of the keepers
at the Tombs, you say?”

~ “Yes, Jule.’

“ He does not know of the boy’s death?”

“ Ah, no, for he died in India, and there was
no one to tell him.”

“ Of course he knew that his brother went to
India?”

“ Yes, and died there, for he wrote the lad,
Stanley Grey, to return to him, and be as a
son to him, for he had no son, being a bachelor.”

“ And you have the boy’s papers and gold?”

“ Yes. a trunk of papers and things he left; it
is the one that came with my chest this mom-

ing; then I have drafts on a bank here for some
five thousand dollars the boy left his uncle, but
I have delayed going to, the Tombs, as I have a
dread of gomg t are.”

“ Let me do it for you, uncle, for I would be
glad to see the interior of that old pile of stone,"
said Jule, coaxingly.

“ You go in there, Jule!”

“Yes, uncle, wh not?”

“Well, if you Wlsll it, for I would be glad to
be shut of the duty.”

“ Then tell me all about the poor boy, his
earl life and habits, that fyou know.”

“ ’11 give you all the in ormation I can, Jule
and it is much, for I knew him as well as did
his father.”

“ How old was be when he went to India?”

“But a year or two, and his mother died on
the voyage over.”

With strange persistency and inquisitiveness
Jule, the Jewess, questioned her uncle regard-
ing the dead youth and his antecedents, and
then asked, in an earnest tone:

“ Does any one know that you have charge of
the boy’s money and effects?”

“ Oh. no; he died at a bungalow, and I and
several natives were all that were with him.”

Jule 5 eyes gleamed with a strange light, and
her face. was flushed, as though from excite-
;igint, but suddenly changing the subject she

e( 2

“ When do on and ‘ '
uncle Isadorg); mother go to Baltimore,

“ _Vv lienever your mother is willing for I am
annous to see if I can find trace of some little

roperty your father had there, and which he

“8m When I was with him, and that has es-
caped your mother’s memory.

“ The  has grown since then, and if yfiur
father did not sell it, the property is most valu.
able if we can get hold of it; but you accom-
pan us, Jule!”

“ o, uncle; you know that I have some little
literary taste, and I am anxious to complete a

work I am engaged on, and I will do much the
day or two you are gone.”

 

‘15

“ But we may be away for a week, and par-
haps two. ”

“ So much the better for my work, uncle
Isador.”

“ But you will be lonesome here alone."

“ Not with my work, books and harp.”

And to all urging of both her uncle and mo
ther Jule remaine deaf, and the two started
for Baltimore, leaving the maiden alone in the
old homestead, for the past few days Quilp the
miser had seldom been seen at his home.

As her mother and Isador Naomi disapde
from sight J ule’s face brightened greatly, and
with a triumphant flash of her splendi eyes
she said:

“Now, Harold Lynde you shall see what a
woman’s work shall do, for if you are not free
this night Week I shall no longer take pride in
the name of Jule, the J ewess.’

 

CHAPTER XXII.
AN ARRIVAL AT THE TOMBS.

.ASSISTANT KEEPER STANLEY GREY, of the
city prison, was pacing the stone corridors be-
tween the cells, having attended to his morning
supervision of the prisoners, when one of the
guards came to him and told him that a youth
wished to see him.

In a small ante-room Stan Grey, as he was
familiarly called by those who were his associ-
ates, found a handsome lad of about seventeen
or eighteen awaiting him.

The youth’s face was darkly bronzed, as
thou h from long exposure to wind and wave,
his b ack hair curled about his mples, and he
was dressed in a jaunty suit, while he carried a
small cane in his hand.

“Are you Stanley Grey!" asked the youth,
stepping forward as die keeper came into the
room.

“I am; who, mayI ask, are you, and how'
can I serve you i” '

“ Do you recognize no resemblance in my face
to any you have known in the past?”

“ By the Lord Harryléyou are my ne hew
and namesake, Stanley rey; right we come
are you, my boy, right welcome indeed ” and
the keeper, with tear: in his eyes, for he d a
warm heart, in spite of his stern calling as the
guard of criminals, drew the boy to him afleco
gonately, while he continued, in disjointed sen.

nces:

“You look like your father—when he was
your age—poor Air, to find a grave in a far-
away land—and you have come to cheer your
old uncle’s heart? Well, I am glad, so glad of
it—when did you come—”

“The steamer from England arrived this
morning, uncle Stan.”

“Ah, yes; well, you came that way, did you!"

“ It is the l[fileasantest route, and the quickest
to come via ngland.”

“Why, so it is- and what a great traveler
you have been, Stanley; but come into In
quarters with me, and well have a chat until
am off duty and then we’ll go and have a good
dinner together. _

“ This is a disma. place to welcome a long ab-
sent nephew to, but then one gets accustomed
to stone walls, iron bars and misery, ou know,
boy, and I have no other place to invnte you."

“ I do not mind it, uncle Stan; in fact I will
take real pleasure in looking about this old pile;
tha is if it is allowable ” answered the youth.

“ h, yes, as rug/nephew you will have the
run of the place,” said the keeper, with some
pride in his own importance, and he led the
outh to his own quarters, all the time asking

'm innumerable questions.

At last the two were seated together, in the
corridor facing one of the cells in which a man
untiringly paced to and fro, and the kee r
looked into the face of his nephew andas ed
curiously:

j‘ Stanley, it seems to me you’ve got just the
faintest look of a Jew about you.”

“ Do you think so, uncle?”

“I do indeed; ur mother I never saw but
once; she was a  Philli I believe.”

“ Yes, in mother was a ewess.”

“ Ah, in eed! now I never knew that before;
but then Phillips is a Jew name.”

“ Yes, uncle. ’

. “Then you come honestly by the little Jew
look in your face, my boy; but I won’t com-
plain of that, and, in fact, it’s not enough to
speak of and rather adds to yourgood 100
for, Stanley, you are a very handsome youth.

‘ Thank you, uncle.”

“ Yes, you look like your father too, and he
mdlwmnigiomoastsmfih alike as twinsd ;
yes, you are t o ,nep ew, an you
come well by your good looks." and the some»

 

‘16

rhilst homely keeper stroked his own face caress-
n y.

“Uncle, who is that prisoner?” asked the
youth, attentiver regarding the man who so
persistently paced his cell.

“That is a young aristocrat who has run his
head into the gallows noose,” was the answer.

,“ Ah! what has he done?”

“Tried to kill one man, and killed another,
and one of the best officers in the secret ser—
vice.”

“ What is his name, uncle?”

“ Harold L nde, and his father is'a million-
aire, and will, spend hundreds of thousands to
save his son’s neck; in fact, I have received a
hint that I could make a snug little fortune by
letting the young aristocrat 0 free.”

“It s tempting, isn’t it, unc of” said the youth.

“ Yes, to some men, but not to me, Stanley‘
my duty is here, and my honor at stake, an
one hundred thousand dollars would not tempt
me; in fact, money cannot buy me, be the rice
what it me. ,” said the honest man. an his
face was an dication that he spoke the truth.

“ I shouldn’t think any one could escape from
this place,” remarked the youth from India,
glancing curiously around.

“ Oh, es, a man with friends and money can
escape rom any place but the grave; if Mr.
Harold was poor he’d hang, for it looks as
though he were guilty, and if so he must go un-
der the gallows rich as he is.”

The youth sighed, and, some one callin his
uncle aside about some matter, he strolled im-
self about the passageways, apparently with
boyish curiosity, and soon stopped and looked
in throu h the (grated door of the cell occupied
by Hare d Lyn e.

The young man’s face was haggard and pale,
and his 1i 3 were firmly set, as thou h he suf-
fered, win 6 his e es were sunken an inflamed.
‘ “I am sorry or you, sir,” said the youth,
kindly, yet in a very low tone.

Harold Lynde turned an angry look upon the

aker, hnd seemed about to make some impa-
tient retort; but there was something in the
lad’s face that checked him, and he said, bit-

terl :

“Iain sorry for myself, boy.”

“ Well, lad, have you made the acquaintance
of Mr. Lynde?” called out his uncle some min-
utes after, as he returned to his post and found
him talking to the prisoner.

“Yes, uncle Stan, I have promised to read to
Mr. Lynde, if on will let me, for he says he
would like to ave 'me, and is too restless to
read himself; it will keep his mind off his
troubles, ou know.”

“Yes, rey I would be glad to have your
nephew read to me and chat with me, if you
can break that much through prison discipline,”
said Harold Lynde.

“There certain] is no harm in it, sir; but,
nephew, I will av‘e to lock you in the
cell when you do so; but come, mt}; time is
up, so let us go and have dinner gather,”
and, another keeper coming to relieve Stan-
lefiGrey, he left the prison with his nephew.

utin the afternoon the youth returned to
the Tombs,;telling the keeper he preferred to re-
main with him to going about the city seeing
the sights, and Keeper Grey consequently ar-
rang it so as to have his nephew become a
privileged personage in the gloomy old pile
hat covered so much of crime, sorrow and
mitsery from the gaze of the busy world with-
ou . .

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
AN OLD HEAD 0N YOUNG SHOULDERS.

“ STANLEY, run up to the court-house, where
you went with me yesterday, and ask the judge
to please send two officers from there down af-
ter the prisoner, as the funeral of 'Keeper
Burns today makes us too short 'ust now for
me to spare an from here, and eeper Grey

larti‘ceddat an o cial-looking paper he held in
is an .
“ What prisoner, uncle!” asked the inquisitive
outh.
’ “ Mr. Lynde; and tell them to come in a car-
riage, for he is so well-know that he would be
recognized and have a rabble at his heels; go
uick, Stanley, for he must be at the court by
gour o’clock.”

The youth departed on his errand, and the
keeper turned to Harold L de, who, hearing
his name mentioned, asked w at was the matter.

“Oh, I guess your father’s mone is going to
get you bailed out after all; but, i you were a
poor man, it could never be done.”

“What makes you think so, keeper!" asked
the risoner quickly, while a flush of hope
no overhis ace.

, “ he judge just sent a messenger here with

JULE. THE JEWESS.

! orders tobrlng you to his rooms: and, as you
I were put here to await your trial, it looks as if
i that smart young lawyer, Wilbur, had found
: flaw enough in the commitment to get you
1 bailed out, for what else can it mean?”

; “I certainly cannot tell you; well, do you
i go with me now?”

1 “I don’t go with you at all, as I cannot leave
v here, and being short today, on account of the
3 funeral of one of our men, I have sent for the
l‘ court officers to take you there, so you’dbetter
,' get ready,” and the keeper seemed in ill—humor
: at the prospect that money was going to save
the man who killed his friend, Detective Dado,
from hanging.

In less than half an hour the youth returned,
and he was accompanied by two court officers,
one of whom was known to Keeper Grey.

Securely bandcuflfed, Harold Lynde was led
out of his cell to the carriage in waiting, which
re. idly rolled off up t0ward the Cit Hall.

Elissing his nephew after awhile eeper Grey
upon being relieved of duty, went in search of
him, and not finding him about the rison, con-
cluded he had gone on to the courEroom with
the prisoner, so he wended his way in that di-
rection.

But searching there was fruitless, as far as
finding the youth was concerned, thou“ h to the
dismay' of the keeper, he learned a not that
alarmed him, for in full haste he returned to the
Tombs.

“Has the prisoner been brought back?” was
his breathless question.

“What prisoner, Grey?” inquired the officer
on duty.

“Harold Lynde.”

“Didn’t know he was out.”

“ Yes, a letter came here from the judge
while you had all gone to the funeral, telling
me to send Mr. Lynde up to the court-house,
and I thought his lawyers were goin ..to get
him bailed out, so sent him under the c rge of
two officers.”

“ Well, what are you anxious about, for he is
up there.”

“No, he is not.”

" Where is he then?”

“God only knows; the men at the court-
house say he did not come there.”

“Perhaps he went to the house of the judge,”
lug ested the other keeper.

‘ es, that is it,” said Keeper Grey, with a
si h of relief.

hen he quickly asked:

“ Have you seen my ne how 7”

“ No, but he’s around. guess.”

“ He went off with the prisoner, I think, for
he seemed deeply interested in Lynde the three
days he has been here with me.”

‘ He’s a handsome boy, Grey; don’t look a bit
like his uncle,” and there was a merry twinkle
hi the speaker’s eye.

“ Why, he’s very much like me, Ben,” said
Kee r Grey, earnestly, and he added:

“ e’s a fine boy, Ben, a fine boy, and I would
trust him under any circumstances: what is it,
Carter?” and Keeper Grey turned to a prison
official who just then entered, a. letter in his

an .
it: A letter for you, sir, and a trunk came with

“ Ah yes. my nephew’s; how much is the ex-
pressage, Carter?”

“He simply left it at the door for you, and
went off; the man brought it on his shoulders:
but what is it, sir?”

And well he might ask, for Keeper Grey had
0 end the letter and reeled back against the
s ne‘wall, his face livid.

“ Boys, there has been Satan to pay here, and
I’m the victim; read this letter, Ben, for I can’t
do it,” and he sunk into a chair, while Ben
Furry took the letter and read aloud as fol-
ows:

“Knith Sultan Gasr:

“Dun Sm:

“You are too noble and honest a man to have
been made a tool of but the life of Harold Lynde
was notto be sacrificed if aught could save him,
and on have been victimized, and I regret it deeply,
but would far more regret the death of the pris-
oner, for whom there was no hope, did he wait to
stand his trial."

The reader paused, and the three men looked

t each other with surprise.

“ First, to relieve you of all suspicion of wrong in
the eyes of those who will be only too ready to
charge you with complicity, I will say that it came
to in knowledge from the ll 8 of .one who knew

our rother and his son well n India, that 1 resem-

led greatly your nephew, and a bold plan entered
my headto im saonate him, knowmg that, his fa-
ther being deag:e you had written to hm: 'iO come to

America.
“ l I lrleve to tell you that the one who gave

 

 

 

me the Information saw our nephew die of M-
seven months ago in an tindlan bungalow—"

“ God have mercy upon me!” groaned the
poor keeper, and Ben Curry continued:

“ Ere your nephew died he gave into the hands of
my informant all his papers, and his enacts, with
five thousand dollars in gold.

“ The trunk I send herewith, and in it you will find
all as your nephew left it the money being there
also, and to you, his uncle, for-whom he was named,
young Stanley Grey left everything." _

“ That’s a windfall for you at any rate,
Grey,” said the reader of the letter.

“ Curse the gold! I would give it all to have
Harold Lynde now in that cell; but read on,
Ben, read on l”

Resuming, Ben Curry read:

“ Knowing, as I did, that there was an accidental
resemblance between myself and your nephew, and
being in ossession of all the facts, with llS trunk
papers, 0 othing and gold, and aware that you b
not seen him since he was an infant, I boldly as-
snmed his name and character, and plotted success-
full the escape of Mr. Lynde.

“ irough a clerk at the court-house, who was
well bribed, I ot a letter written as from the judge,
and gold bong. t another official to play his part in

oing to the ombs, in company with another hire—
‘ 1g, for the risoner.

‘ Once on of the prison walls, and the bribed
court officer and clerk drove the prisoner to a place
of safety for him and themselves, and pursui will
be useless, as their escape is too well planned.

“ As for myself, when you catch me, 1 am willing
to undergo my punishment, but it is ‘catching be-
fore hanging,’ you know.

“ With sorrow for the loss of the noble nephew
whom you hoped to have live to cheer your later
years, and sincere regret at having had to make you
the victim, I am, very sincerely, yours to command,
but not Your nephew,

“arms! GREY.”

w“ Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said Car-
1‘

“That youth is too sharp for us, that’s‘ a
fact,” remarked Ben Curry.

“It is a bitter blow for me, my friends; but'
I’ll face it come what may; now to s read the
alarm of Harold Lynde’s escape, an we’ll see
if he is beyond recapture, as this daring boy
asserts.

“ By Heaven! I was once called the best de-
tective on the force ten years ago, and I’ll go
back to the old work and ferret out the hiding-
place of Harold Lynde, if it takes a lifetime,
and he’ll know who that boy is, and let me get
my gripe on him once, is all I ask.

‘ ound the alarm, Ben,” and the next morn-
ing the iapers were full of the clever escape of
Harold ynde through the daring of a boy who-
had played his cards with a master hand, and
the entire detective force were busy working up.
the case.

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
A SURPRISE.

“ WELL, Jule, in spite of all my plottinIg and
planning to aid Harold Lynde to escape, fail-
ed, and some one else has done so,” and Victor
Moloch entered the home of the J ewess early on
the morning after the escape, all of the morning
papers in his hand.

‘ Yes, I was startled an hour ago by loud
curses, and found that it was Miser Quilp, who
had just learned the news, Victor, and he seemed
half crazy about it, and swears he will offer
twenty-five thousand dollars reward for Mr.
Lynde’s recapture.”

“ Did you read the account?”

“Yes, the wiser left me his
rushed 063 frantically to the
ment.”

“Well, whoever that boy is he is a clever one,
and a darin one; only it reads like a romance
the way acmdent aided him“, and then his bold
plot and successful carrying of it out after he
got into prison.”

“ Do you think they will capture Mr. Lynde,
Victor ’ asked the V l, anxiously.

“I fear so, thou certainly hope not; but the
city is being searc ed in every crevice aml cor-
ner, for all the detectives seem confident that
he has not gotten out of town, and the hirh re-
wards ofl'ered, for keeper Grey also offers his
five thousand left him by his nephew, will do
much toward finding his whereabouts; but,
Jule. where is your mother?”

“ In Baltimore.”

“Did you return alone!”

“ Oh, no; the truth is, Victor, when I wrote
you not to come up, as we were going to Balti-
more, I did not go.”

aper when he
olice Depart-

“Why Jule! and you remained here all

alone?”

“What time I was here, Idid.” _

“Jule, you answer in enigmas, am you seem
distrait ; does anything worry you!” asked Vie-
tor Holoch, kindly.

ii
3.

 

 

 

 

 

T)

‘AI‘

.‘him,isnottrns”

_ ,he‘gid, regioachfully.
-' you \ tru

‘ ' tell on all?" she said. in a worried way.

"all. ’ luth, I con uded, as his human was in tho

 

" fie maiden made no reply, and her head
8D

' cleverly played thepart Of the

‘   eats he re ed herin silence,
 “,Wwo trouble look; then he said,

'i  and executed well; lmt you k
 . 1how it. Victor: but what could I do. when

JULE, THE JEWESS.

17

 

 

“Yes. and I am going to make you my son-
fidant, Victor: you remember mother often has
spoken of her brother Isador?”

u 1’ ‘-

“ Well, he has returned.”

' ‘° From the grave?” asked the young man, in
amazement.

" Oh no, for he was not lost at sea as was sup-
posed: but he has been in foreign lands, and
came home to die, he says, as he has had sevurul
attacks of heart disease.”

“Pear man, and where is he now?"

“ ln llnltimore with mother: they went there
team}. about some propert which uncle Isador
reminded mother that fat er once owned.”

“ i am surprised that your mother left you
here alone, Jule; it was not right.”

“Uh! .l told her I wanted to work, and that
if I felt lonesome I would send for Zitelle Cohen,
while you would come up every day to see how
I was getting along.”

“ How should I come, believing you to be in
Baltimore, Jule?” ‘

. “ I did not tell her that I had led you to be-
have in my letter that I was going; hat was a
part of my lot, Victor.”

“ Your p oti Why, Julem are as mys~
tsrious this morning as a pu e.”

“ Then I will tell you al ; you remember you
were to come up and seewhat plot 1 had con-
cocted to rescue Mr. Lynde?”

“ Yes.” ’

“ My letter was to prevent your comin , for
I knew you would not let me remain here a one,
and also that you would refuse to aid me in the
plot I had formed.”

“I am listening anxiously, Jule, and also, I
may gy, with some impatience; why do you
pause

“ I am thinkin where to begin to tell you.”

“ Begin at the ginning.”

“ Well, my uncle met mother and, strange'to
gay, recogmsed‘ her, and he came home With

or.

“ He looked like a be r, in dress, and plead-
ing poverty, we gave h m a welcome, as was our
duty and then he tells us he is rich, and makes
me the heiren‘to his wealth.”

“Icongratulate you, Jule, from my inmost
heart, Span your good fortune, for as you have
never owed me togive you sue a home as
your mother and yourself deserved, you can
now live as you should.”

“ You have been too kind, Victor and both
mother and myself have known that father died
owing you money, and more, we believe the in-
come you yua, and which you have said is
from an investment father got you to make for

'“Jnls!” andthe faceof the young man be-
came crimson. I
“We have latel come to that conclusion,
Victor,” she said y.
“Do you think I would deceive you, Jule!"
00, w re, on were kee i us from want;
“mi Victor, butpylgur heart would
 totonafdnhood anytime to aids

n

“ J lei Jule!” .

“ 0n. '1 Will not. talk of that now, but go on
with my stor ; my uncle told me d secret, and,
if I divulge t $0 ‘0“. I must have your word
not to betray him. ' .

" Certainly not. Jule: command and I obey.”

‘ “ You are evor noble, Victor; but how can I

“ ust m6, fully, Jule.” ,

“The secret my uncle told me was abouts
youth he knew in India, and who died there,
and that he had ,brought his trunk and money
on to give to his kindred here.

“I was deeply interested in the atoryof the
poor dead boy. and begged my uncle to let me
give his streets to his people, and hemmed them.
our to me to do so.

“As my cle said I was strangely like the

 Israel! Jule, you rescued Harold
I do! on arathe mmudboyl”

dropped 11 her hand le6 shut out. her
13¢. fromplci’ils gaze; bu Valuer Mghlzihhki‘iew
on , darin you was , a .so
“1° a” g dead East Indian

- "’ ‘ roven onrsalf to possess
m t’a “0:31:13 and nzrve, and you lot-

accident put‘ such a chance in my way!" she
said, without looking up.

“ Does your uncle suspect this?”

“ 0h, nol”

“ You may get him into trouble.”

“ No, for he came hex e just after the doom of
the boy; no one but several native Hindoos
knew that the boy died, or that my uncle had
his effects, and no letters were sent.”

“ He will see it in the papers, and know that
you alone could have played the part.”

“I will him, and confess all, as soon as he
returns; but, he does not read the papers,

know anything about it.”
“Under these circumstances the secret can
be kept; but, where did you get the disguise?"
“From the trunk; it wast. suit of the dead

boy.”
‘And how did you hide your glorious hair?"
H See 1”

She took off the head-dress she wore, as she
ignite, and there sprung to the lips of Victor

oloch something strangely like a Christian
oath, while he cried:

“ Cut it om all gone!”

“ Yes; is not short hair becoming to me!”

“Jule! Julel you have done this for Harold
Lynde, and yet say you do not love him!”

“ No, he was kind to poor father, Victor, and,
—but never mind, I’ll say no more,” she said,
with a blush, for she had nearly confessed that
her disguise, 'ven to Harold Lynde, had gotten
him captu at the ferry.

“ Jule, does Lynda know who you really
were?”

“ Yes.”

“And where is he now!“

She answered, in a whisper:

“In this house.”

CHAPTER XXV.
Alt UNWELCOME VISITOR.

“ In this house! Harold Lynda in this house!"
and Victor Moloch stood gazing at Jule in utter
amazement.

“Victor, I beg of you not to speak so loud,
for if one word was heard you would not only
undo all I have done, but get me into trouble as
well,” said the maiden, earnestly.

“True, Jule, I am wrong; but then I was
thoroughly amazed; but in the name of Abra-
ham! why brought you that man here?”

“ Victor. I had but little time to decide what
was best, and I knew of no safer place for them
to hide until we could get them out of the

ci .

“ Them I”
“ Yes, the court officer and clerk whom I
bribed.”
“Ah! that reminds me; where did you got
the money Julef”

“ Uncle Isador left a large sum with me. and
I used th 1:, knowing you would replace it, and
that Mr. drew Lynda would pay you back.”

“ I do not ask it of him, Jule; but I will send
y up the money by messenger to-day; how
mat is it?” ‘

“ I spent but twenty dollars over the bribes.”

“ And what were they!”

“Two tthand each to the ofllcer and the
clerk, with promise of expenses to another
country.”

“They sold themselves cheap,” said the He-
brew, with a sneer.

“ I saw that they could be bought and made
the purchase” .

“ And they know you as you are!”

“150, my two purchases think yet I was a

be . l
‘ And you brought them here last night,
Jule?”

“Yes: the carriage took them to the river
where they took a boat to thh other shore; bu
they came up along the bank after dark, and I
met them at the landing and took them up-
stairs to the (garret. ”

“ They be better be careful, for the slightest
sound will awaken the miser’s suspicions.”

“I was careful; there are boards up there
across the timbers, and I took up quilts and put
on‘ the to drown all sound.”

‘: Wei , the must not remain there long.”

Two of t em say they will leave to-night;
as‘soon as I can secure disguiscs for them.”

I will them for you and send them up;
nuance thembemsdetolooklike a wo-

:: Yes, the clerk has a beardless face.”

Well, I will send an old woman’s attire for
him. and a countryman’s suit for the other, and
they can easily escape out of the country, if
they have any tact: also, I will send ,you a

, thousand dollars eac for their expenses.

 

“Yen are very kind. Victor.”

neither does mother, and I do not wish herto 1

“Not at all, for as you said, the millionaire
repay me; now w at about Mr. Lynde’!”
“He thought it best to remain in hiding un-
‘ til the public felt confident that he had certainly

‘ esca from the city.”

“ f discovered, by an unfortunate accident,
you will be compromis , Jule.”

“No, I think not; it will be looked upon as a
splendid piece of strategy on his part, coming
to the very home of his enemy to hide: the
windows in the old cupola on the roof are open,
and banging all the time, and the three went
up by way of the balconies and got in. so ihat
no one else than Mr. Lynde will be believed to
‘ be implicated in his coming here, if he should
be discovered, which I doubt.”

“Well, I must c0nccrt some plan to get him
out of the city at once.”

“ My idea is that if Mr. Lynde shaves oil‘ his
mustache, cuts his hair close to his head, and
Egts on a common sailor’s cap and suit, he can

ldly walk down Broadway to the wharf and
ship on board of some vessel leaving for a
foreign port.”

“ Jule, you are a treasure‘ it is the very plan,
for its very boldness would cast of! s icion'
to-night we will get the other two 01!, an I will
ascertain when a vessel leaves, which it would
be well for him to take; but when do you ex-
pect your mother and uncle back!”

“ At any time they may arrive.”

“ Then you must be most cautious; now I
will leave you, Jule, but I will be back toward
evening, and we will get the officer and the
clerk ofl ” and Victor arose to go, when Jule
said in a ow tone:

“ Victor, I have a. favor to ask o‘fflyou,

“ It is granted beforehand, J c,” a said,
with a smile.

“ Thank you, Victor but you have heard
that in the is my uncle Isador loved one who
was false—t t is who married another?”

“ Yes: but he forgave her and presented
with a most costly wedding-gift.”

“ True, but he still feels sore at heart toward

speak of Adolph lingo before him.”

The oung Hebrew’s face became clouded,
and rismg, he paced the room several times ne-
fore he answered; then he said in a calm tcne:

“ It shall be as ou wish, Jule; if he (lees
not know aught o Adolph Hugo, there is no
reason why he should do so from my lips.”

“ Thank you, Victor; but hark!”

A step was heard without; a soft, cat-like
tread, and stepping quickly to the door Victor
threw it o n. ,

It was Lara Quflp, the miser, who stood with—
out.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
0N ml noon.

A'r sight of Quin every particle of color left
the (ace of J ule, the Jewess, and Victor Moloch
turned pale while he gave a quick glance at the
maiden, an caught her eye.

There he saw the thoughts that land flashed
through his mind.

“ [lad Ezra Quilp been long without the

“ Had he heard what had passed between
them?”

“If so, what was to be done!” '

Seeing that Jule was not alone, the miser
seemed ill at ease, and this, to the quick eye oi
the 1young Hebrew was a good omen for them,
for is manner gave evidence of his not having
known that Victor was there, and his words
cairii'ied it out, for, bowing obsequiously, he
so :

/ “Pardon me, Min Jule, but I did not know
you were on ” ' ‘
“ This is
frigid of my mother and myself,’l said Jule,

co y. -

“I think Mr. Quil will remember me, as I
rented these rooms m him for our mother
and yourself, Jule," responded ictor, in no
v pleasant tone.

“ ndeed' youdid 'Ilr indeed you did. and
paid for them the co asked too."

“ Did you expect me to do otherwise, sir-f”

A “Oh, no, no, butthen Jenfyon know, never
pay the price you ask them or xanyth ,for

 

strange c of my cannujymsntogin you. the
, opinion yoirhave of them; is than anything i.
can do for you now, sir!" .

égarmmwssnsz as: = 

lease!” .

her, and her son and I beg of you never to .

.Victor Moloch, Mr. Quilp the :

theyjcw you down as the sayi is «they

always askahigh ' tamutgméymn, ex- .

pecting to be] down. is: know.
“Iknownosuch thing. a

mgfllpfllnd
Imustsa yourdeslingahsvebeon thavery~

      
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
  
    
  
   
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
    
 
   
     
  
  
    
    
    
 
   
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
    
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
 
    
   
    
  
  
      
     
       
       

 

‘18

{ULEMTHE Jawsss.

 

 

 

" My name is Moloch, sir; Victor Moloch."

“ Ah indeed! I have heard that name down
in Wal street, as a very rich broker, sir; any
relative of ours?”

“ I am V ctor Moloch, sir, and inv office is in
Wall street, and I am a broker.’

“ No, no, now; well, sir, you have a sweet sis-
ter here indeed, and your mother is a most es-
timable lady.”

Jule saw that Victor was losing his patience,
and she said quickly:

“ Mr. Quilp, as I told
man is not my brother;
husband.”

“ Ah! well, I declare; you will be a s lendid-
lookin couple, if you are Jews; but, iss Jule,
Icall in to ask you for the paper I let you
have early this morning, as it would cost me
four cents to get another, and I wish to read
that account of the escape of Mr. Lynde once
more; you heard, doubtless, Mr. Moloch, of that
daring affair?”

“ Yes, as you doubtless heard, sir, Miss
Naomi and myself were discussing it before you
came in.”

“ Lord dear no, sir how should I hear it?”

“ I am sure cannot tell, unless you listened,”
was the abrupt reply and Victor turned on his
heel impatiently as Jule handed the miser the
paper.

“You could not give me a clew, could you.
llr, as to which way Mr. Lynde has gone?”
asked Quilp.

“ I am not on the detective force, Mr. Quilp,”

“Well, I am determined to have him, forI
have offered ‘twent -flve thousand dollars for
his recapture, and here will be as much more
In rewards given.”

“Younmust be most desirous of capturing

sir.

“I am indeed, sir: I have a debt to pay him,
and one of long standing with his father, which
I wish settled; in fact his sister I also wish to
make a payment to, and it shall be all paid in ‘
the same coin, and one they won’t like either,”
and a fiendish look came over the face of the
man that made Jule shiver, and seeing that he
had, perhaps, let his feelings be too plainly seen, ,
he said, quickly:

“Your mot er and father are away, I be-
lieve, miss?”

“My father is dead, Mr. Quilp."

“Indeed! then the gentleman with your mo-
ther is—-,”

“Her brother, and my uncle,” said Jule,
coldly. .

“Ah; by the way, miss, I meant to ask you
if the rats in the garret disturb you much i”

Jule felt her face grow white again, and see-

- mg it, Victor, with a good deal of prescnce of
inmd, sai with a laugh:

“Now, r. Quilp, if you wish to lose Miss
Naomi as a tenant, don‘t speak of rats, for
there are so many rumors the your old rookery
is haunted that on will drive her away at
once: see how pale she is at the thought of
ghosts.”

“I did not say ghosts, sir, but rats; rats cer-
tainly are not dangerous.”

“ Indeed they are, Mr. Quilp,” broke in Jule;
“I hate rats, but do you not think it may be
ghosts that make the noise, and not rats?”

“No, no, for these rumors are idle gossi , to
prevent my renting my house; but last nig t it
seemed to me the garret was full of rats, and I
wished to say if you found them annoy you, I
would send a man up there to-day, and have
everything cleared out, for the garret is full of
rubbish.”

“No, no, not On my account,” cried Jule,
while Victor remarked:

“It might be a good idea, Jule; suppose we
make an advance on the garret now, with Mr.
Quil to lead us.”

Ju e looked at Victor Moloch in horror at
such a suggestion; but she saw,'by his cool,
easy manner, that he acted for some good rea-
son, and answered:

“ Yes, let us have a look at the old garret, its
rats and its rubbish, Mr. QuilE.”

But the miser seemed in no umor to lead the
advance, and replied eagerldy:

“No, no, not if the rats 0 not trouble you;
‘but if they do tell me, miss, and I’ll have the
garget cleared out if it costs me half a do-
at

“You are too generous, Mr: Quilp,” said
Jule, but unnoticing the irony in her words, he

said.

“ I would not be otherwise toward on, Miss
Jule; but really I must go, for I wis to read
this article about the escape over again, and see
if I cannot gather some clew; Lgrdy me! but
you have cut your hair off, miss.”

you before, this gentle-
ut he is my intended ,

 

iJule, now wholly on her uard, th‘Ou h not
knowing whether it was acc dent or d gn on
his part to torture her so, or her guilty con-

, science.
, “Yes but it makes ou lookalittle boyish.”
“So I told her, r. Quilp; you see some

ladies who have very long and thick hair, such
as J ule’s, suffer with headache, and it is best to

, have it cut ofl’;dyou have not had any trouble
‘ with your hea

since you cut oi! your hair,
have you Jule?”

“No, Victor,” was the quiet reply, while the
miser said in a tone meant to show his great
knowled e of the sex:

“It is eartachcs, my dear young lady, that
do the most harm to womankiud.”

“ You seem tohave dissected a woman’s heart
pretty thoroughly, Mr. Quilp,” answered J ule,in
a voice in which the miser was certain he detect-
ed sarcasm, and, dreading above all things the
idea of being ridiculed, though he constantly
made himself a subject for it, he responded

quicg‘ly: ,
“ ell, well, I must take my paper and run
011— Hal” '

All three started, for there came from above
their heads a distinct sound, that appeared too
real to be caused by any creaking of the house,
or scampering of rats.

“Your ghosts are at it again, Mr. Quilp,”
quickly said Victor Moloch.

“ Rats, sir, I said rats ,' but they are most in-
fernal large rats, and I shall send a man up
there to- day if it costs me sixty cents.”

“ Better go yourself, Mr. Quilp,” suggested
the Hebrew.

b“; no, no, I’ll send a man to clear out the rub-
is .

“It would be a good idea; but before you go,
sir, perhaps you can tell me where I could nego-
tiate certain stocks I have for cash? I will pay
liberally for it.” -

The word pa 3/ caught the miser’s ear, and he
forgot about the rats, and said eagerly:

“Yes, yes if they are secure, I can arrange
it for you, Mr. Moloch.”

“ They are all right, sir; so you had better go
down to my office with me; we will take a car-
riage at the nearest livery stable.”

‘ I will go, sir; just wait 'until I get some
money from my safe,” and the miser hastily
left the room.

“ I will keep him busy making money until
night Jule, and then all must go; but on
shall hear from me soon,” Victor had just time
to whisper, when back came the miser, and the
two men left the house together, and Jule was
in a tremor of dread, for she feared the miser
really knew her secret, or suspected her.

CHAPTER XXVII.
DISCARDED.

Or the business transactions that Victor Mo—
loch interested Ezra Quilp in so thoroughly as
to keep him down-town, and almost happfy, for
he was making a “corner ” in a numbero little
schemes, I wil not s eak, but simply state that
the young Hebrew fauna time to write a note
to Jule, inclosing her the money he romised,
and to send it by special messenger, ong with
the disguises for Harold Lynde and his two as-
sociates.

These letter he purchased from a shop where
dramatic costumes were kept, and he was care-
ful to get the very best.

In his note he urged Jule to get the clerk and
the oflicer ofl at the earliest moment and, if
her mother had not returned from Baltimore,
to have Harold Lynde leave the garret, and in
some way conceal him in her own apartments.

Knowing the young aristocrat as he did, and
alread dreading that Jule knew him better
than s e was willing to admit. Victor Moloch
disliked to advise her to take this last step; but
after her clever rescue of him from prison, an
all the risk that had been run he would not
hesitate upon a quibble, while also he had per-
fect confidence in the maiden.

The messenger found Jule, the Jewess, ner-
vously pacing the flocr and delivered to her the
securely fastened bundle of disguises, and the
letter containing the money.

With perfect. composure she receivod them,
wrote a hasty note to Victor, and, when the
messenger had departed, set to work. '

First, she returned the money she had taken
from her uncle’s trust to her, and then after
glancing out of the windows front and rear,
went into the hall and ascended the rickety
ladder that led to the trap opening into the gar-

ret.
Unable to raise it with her strength, she
ra ped several times; but no answer came.

 

“You. don’t you think it becominzf’ asked

 

‘Can they have heard old Quiln’s susnicioua

. ,.,,g

" v
., 9;,
‘v v3.1. .. .,. :.

 

conversation. and fled!” she asked herself. and
again she rapped, and louder than before.

But no answer came. though her quick ear de-
tected a peculiar sound.

It was the tick, tick of a watch, and she knew
that Harold Lynde must be lying down on the
trap, not darin to reply, until assured who it
was that wishe to ain entrance.

‘f Mr. Lynde, it is Jule, the Jewess; come
quickl ,” she said, as loud as she dared, and al-
most instantly the trap was 0 had and the
Sale, stern face of the young m' lionaire looked

own upon her.

“Comet you and your comrades, and you
have no time to lose,” she said, earnestly, and
at the same time descendin the ladder.

Without hesxtation they ollowed her, closing
the trap behind them, and the next moment
they stood in her room, the aristocrat pale, but
calm, and with a reckless light in his eyes; the
clerk trembling, livid, and almost unnerved.
while the oflicer looked likea hunted stag at

be. .

XOhl if I were out of this in safety, I would
not do it again,” groaned the oung clerk.

“You are like the drunkar , you swear 03
Johnny, when there is no liquor to be had; but
anothhr thousand offered in a like case, would
tempt you,” muttered the officer.

“But I am in a worse box than you, Dick
Hastings, for 1 forged the name of the judge to
the order,” whined the clerk.

“ And got aid for it.”

“Perhaps ’d getmore to—”

“ What i”

It was Harold Lynde that uttered the word,
and, while oneliand gras the throat of the

ountg man, the other eld a knife over his
ear .

“ I didn’t mean to, indeed I didn‘t, so don’
please,” cried the startled clerk, for the hen
that held him he knew had already taken hu-
man lif_e, and the eyes of the escaped prisoner
glared into his own with a menacing look that
bodcd no good for him.

“You’d do right to knife him, Mr. Lynde, for
the thought was in him to turn State’s evidence
and give us both up, and enjoy the reward;
but, my boy Johnny, you’ll not play that game
on me, ’ and the officer also turned upon him.

Seeing, as she came from another room, what
was gomg on, Jule came to the rescue of the
frightened youth, saying, quickly:

“Qh. do not harm him, for he will not be so
despicable as to _carry out his halfvformed
threats; here, Sir, is a female costume for you;

it is that of an old lady, bonnet, spectacles, and
all, and I can paint your face a little, so as to
wholly disguise you, so go into that room and
dress, please.

“ Give me my rig, miss, and I’ll gig with the
kid; I don’t like to have him out of y sight, I
loves him so,” said the officer.

“Your dress is that of an old man, and here
is a razor to shave oil! your mustache, and these
gray false side-whiskers will fully disguise you. "

“ You are right, miss; I’ll think I am my own

anddad when I look in the glass: icome,

ohnny, ear,” and with a reckless laugh the
officer departed for the next room, accompanied
by the clerk.

“And what are you going to do with me,
fair Jule?” asked Harold Lynde, soft] .

Instantly she turned upon him, an said in a
tOne that was decided:

“ Mr. Lynde, when at school I was called
Jule, the Jewess, by my associates, to distin-
guish me from another of the same name; to
you, sir, I am Miss Naomi.”

The face of Harold Lynde flushed at the re-
buke and he said, humbly;

“Isardon me, lady; but I thought our inti-
mate relations sutlicwnt excuse for my crossing
the barrier of; cold reserve.” .

“Again you anger me, sir, for between us
there are no intimate relations; in the past you
were kind to my father, and to my mother and
myself; what our motives were rests with

our own conscience.

“Accident brought me in contact with you,
and I prevented your hand taking life, and, to
repay those East kindnesses, I sought to save
you when I new the miser intended to have
you arrested.

“ The very disguise I gave you entrapped
you, it seems and again I sought to et you out
of the danger, into which unwitting y my own
not had gotten you and I mped out from the
pale of womanhood and tr you from prison.
“Now I am going to concea you here until
night when you can go in rfect safety, in the

disguise I have for you, an ship on board a ves-
sel that sails to-morrow, I learn, for Rio.
ths divide

,7
1

“Once on leave this roof our
throuzh to. and I am clad that it

 

 

 

 

4——

JULE, THE JEWESS.

 

1

He heard her through without one word, and
it was ev1dent that her honest words touched
him: but a man of eat fascinations, a favorite
among women, an with an inordinate store of
self-conceit, he could not believe the Jewess was

. acting from a motive only to return a kindness

he had shown her and hers in the ast.

From hisfirst seeing her be h been deeply
interested in her, and had she been rich, he
would have endeavored to win her love; but
poor, unprotected, and yet ravishingly beauti-
tul in face and form, he sought to win her as a
toy to cast off at will, and this alone prompted
aisle very act of apparent kindness to her dying

u lel'.

Believin , from the standpoint of his selfish
naturenan inordinate vanity, that she really
loved him, when she risked so much, and did so
inugh for his behalf, he was emboldened to say

0 er:

“ Fair J ewess, what I did in the past was
done from love of you; what you have done for
me, 'ou say, is wholly ratitude.”

. on have named t e motive, Mr. Lynda;
gratitude to you prompts my action, and the
remembrance of your sweet sister also encour-
aged me, for we were schoolmates.”

You a schoolmate of Isabel’s?” he asked, in

rise.

“ Yes, we were at school in Boston together,
and she ever had a smile and kind word for Jule
the Jewess, where others had a sneer, because
was not a Christian,” she said, with a con-
temptuous curl of her red lip.

“ And on, the friend of my sister, the one I
must say so, bid me go from you for-
ever?” he said, earnestly.

“I bid you go our way, and I will go mine.’

“I will seek a ome in a foreign land, where
I Wlll not be as a hunted beast; I will build
there, for I have money, sweet Jule, a bower of
love, a cose nest, into which to Welcome the
dove of my cart.

“ You have saved me from myself, and more
than ever I idolize you, and I bid you come to
me there, when you learn from me that I have
escaped the bloodhounds on my trail.”

He .spoke impassionedly, and his handsome
face lighted up with fervor, for, as much as his
nature and se fish heart was capable of loving,
he loved ule, the Jewess, and all she had done
for him did real] awaken gratitude and kind-
ness toward her n his bosom.

But her words sent a chill upon his heart, as
she said firmly:

“Mr. L nde, on have no right to speak thus
to me, an I wil not listen to you.”

“ But on do love me; your look, your actions
Ihow it,’ he persisted.

She drew herself up to her full hight and
faced him, and bitterly, scathing] fell the an-
swer from her full, red lips an in tones he
coulltlitnot misunderstand, be his vanity what it
mig :

‘ Love on, Harold Lynda? I am led ed to
be the bril’ie of another, of one of mypowg race,
for .1 am no traitor J ewess, and, were it not so,
could I love one whose hand I withheld from
assassination, one who is now a. fugitive from
the gallows for a cowardly murder committed?”

A wail, rather than a cry, broke from his lips,
and the severely punished man turned away
and buried_his face in his hands, for the arrow
had found its mark, had cut deep into even his
selfish stony heart, and he had been made to
feel all that he was in the eyes of a pure wo.

V man.

She saw his anguish, she felt that she had
been intensely bitter and severe, and she turned
to him with pity in look and voice, and said

. quickly:

“ Forgive me i”

Ere he could reply, he heard a startled cry
from her lips, and turning quickly beheld that
they were not alone.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE PARTING.

TUE exclamation from the ii 5 of Jule, the
JeWess, and the start given by arold Lynde,
was at suddenly finding themselves not alone,
but on the contrary two persons had entered
the room unheard.

hose two were an old man, whose years had
bent his form, and‘who carried in his hand a
cane, and 21m old waililian also bowed b years.
com ete wast eir is ise,sot orou hl
did they Ibo]: the old couiplgu they pmtendea a),
be, that no wonder was t that both Jule and
Harold Lynde, who for the moment had for-
gotten their existence, believed they were suro
prised, and failed torecognize at the first glance
he clerk and the officer, the hunted companions
bathe young aristocrat.
By Heaven! you gave me a start. Hastings,

 

 

. . _ . . . .

I assure you," said fiarold Lynde, recovering
his former composure.

“I’m glad we did, Mr. Lynde, for, if we can
fool our pals, then our disguise is perfect, and I
guess Johnny and myself will get along all
right; you see, miss I believe Johnny here my
old woman, will think better of reaching
against us, and as we hasn’t many infolk to
tie to, or weep for us, and no wives to leave be-
hind, we can find a home in another country;
but it’s Mr. Lynde I pities, as be has to go

which we hasn’t.”

An impatient imprecation from Harold
Lynde checked the speech of the officer, and
Jule, seeing that the man was also cutting deep
into an already wounded heart, said, hastily:

“ Well, I do not wish to detain you, now that
you are so well prepared to go; so here are a
thousand dollars apiece for you, for expenses in
seeking a new home.”

The eyes of both brightened, for old was an
idol with them, as it is with most 0 mankind.

“We thanks you, miss.”

“Yes, I feel better now about goin ,” put in
Johnny Cameron, the clerk, as an cc 0 to the
officer s speech.

“Pardon me, Miss Naomi, but permit me to
pay this,” said Harold Lynde.

“ No, it is all attended to, sir, without trou-
blinvr you.”

“You are very kind, Miss Naomi, but as I
am very flush, my father having sent me a
handsome sum to buy my way out of prison, I’ll
add a like sum to the fee given these gentlemen
for their professional services,” and the young
aristocrat took a roll of bills from his ket,
and, in a sudden freak of generosity, anded
his two aiders and abettors in his escape two
thousand dollars each.

“You are more than generous, Mr. Lynde,
and I guess the old lad here and myself are
fixed for life,” said the 0 car.

“ Then come, and I will see you to the door,”
said Jule, who was quite nervous from dread of
the miser’s return.

“ Good-by, Mr. Lynde; luck to you, sir,” said
the officer, Dick Hastings.

“I wish you good fortune, too, Mr. Lynde,”
added the clerk, Cameron.

“ Goodby, and let me add, mend your ways,
for if you had not both been precious rascals,
you would never have taken a bribe; one ste
down-hill leads to the allows, so look out both
of you, for you have ta en that step.

“ New, with this little unasked sermon from
me, I advise you to clear out,” and the haughty
young millionaire fugitive from justice turned
coolly on his heel, while Jule led the two out
and saw them to the lower door.

Returning to the room she had
watched them from the window until she saw
them disappear in the distance, and then she
gave a sigh of relief. .

“ I would that sigh were for me, Miss Naomi,”
said Harold Lynda behind her.

“ It shall be, sir, when I See you depart from
this roof in safety.”

“ Ah! it will be a sigh of relief, then!”

“Yes.”

“ And should I not depart in safety; should I
go from here in irons back to that dismal, fear-
ful prison, would on sigh, too?”

“I would deep y regret it, sir,” she said,
coldly.

" Ah me! I know how you regard me, and I
dare not- say more: but, would to God I had
been different, that I had met you ere false
pride warped my nature, and I became a sin-
encom assed man, and then—and then—we
might ave been more to each other than we
are; you might have looked upon me With kind-
ness. ’

“ Never!”

“ Do not say that; let me at least h to my
heart the sweet assurance that it mig t have
been sweet Jule,” he entreated.

“ I say net-er, Mr. Lynde, for between us
therp rises an impassable barrier for you and
me.

“ No, no, if you refer to your engagement,
for men and women often are bound nowadays
when no heart-love is felt.” - .

“Mr. Lynde, you are a Christian, I am a
Jewess; your people are often traitors to your
religion, but seldom is it that one of my race

1)

“ There are exceptions to all rules, Miss
Naomi.” .

“ I would not make the exception, unless—J

“You pause. ”

“ I care not to say more.”

" Pra do.”

“ It would not interest m.”

left, she ‘

’19

“Indeed it would, if yZSu will say what you
intended."

“ It had better remain unsaid."

‘ “Let me be the judge.”

“So be it: I would have said that I could
lever be a traitress to my creed and my peOple,
unless I loved a man more than I did my kin-
dred and Israel’s God.”

He drew nearer to her and bent his impas-

‘ sioned, fascinating gaze upon her, and said in

'alone, and then he has that on his conscience .

 

pleading tones:

“ Will you not say that you do so love me,
sweet J ulei”

“ Mr. Lynde, I must respect the man I love,
and, knowing you as you are, I cannot even
respect you.”

“Alas! too true, too true!" and with gritted
teeth he walked away from her, and for a long
time no word was spoken.

Then she broke the silence:

“Mr. Lynde, twilight is gathering now, and
there is your costume; will you permit me to
cut your hair?”

He had long, silken brown hair, and it was
his pride, and his vanity asserted itself in an
impatient:

“Would you, like Sampson’s wife, deprive
me of my hair?’

“As you please, sir; the risk of recognition
is much less.”

“True; it had almost slipped my mind in

our presence that I was an escaped prisoner,”
he said, bitterly, and then he added:

“I ~come like a lamb to the sacrifice, Mi
Naomi.”

“ Would to Abraham that you had the lamb’s
innocence,” she retorted, quickly.

Getting a pair of scissors, she soon had his
hair cut short, and then, taking a razor she
handedto him, he soon cut ofl! is long mus-
tache.

"Why, I would not know myself even, for
my hair was never worn short, and I have had
a mustache since I was seventeen,” he said,
with evident surprise at his changed appear-
ance.

“ The seam-1’s suit and cap will change your
appearance still more; on will find them in
the adjoining room,” sai Jule, the J ew'ess.

He silently left her, and in a short time re-
turned, a bonaflde sailor in appearance.

“I assure you, Mr. Lynde, Keeper Grey
would not know you now if he met you face to
face; but it is dark now, so 1 must beg that you
hasten away, for I expect the miser back at any
moment.”

“ Curse him! if I met him now, it would not

7’

“Hold! would on still deeper dye your
hands in human ife, and blacken your con-
science with crime, wicked man!” she cried, in
an angry tone.

“I was wrong, as I ever am: forgive me. and
forget me; farewell l” he held forth his hand,
and she hesitated, when he drew it back and
offered his left one, saying pleadingly:

“This one you will take?’

“Yes; good-by, Mr. Lyn‘de, and may you be-
come a changed man is the prayer I Wlll offer
to the God of Israel.”

“ I thank you; I dare not tell you how much;
farewell.”

His voice trembled, and he turned away, and
the door closed upon him.

The next moment Jule, the Jewess, beheld
him hastening away down the weed-grown
path, and disappearing in the gathering gloom.

Then she sunk down upon her knees, and,,
with her face buried in her hands, burst into
tears, while she murmured:

“1 have done my duty; the debt is repaid,
and now his life is in his own hands.”

CHAPTER XXIX.
GLAD TIDINGS.

I'r'was the second day after the escape of
Harold Lynde, and the apers had been full of
the clever ruse of the un nown youth, that had
so darineg taken a prisoner out from under the
very eyes of the most trnsred officials.

Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, had read the
startling announcement the day before, and
had at once driven to the Tombs, to find that
the report was indeed true in every particular.

From there he had returned home to acquaint
Isabel with the, to them, joyful tidings, and
they had talked the matter over and over
again, and hoped that the son and brother had
escaped from the city. '

The next mornin Isabel read her father
aloud all that was said in the papers, and then
the said:

“ Itis strange that Harold has not tried to
see us, father, or sent us one word of his
many.”

.‘eii

 

 

20

 

 

 

.._.,,.,

“ He dare not do so, my childfi for our house

is watched do. and n ght, and ichards, bring—

ing my ma' this morning, says an oflioer- “
stopped him and examined the postmarks on

the letters.”

“ It is terrible to be watched this way; to be
constantly under this fearful espionage,” said
Isabel, peevishly.

“ I'll stand anything, Bel, if Harold can only

escape, for if he is retaken, all the law and law- .

yers in theland cannot save him.”
" And yet, after our talk with Mr. Martin

Wilbur I had strong hopes that he might es— ‘

ca e.”

“ No, Wilbur is a lawyer ‘ a good one, and
he looks on the winning si 0 always; but they
would ban Harold certain, and far better a
hunted fugitive in foreign lands than an igno-
migious death, for what a disgrace it would

“ The very tho ht of it, or fear, has kept
our friends aloof, ather; they show their hu-
man nature in a wicked degree,” said Isabel
Lynde, with indignation.

“ It is the way of the world, my poor child;
in rosperity our friends hover about us like
mot abouta candle’s flame: but believing, as
they do, that I have lost my money, as Harold
is said to have had to o to that accursed miser,
Quilp, for funds, and t at my son is going to be
hanged, they keep awa from us most severely;
but at us not thinko friends that have fled,
but see if we can think who it was that helped
Harold out.”

“ I have not the slightest idea, think as much
as I fillease on the subject.”

“ ell, it is remarkable indeed; I took the
be? twenty-five thousand in large bills, and
to d him to hint to the keeper he could make a
small fortune by aiding his escape' but this

outh seems to have been an outsider; well,

'chardsl”

“A gentleman to see you, sir,” said the ser-
vant and he handed a card.

“ Victor Moloch,” read the millionaire aloud,
and he looked toward his daughter.

“Ask him in here, father for his note of
sym thy to me was so kind, Iowe him thanks
for is magnificent present, and I believe he
was the one who sent that money anonymously
to Mr. Wilbur to aid poor Harold, so I wish to
see him.”

“ So I say, In child; ask Mr. Moloch to come
in here, Richar s.”

Elegantl attired, courtly in manner, and a.
faoe'full o unfeigned sympathy, whatever his
0 inion of the brother and son might be, Victor

oloch entered the library of the millionaire,
and was received most graciously by his host,
and with a kindness he did not seem to have an-
ticipated from Isabel.

“Mr. Moloch, permit me to verbally thank
you for your superb present to me,” said Isabel,
after a few words of greeting had been spoken.

“ I am glad you were dpleased with them,
Miss Lynde, and I'wishe on to have some
other reminder of me than t e fact that I had
forced you into a compact through your fa-
ther’s misfortunes,” he said, softly.

“ I needed no such reminder, sir, for though I
confess to a certain fretting under compulsory
bonds, I cannot but feel that you nobly served
my father and my poor brother ” and the tears
came into the beautiful eyes of the maiden.

“ Yes, Mr. Moloch, you know all concerning
my poor boy,” said the millionaire, feelingly.

‘ t is to speak of Mr. Harold Lynde, sir, that
brought me to your home, ere the expiration
of the thirty days’ grace I gave your daughter
before her union with me; of course you heard
witl§pleasure of his fortunate escape?”

“ v es and a remarkable one, too.”

“ Per ps Mr. Moloch can tell us who the
daring youth was?” suggested Isabel, in such a
suggestive, significant tone, that it brought the
telltale color into the face of Victor Moloch
who glanced cautiously around the room, and
then said:

“ The Spaniards say that walls have ears,
Miss Lynde.”

Isabel took the hint, and rising passed out of
one door into the music-room and thus by the
hall back into the library, an said:

“ There is no one near, sir, and Richards, our
faithful old butler, would keep watch if he saw
any of the servants inclined to too great curi-
osit ; you do, then, know who the youth was!”

“ es, he was a friend of mine.”

“ Ah! then we bwe to ou thanks for Har-
old’s escape?" said lsabe , quickly, and with
great earnestness.

No, you owe it to the youth.”
A good we to shift the burden OR your

u
u

shoulders. Mr. oloch.’

JUL_E_._THE JEWESS.

 

l “I answer you no, Miss Lynda; the boy did
1 ever thing.”

‘ the Hebrew, with a smile.
“ Pardon me, I had forgotten, when I spoke,
who it was, in the old story, that held the cat’s

l

l

e was but as a cat’s paw in your hands—”  low to 1
“Victor Moloch being the monkey,” suggested I, m DOW-

,.

l

aw to secure the chestnuts; but, seriously, Mr. 3

repay!
“ ou owe me nothing, Miss L do; but al-
low me to tell you that your brot er is safe.”

(I  I”

C‘  ”

“He has left the city, then i” eagerly cried
both father and daughter in a breath.

“ He has; he sailed on a vessel last night,
bound for Rio; I saw him go on board, and
watched the ship sail down the bay.”

“ But, he will be recognized,” said Mr. Lynde,
anxiously.

“Not disguised as he is, for I would never
have known him, had I not myself purchased
his suit, and been on the watch for him, for he
was shorn of his hair and mustache, and shipped
as a common seam n.”

“Poor brother arold !”

“ He is better awn , Miss Lynde.”

“ True, for it woul havo been an ignominious
death to have remained here; but, thank God,
he has gone, and to you, sir, we owe more than
words can ex rcss,” and, rising, Isabel grasped
the hand of ictor Moloch in both her own, and
her father silently wrung the other, and their
gratitude deeply touched the heart of the noble

ebrew, who said, hastily:

“ Your brother shipped as Nick Buntlin, first-
class seamen, on board the clipper ship, Ring-
leader, bound from New York to Rio, and a
letter to that name, Rio Janeiro, will reach
him, and when he writes to you he will address
under cover to me, as a letter directed here,
from a foreign land, would assuredly put the
law-hounds on his scent.

“ This I arranged with him the moment I saw
him on the dock before he sailed last night: now,
I must say good-moaning, as this is a busy day
with me.’

“ Mr. Moloch, we owe all to you sir, and,
bound as I am to on, I hope you will not con-
sider it unmaiden yin me to say that only by a
lifelong devotion can I repay the debt of grati-
tude; come to us whenever on feel inclined,”
and turning uickly Isabel ynde went to her
room, while ictor Moloch, with a heart and
brain on fire, caused by the conflicting emotions
he felt, sprung into is waitin carriage and
was whir ed swiftly back into t e busy stream
of money-making men in the heart of the me-
tropolis.

 

CHAPTER XXX.
ruck BUNTLIN, sums 0N rim momma.

THERE were many, of come, who believed
that the story of the East Indian ne how of
Stanley Grey, assistant keeper at t 6 city
prison, was a concocted story made out of
whole cloth, so to speak.

These same persons booted at the idea, and set
it down in their minds that the keeper had got-
ten a comfortable fortune for his little work in
the escape of the aristocratic and wealthy pris-
oner. '

But the powers that were, the head officials,
had sifted the matter (pretty thoroughly, and
the trunk of papers an clothes, unmistakably
East Indian, the money in it, the absence of the
officer, Dick Hastings, and the clerk, Johnny
Cameron, proved to them conclusively that the
keeper was the victim of a most clever and (lar—
ing plot, and not a confederate in it, and Stan-
ley Grey, at his own re uest, was relieved from
duty at the Tombs, an became a member of
the secret service.

From the hour of his becoming a detective he
set to work to track down those who had vic-
timized him and to capture the escaped prisoner
and day and night he was like a tireless houn
on the scent.

One day he strolled down to the docks, his
eyes Open for an thing of a suspicious nature
for not a single c ew had all the unraveling of
lbtective’s skeins revealed.

“ Hullo, Grey, want to have a run down with
me to Quarantine, for I’d like a talk with you
about the way some shar kid played you.”

The speaker was an 01 (pilot and a friend of
Stanley Grey of long stun ing.

He was on a harbor tug that was about to
carry a party of entlemen down the harbor to
“Meet some big- ug returning from Urup on
the steamer ust signaled from Sandy Hook,”
, as the pilot. ack Fletcher. explained.

 

oloch’, we owe you more than we can ever 1

 

“ I’ll’ go with pleasure, Jack, for the suit 0!
sea air will do me good, and on are a good fel-
get points on in my Ii 9 biz that I am

“ The fired you out then from the prison, old
fellow, elieving you’d made a penny for your
old a e, by saving the aristocrat’s neck?” as-
serteg rather than asked Jack Fletcher.

“ Oh, no; the papers cleared me in full, and
onl those who don’t know chin about my being
bri ed and putting up the whole job; but i left
the dismal den and am now hunting the trail
of the prisoner and the youth who glayed me so
cleverl for a fool which I behave am; but it
seems awful real, Jack, and the b0 did look
so like his dead father as I behave , and like
me and he was so han me.”

“Yes, he must have been, Stan, to have borne
resemblance to on; but come let us 0 on
board,” and leading the way to his pilot- ouse
the comfortable tug, with a gay party on
board, was soon steaming down the harbor for
the lower bay. ‘

Once through the Narrows the steamship was
sighted heading up the harbor, and with a
cheer the tug started for her.

“ What in thunder ails her?” suddenly cried
the ilot.

“ hat is it, Jacki” asked Stanley Grey.

“ Why, her bow is stove in bad, and she’s got
canvas stretched over it to keep out the water-
she’s had a bad collision. I’m thinking, an
from her looks I’m thinking the craft she
struck has gone down.”

Every eye on the tug was now bent with
dee interest upon the coming steamer, that
plainly showed she had met with a serious ac~
cidenti

But she came steadily on, and the party in.
the tu recognizing their friend, the, “ big-bug,”
as J ac called him, cheers were given, the band
played, and the two vessels steamed side by
side back toward the cit .

At Quarantine Jack etcher called to one of
the mates of the steamer whom he knew, and
who was not on duty, to come on the tug, and
tell him about the accident.

“Oh, we ran down a clipper ship last night
in the fog, and she sunk quickly, with some of
her passen ers and crew, while others saved
themselves y jumpi'i on board, and a few we
threw ropes to and pu led out of the water; but
there was one fellow we had to save by sheer
force for he seemed to wish to sink.”

“ What was the matter with him?” asked
Jack Fletcher.

“No one knows; and he was a fine-lookin
seamen too; but we got him on board, an
fearing that all was not right with him the sub-
geon took him in hand, and soon after dis-
missed him, as he found nothing wrong about
him, excepting one thing.”

“And may I ask what was that, sir?” said
Stanley Grey, in spite of himself interested in
the strange seamen.

“Well, he was shipped on the Ringleader,
which was the name of the craft we ran down,

3 a first-class seaman, and under the name of
Nick Buntlin, so his messmates said, and yet
the sur eon let it out that his underclothing was
of the nestsilk, and had two initials embroi—
dered on them.”

“ Guess he stole ’em,” said the pilot, bluntly.

“Then if he did, he stole his handkerchief,

too, for he had one he wore in his shirt pocket, .

and another round his neck, and they were
both embroidered in the same way .’

“He may be some tony fellow in hard luck,”
sug rested the pilot.

“ aybe, or some man who has committed a
crime that makes him hide himself under a
Eailor’s jacket,” responded tho steamer‘s of-

cer. '

The remark caused Stanley Grey to start, and
he asked quickly:

“ What did you say was the name of the ves-
sel you ran down?”

“ The Ringleader.”

“Where bound?”

“ To Rio J aneiro.”

“ When did she leave New York?”

“The night before we run into her; you see

we came the southerly passage across, and a
gale had driven us of! our course to the south-
ard, as we had to depend upon our sails for
two d’siys, owing to an accident toour machi-
nery. ,
“Could you tell me the letters embroidered
on the seaman’s underclothin and handker-
chief?” asked Stanley Grey, With renewed in—
terest.

“This is a hound of the law, mate; in other
words, a detective, and he thinks he’s got a.
scent of a trail he’s been following. and I bores

 

 

 

 

 

J U LE, THE J EWESS.

2‘1

 

he has, for he’s been served a downright shabby
trick of late, and he’s a pard of mine and square
clean through.”

“Do you recall the initials!” repeated Stan-
ley Grey.

“ Oh yes; they were H. L.”

The pilot and the detective glanced know-
ineg at each other, and the former said With
vehemence, preceded by a sailor’s oath:

" I’m durned if you hav’n’t got him, Stan.”

“ Don’t be too sure, Jack: but as the steamer
is going on up to the city now, will you kindly
permit me to go on with you?”

‘: Certainly. ’

"Now, sir, will you point out your strange
seaman, who did not care to be saved from
drowning, and wears silk underclothing?” asked
Stanley Grey, quietly, when the two were on
the steamer’s deck. .

“Certainly; there he stands, leaning over the
bulwark forward.” , _

'l‘ue detective, keeping in concealment him-
self, walked up near to where the strange sea-
man stood, and took a long look at him.

“Well, I am right- that _man is the one,I
want; once I return' him t3 his old quarters I ll

tthe be I’m thin in .
geThus saying, he put is hand in his breast
pocket, andkiirawiggtgut a Derringer pistol,
Ste uic u e seaman. .

13331112 thengapon to his head, he said

sternl .

“ Nkk Buntlin, first-class seaman of the
Rin leader I arrest you.”

“ reat éodl it is as I feared! I have come
back to my doom,” cried the man, bitterly, as
he beheld who confronted him.

“ Yes, Harold Lynde, you have come back to
die on the gallows.

“It had been better for: on bad you gone
d0wn in the hull of the Ring eader.”

" Would to God I had.”

“I do not say amen to that; here, Mr.
Lynde, hold out your hands for the bracelets,”
and the detective drew a pair of steel handcuffs
from his pocket. .

\Vith a shudder, and livid face, but in si-
lence, Harold Lynde obeyed, and one. hour
after he was again an inmate of his cell. in the
Tombs, while Stanle Grey wasreceivmg the
congratulations of a1 upon havmg run down

prey.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
on muons warm morass wasps.

Im a bombshell in a bivouac fell the start-
ling newsu n the cit , of the capture of the
. 18011013 w 0 had so c everly esca d from the
011155. and then, just as clever y eluded all
ursuit and gotten out of the clutches of the
ounds of the law that hunted him down.

Thkpapers were full of the strange capture,
and so r Grey was redeemed in the eyes
of even t e most skeptical, while the “ I—told
‘yourso” busy ton es who bad faith in the
k6BPer were triump ant, and vice versa, were
correspondingly cast down.

The minute“ held it up as an act of Provi-
den.“ ‘50 PrOVODt the prisoner escaping, not
“#11112ti conddelatfim, as do most of those
W 0 “Y "91‘? even nin u n r Pro-
vidence. that several 1i}? werg 153:, £33 a fine
Vessel sunk, With much injury to trade, by the
ca turing of one escaped prisoner. -

n the circles. more deepl interested in the
event, therbrmgm back of Ifarold Lynde to his
10091}? Pmon ‘39 , a t111111 was felt that went
to the heart, for, where old Ezra Quilp gloated
over the circumstance, it was far diam“ with
those who held kindred blood to the prisoner,
and had done so much to aid his m .

la a leasant room of a restaurant, the after.
noon ollowing the recapture of the prisoner,
three persons were seated at a table mg
with edibles of a substantial kind and luxuries,
while “ extra dry ” was sgekling in th. glam

Those three were first, Stanley Gm ,
the detective who had run h game to and,
second, the ilot of the tug that ad invited the
keeperto e the run down the harbor with
him; and third, the second officer of the steam-
ship that had told the story of the running
down of the Ringleader, and of the stran e
mile; on board, who proved to be Haro

e. -
e keeper had received the reward oflered
by the mayor, and Ezra Quin had promptly

id his before ten o’clock that mornu'ifi, and

c three were enjo ' g themselves at 0 ex-

nse of Stanley reg, who had forced upon

is companio as ai to his success, a thorn-
Iand each, an a dinner, at which all was
raking merry over this misery of a human

DR.

 

 

But what is one’s loss is another’s gain, one’s
sorrow another’s joy, one’s food another’s poison,
and thus wags the world along.

In the palatial home of Lynde, the million-
aire, sat in deepest grief the father and sister of
the prisoner, for like a stroke of iron the news
had fallen upon them, and together they were
broodin ovor their sorrow, and seeing in imagi-
nation e hideous gallows rising before them to
take the life of him they loved.

Presently a card was brought in by Richards,
and a leam of pleasure shot over the face of
the  ‘onaire as he glanced at it, and he said

we y:
q “Show him in, Richards; it is Mr Moloch,
my dear.” .

A faint tinge of color came into the face of the
maiden, and rising, she extended her hand to
the handsome youn Jew as he entered.

“I need not ask, r. Lynde, if you know the
sad tidings, for your sorrow is photographed on
your heart,” he said, kindly.

“Yes, we know‘ all, Moloch, and we are glad
you have come, for we know not what to say
or do.”

“ I have come to have a little chat with you,
for I have Wilbur, and all depends now upon
the trial.”

“ So it seems, for money could not buy a
keeper now, I suppose!” .

“ No, they have placed a treble force on duty.
not for fear of a rescue, but upon the Principle
that one keeper must watch another; just left
the Tombs with Mr. Wilbur.”

“ And on have seen my brother?” quickly
asked Isa el.

“ Yes, and he seems despcndent, thou h the
lawyer bids him hope; your son, Mr. . ynde,
spoke of a clergyman who accompanied the
millionaire miser here on his visit, when he
bou ht your notes?”

“ es, a man I am convinced puts on the
liver of the Lord to serve the Devil in.”

” Harold Lynde could not recall his
name.” I

“,1, can; it is Silas Sloan; here is his letter to

e.

“Can I keep this letter?” when he read it,
Victor asked.

“ You can, sir.”

“Thank you; now I must be ofi’, but I frank]
tell you the battle is not lost, and I haVe fait
in young Merton,” and Victor Moloch departed,
both Mr. Lynde and Isabel accompanying him'
to the door, for his visit had been like a ray of
sunshine netrating into their gloomy hearts.

From t e palatial mansion of the millionaire,
I will take my reader to the den of the miser
millionaire, Ezra Quilp, who made gold his god,
and yet would sacrifice it most freely to gain
his revenge.

He had seen by the morning paper that Har-
old Lynde had been taken by keeper Grey, and
he had hastened of! to the Tombs and promptly
paid his reward.

From there he hadfone to his lawyer, whom
he had engaged to ai the District Attorney in
the prosecuton, and told him to leave no stone
unturned to press his enemy to the gallows.

From there he had driven, for the miser mil-
lionaire had become strangely extravagant of
lsalte, to the parsonage of the Reverend Silas

can.

“ Just dro ped in a moment, Sloan, to tell you
that the tri comes 03 next Monday, and you
must 23’s on hand; have you received your sub-

na

“ Y and shall be there.” -

“ Rigl t: there is little you can sag), you know,
other t an that yon dropped in wi me, we be-
ing together, and heard me ask young Lynde
to (pay his notes.”

Young Lynde! you mean the old man!”

“ No, I mean young Lynde, Harold, who is
now in ail.”

“ Ah!

“ That is right, you begin to understand, I see.”

“ But, have you such notes?”

“Oh, yes, they will be roduced at the trial;
well, you heard me ask arold to pay his notes
and he refused, and his father refused, and I
threatened to protest, and they kept me there
until it was too late.’

“ Yes, I heard it all; but, I do not well seehcw
I can be at the trial, as my ministerial duties call
me away; 1you see I am going to the conven-
tion, to old at St. Louis next week, and I
hope to geta few tho‘wands to help along my
church.”

“ Curse your church; here are a con le of
thousand or the comer-stone, so be on and, ‘
and I will give you a written statement of what
you are to say.

“I cannot come for two thousand,as Iwill
get five at the convention."

 

j

" Your testimony is worthless, only it is best
.0 have you there. ’

“'Well, I thank you, Mr. Quilp, for this small
donation to my church, and wish I could be at
the trial, but i cannot, as I would lose five thou-
sand dollars.”

“Curse you, I’ll give you the five thousand
doll;rs,flpaying you the three more when you
test' .

“T e five more.”

“ You have two there.”

“ Why, that was a donation to my dear
church, and—”

“ You are a wolf in sh ’s clothing. Silas
Sloan as I have ever believe on to be.”

“ The clothes flt too, Quilp, t e miser million-
aire, and believing me to be a villain, you sought
me out as an associate.” .

The miser uttered a curse, but answered:

“Well, I will give you five thousand dollars
the day you testif .”

“ You might forget it; give it to me, now.”

“ I will not.”

“ Then I will not testify.”

“ I will give ’you my due-bill for it.”

“ Very well.

The miser millionaire wrote the necessary
paper, and departed.

“ Where now, sir?” asked the driver.

“To m home.”

“ You 've at the old Rhineberg homestead
abs? seyentieth street, don’t you, sir?”

es.

And to his rickety old mansion the miser mil-
lionaire was driven, and there, in the following
chapter, the reader will kindly follow him.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE msna’s eran can. '
“HE! he!” and the miser milliohaire gave a
low chuckle, as he held up several notes and

gazed at them.
The Government bank—note

 

“Hel hel he!
englraver couldn’t give notes that looked more
rea .

“ The old man ave his on his own note-book,
made for him, wit his name printed in one end,
and this is a fac-simile of those he ave me, ex-
cepting the name of Harold Lyn e, instead of
Andrew.

“The engraver charged me well for the
work, but he did it well, and I’ll not complain;
ha! ha! ha! now, Andrew L nde, 1 not only
strike you for robbin me o my bride in the
gait, and having me dnapped, but I hit your

utiful dau hter hard, for her brother dies on
a gallows, an I will be on hand to see bim‘die;
ay I will watch any agony he suffers and it
will be joy to me.

“ Now to get ‘on of the notes of An-
drew Lynde which he paid, and then all will
be well; but I’ll et them, for it was a lucky
idea of mine to a vertise for a daring man to
do a secret service for high pay, and the one I
selected out of the lot who came I know will do
the work; ah! there he comes up the walk
now.

Hastilyoputting his notes awa , the miser
million went to the door an admitted a
red-headed black-eyed, freckle-faced young
man, who looked as wiry as an cal, and was
doubtless, to jud e from his appearance, as
slippery in charac r. ,

‘3Vell, my man, you have come on time, I

“Anna on time when chuck’s ter be made,"
was the laconic response.

“ Good! now do you scare easiin

u Try no."

" No, no, I don‘t wish to do that; but you are
willing, as you told me when here this morn-
ing to do a little job for me that requires a
cool head, light fingers, and nerve.”

“ I has em all.”

“You look it; now about your conscience.”

“ My what!"

nearer-1,..-

11
“Your come, ctionsl”
:: Never” any. ”

“If the ’s good then I’ll get some.”

“You on’t understand me; I mean do W
commit a crime and then t sorry about it

“ I hain’t such a darn fool; ef I was going
ter be sorry I wouldn’t do it.”

“You are a fine fellow; now I want you to
break into a house.”

(6 

“ And rob a safe.”

“ That’s nothiu’ ter do.”

“You are a thorough scamp I see.”

“Yes weisagood alike, boss.”

“We’ll not discuss that, for I don’t wish b
benefit byyour robbery;Ionlywidi toast

 

 

22

JULE. THE JEWESS.

 

 

 

hold of some papers, and all the money you find
in the safe you can have for yourself. ’

“ Might not find none.”

“ Oh, yes, you will.”

“I must get chuck for ther job; if I finds
money. them is my perquisites.”

“ I’ll give you one hundred dollars.”

“ How much money will I find in the safe?”

“ Suveral thousand dollars; erhaps more.”

“ Then he would give more or me not to rob
it: guess I’ll do the job for him.”

it ‘Vhogn

“The man who owns the safe.”

The miser millionaire knew that he had been
caught by a villain who was his superior in
shrew diiess, and he said at once:

*‘ I’ll give you fivs thousand for the job and
what you find there.”

“Good! I’ll do it: who is he, where does be
live, how many in family, what hours do they
keep and has they dogsi’

Like a chain made of links these questions
came out, and nearly took the miser’s breath;
but after awhile he answered them all, gave a
plan of the house and room in which was the
safe, and the young man departed, promising
to do the work that night.

When he had gone Quin need to and fro,
churkling‘ to himself, as he knew that a few
more days only and Harold Lynde would be
brought to trial and certainly be hanged, for he
had woven around him a web of guilt that no
testimony could break down.

“ When that red-headed oung scampbrin
me the notes of old Andrew ynde I am rea y
for the trial, and then, all ye of the name of
Lynde, woe be unto you; hai there comes that
beautiful Jewess. whom I have not seen ' for
several days; I will meet her at the door, and
see what s e thinks of the capture of the young
aristocrat.”

( Suing to the door the miser saluted Jule, the
Jewess, who was coming in with a. basket of
marketing upon her arm.

“ You are still alone, Miss Jule?” he said, in-
quiringly.

‘1 Yes, sir, but my mother and uncle return
tomorrow. ’

" Indeed! they have made quite a stay.”

“Yes, longer than they expected; but then
they went to Baltimore to trace up some old
property of my father’s, that was worthless
twenty years ago, and had been forgotten, but
which is now quite valuable.”

“ And they got it, Miss Jule?”

“ Yes, after some little trouble.”

“ I congratulate you upon your good fortune
for I have feared you were not in the best 0
circumstances ,and, as you did me a good turn
I intend to re uee your rent to twenty instea
of twenty-five er month.” _

“ You will 0 no such thin , Mr. Quilp, for

* neither my mother or.myse acce t favors,
and, besides, we are in no need,’ said the
maiden,hau htily. '

“ indeed! really hoped on were, so I could
serve you; you saved my 'fe, and that would
take off sixty dollars for the year.” ;

“ You value your life cheaply, Miser Quilp;
but then, reading our nature. as I do, I think

on are one to go any extreme in remember-

ng an injury, but have a convanient memory
to ("meet a favor done you.” '

“ W’h , you are severe, young woman,” 531d
Quilp, s arply. _

' “ltrytobejust.” .

“I will not quarrel with you, for I admire
you too much; so let us change the subject;
what do you think of the recapture of Mr.
Harold Lynde—a clever piece of detective work,
was it not?” I

“No, it was an accidental ca tare only; his
trial begins next Thursday, I be ieve.”

“ Yes, and on are subpoenaed to a pear.”

“I receiver my summons and shall be there.”

“ Your testimony will be most valuable to
me and I shall pay 'you well for it.”

‘ Thank you, sir.

“My lawyer will outline for you what you
are to testify to.”

H Yes.”

“So that there will be no mistake.”

Jule, the chess, made no reply, but went on
into her room, while the miser, too nervous to
remain at home, went out for a w

CHAPTER XXXI.
rm: REVEREND snoan RECEIVES A CALL.
I'r was a neat little parsona e which the con-
gregation of the Reverend loan rented for
their bachelor'pastor, for he, was a great favor-
ite with his flock, for he was always leading his
lambs to shad pastures and cool streams as

hpicnics,” “fesytivals,” and “ excursions ” ere
frequently indulged in.

i

‘ the most direct road to the heavenly kingdom.

\

' He had “ picked up,” so to speak, talking

gman of fascinating address, and certainly a
‘ scholar, he had interested several men of influ-
ence who heard him, and then gave him a call .
to their little chapel, which had just split OK i
from the foundation rock, owing to some dis- 
agreement among the flock, as to which was l

Asmall furnished cotta e and a thousand a
year was what Silas Sloan s congregation paid

im, and they considered him worth the money,
and fed him on the hope of a raise of salary,
should he be convinced that it was not right for
man to live alone and take unto himself a wife.

Knowing that the vestrymen had held out
this bait to the minister, the widows and virgins
of the congregation kept their lamps trimmed
and burning sous not to be caught unawares by
the handsome young divine; but he fought shy
of any one bright particular star, though he
doated on perhaps two-score collectively, with
perhaps a leaning toward the ugliest girl in the
churc , who had the largest purse.

Seated in his sanctum one mornin . , the
Saturday previous to the day set for arold
Lyndc’s trial, Biddy O’Fidget, the maid-of-all-
work and good at none, in the pious parsonage
and whom the arguments of the clergyman had
i'ailed to win over from Catholicism, came in
with the announcement:

“A gintlemin ter say your riverince, What is
no riverince at all, sayin’ as yeez is not either
bein’ a priest 0’ the church, sur.”

"Who is it, Bridget?”

“ Divil a loikes 0’ me knows at all, sur.”

“ One of the dear souls under my keeping, a
supposei"

‘ No, sur, he’s a man.”

“ Ask him in, please.”

Bridget obeyed at once, and a dashing, hand-
some man entered the room, and said politely:

“ Mr. Sloan, I believe?”

“Yes, sir, I am the Reverend Silas Sloan, an
humble worker in the great vineyard of my
Heavenly Master.”

“ You are the one I have come to see, sir; are
we alone?” asked the stranger. '

“ We are, sir. ”

The stranger stepped quickly to the door, and
opening it, Miss Bridget O’Fidget came sprawl-
ing into the room, having been leaning heavily
against it with her ear to the kcvhole.

“Holy hither, cr riverince, I’m havin’ a fit,
I am, for I was a ther comin’ to tell yeez there
was no paraties fer dinner, when at dizziness
seized me all ter wunst, and I was afther tum-
blin’ inter ther room,” and Biddy looked as in—
nocent as the most pious member of the pastor’s

“ Well, try that caper once more and I’ll
seize you, and the fit would be preferable,”
sternly said the visitor, and he escorted the
crushed Bridget to the door, and saw her de-
scend to the culinary de the below, and, to the
surprise of the ReVei'en Silas, without a word
in reply; but the visitor had suddenl shown
the servant a badge which she un erstood,
having on several occasions been in the lock-
up irom a too great fondness for the cup that
doth inebriatc. _

“ Now my reverend sir, to the little matter
for which I called: on are a witness, I believe,
in this trial of the tate versus Lynde?”

“ I expect to he, sir, and Mr. Quin asked me
to hold some conversation with his lawyer as
to whether my testimony would be valuable to
him.” ' ~

“I am a lawyer, sir and u
your bein a Witness 1 ave
what will your testimony?”

“ Yes :2 I saw Quilp tender the notes for pay-
ment, and they Were refused.”

“ Mr. Andrew Lynde refused them?”

“ He refused to pay them for his son.”

“Ahl the were his son’s notes then!”

“Yes as understand it.”

“And why were you with Mr. Quilpi”

“Accidentally meeting, he asked me to 30-
oom any him.”

i: hi Reverend Richard Ellis—”

Great God i”

“ I repeat the name; Reverend Richard Ellis,
I 'see you have not improved since on were
dismissed from the Theological Sem nary for
evil-doing: on the contrary you have retro-

aded, and it becomes me, as an officer of the
. w, to ask you to hold out your hands for these
bracelets.”

“ Heaven havs mercy upon me !” groaned the
lman, andhis head sunk upon the table before

im. ' ,

"Do not call upon that Heaven which your

n account of
ed; may I ask ,

 

 

actions have outraged. sir: I have it in my

G-os- i power to send you to Australia under thm
, 1 and temperance to the public who tarried = charges, which wfll pyt
l, y the waySide, and, an eloquent preacher, a your hair turns 81‘9- ‘-

Vyou in prison until

‘Mercyl mercy!

“I have it in my power to put you on trial
here for being a fraud, and thus taking money
under the pretense of being a Christian.

“ I know your career, Richard Ellis, and that
you have deceived your congregation meet

I thoroughly.

“Had you been living a true life here you
might have escaped; but I know all that you
are.

“ Who are you?” groaned the unhappy man.

“I am one who shall insist upon keeping an
eye upon on for a short while, sir.”

“ Lord ave mercy, for I am utterly undone,”
and the man with livid face began to sob as
though his very chest would burst with the in-
tensity of his emotions.

The visitor looked at the renegade minister
without one atom of sympathy in his handsome
face, and, after awhile said coldly:

“Calm yourself, sir, for I wish to have a talk
with on.

“ on have then arrested me?" gasped the

an.

“Yes, you can consider yourself under arrest,
as I am an oflicer of the secret service as well as
a lawyer.”

“ And will bring me to trial?”

“You certainly deserve it, sir, for you are a
most bare-faced villain, although you wear a.
ministerial garb: but, as I said before, I wish
to have a talk with you and then we will de-
cide what is to be done; now, what does inilp-
give you to testify in his behalf?”

" Sir!” said the minister, angrily. -

“ That is right; get angry at me for suspect-
ing you of taking a bribe,” sneer ed the visitor.

“1 am not in the habit, sir, of being paid to-
give testimony in a case which accident liladB'
me a Witness in.”

“ I say it was not accident, but design."

The minister dropped his eyes before the-

piercing gaze fixed upon him, but said:
‘6

It was an accidental meeting with Mr.
Quil .”

“You had met him before, I know, but once,
and that was when you knew that one of your
parislioners, who owed him largely, was going
to fail, and went to him and told him, 50 that
he got his money, while others suil‘rrcd; for
that you were paid by the miser, and this made
him go to you when he wanted some dirty
work done.”

“ As what, for instance?”

“Performing a secret man-in go between him
and the daughter of the man he intended to‘
crush, and whose son he will hang if it is in his
pawcr to do so.”

Again the man dropped his eyes; but after a
moment said: '

“You led me to believe that you were a law--
yer, sent by the miser, and therefore J". spoke
openly to you ”

“I led you to believe nothing? of the kind;
Quilp had called on you, and I knew you were;
to testify for him, and I sought you out.”

“ And who are you?” ‘

“ I am a lawyer, I said.”

-“ Have we ever met beforei”

“Yes.

'“ When I was reading law I was sent by the
gentleman in whose office I was to England on
egal business for him: from there it culled me
to Australia, and on board were some English
criminals sent to prison in the colonies.

“ You were among the number, and a gentle-
man on the Vessel, who had known you when
you took holy orders, and afterward was at
your trial for forgery, told me your history,
and that you had escaped from rison in Aus-
tralia, and they were taking on ck.

“I remember now, that w en I returned to
this city,‘in an Australian paper sent me, I
read of your escape a second time, and when I
saw ’you on the street yesterday I recognized

on :

“And you are not then an Australian of-
flcer sent after me?” eagerly said the degenerate
minister.

“ No, I have the honor to be an Aperican. a.
member of the New York bar, also one of the
secret service bureau, and my name is Merton.
Wilbur.” ,

“ Hal you are the lawyer of Harold Lynde in
his trial next week?”

“ Yes Reverend Richard Ellis alias Silas
Sloan, I’am Mr. Harold Lynde’s lawyer in the
coming trial, and you will prove a valuable
witness.”

 

 

 

 

 

JULE, THE JEWESS.

28

 

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TRIAL OPENS.
ALL New York was agog with excitement,
for the trial. of Harold Lynde, the young aristo-
crat and millionaire, was to begin that morn-

g.

At an early hour the court-room was crowded
to suffocation, and at ten o’clock the trial began.

Upon one side eat the District Attorney, de-
fending the State, and aided by a. lawyer who
stood at the head of the legal profession, and
who had been engaged by Quilp, who un-
- hesitatingly aid the extravagant fee demanded
ior his value. 1e services.

Between them sat the miser millionaire him-
self, dressed in a new suit, and with his face full
of cunning deli rht, while he was the c nosure
of all eyes until better game appears in the
person of the prisoner.

Upon the other side was Judge Graham, the
peer and rival in legal lore of Quilp’s lawyer,
and next to him sat the prisoner, calm, pale,
and with eyes cast down, for well he knew how
a? was regarded by four-fifths of the peOple

ere. .

Next to him was Merton Wilbur, his hand-
some, intelligent face full of hope for his client,
and attracting considerable attention, for. a
young lawyer unknown to fame, by his dismi-
gué appearance. .

Behind these were Andrew Lynde, the mil-
lionaire, and his beautiful daughter, whose
beauty, however, was vailed from sight.

Not far distant was the wife of Detective
Dade, whom Harold Lynde had killed, and at -
her side were her four fatherless children, all in
deepest mourning, the said black attire being
apresent from Quilp, who felt that those five
.would win useful sympathy from the public,
and more especially the jury who were to Sit
on the case. .

"At length the case was called; those impan-
neled for the jury-box were called one by one,
challenged or accepted by the watchful attor-
neys, and at last thetwelve were made up, and
certainly they Were “twelve good men and
true,” which is not the usual case in trials, as
more ignorance is frequently found among men
whom the law calls to try their fellow-beings
for crimes they are charged with, than among
any other work that mankind may he picks
out to perform.

From the first it seemed a foregone conclusion
that Harold Lynde was to hang for his crime,
and the gamblers who haunt court-rooms to
make wagers on the result would offer no odds
in favor of acquittal, and betting was conse-
quently light.

The shrewd and able District Attorney, with
the lawyer engaged by the millionaire miser
called their Witnesses, and one by one they tol
their story.

First came Quilp himself, with a manufac
tured eVidence of his having, at difl'erent times
adtveanced Harold Lynde money on his person
no s. .

“And Where are those notes, Mr. uil ?”
asked Judge Gmham; but, before replygcogld
be made,“ telegram called the judge away to
fie his Wife, who had been suddenly taken very
d Reps was a contretempn, for what was to be

one

The udge on the bench, from
would ave adJourned the case but Judge Gm-
ham stated that his assocmte, , Mel-ton vvu-
bur, was fully capable of going on with“, and
he hoped to soon return. I

All eyes turned upon the young lawyer: but
he seemed as cool as andcicle, and, bidding
Judge Graham farewell, immediately turned
and repeated his question: ‘

“And where are those notes,  Quflpr’

They were at once produced nine in all, and
ooverm the sum which Quin had vanced to
the mill onaire himself,land not to t e son,

The young lawyer glanced at them coolly,
and then the miser went on to state how they
had been'refused payment b the drawer, and
then b the millionaire, an that that very
night garcld Lynde had ridden to his home,

sympathy,

mbed to his rooms and 'ned entrance, and
would have taken his life ut for the arrival of
one person whom he would produce as witness,

to cOI'I'Oborate his words.
Vera-l unimportant witnesses were then
called, to. prove that they knew Quilp had
“0‘06 of Harold L de in his on, and
then the Reverend ‘las Sloan was told to go to
the witness stand. .
Or some moments he could not be found, and
n he entered hastily and seemed nervous and
paleafol‘ one whose calling brought him con-
mn y before the public.

 

"mu Sloan. you were with Mr. Ezra Quilt)

when he visited the Lynde mansion to request
the payment by Mr. Harold Lynde of his notes?"
asked the district attorney.

“ I was, sir, but I was under the impression
that Mr. Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, was
the drawer of those notes.

The answer caused Ezra Quilp to turn livid;
what could it mean that his witness should
make such a mistake, he asked himself. hur-
riedly, and then whispered to his lawyer, who
inquired:

‘Mr. Sloan, who was in the room at the
time?”

“ Mr. Quilp. the Messrs. Lynde and myself. ”

“ And Mr. Harold Lynde refused payment of
the notes?”

“ N o, sir, his father {aid the notes.”

Here was a bombs ell, and Quilp was livid
with rage, and, after a hasty conversation, Mr.
Silas S oan was withdrawn from the witness
stand, the public believing him to betoo devoted
to Gospel to understand law, and a sad blun-
derer for the side that had summoned him.

“ I will call on the Reverend Silas Sloan
anon," said Merton Wilbur, with a smile, and
then Miss Jule Naomi was called to the stand.

She walked forward, aCCOmpanied b Victor
Moloch, and calm] took her seat. She was
dressed in a black silk, trimmed with lace, wore
a jaunty bonnet and a vail, which she was re-
quested to raise.

Already her exquisite form had attracted uni-
versal admiration, but, when she calmly raised
her vail, and her beautiful face, a little flushed,
was revealed, a hum of leased surprise ran
round the room, and Isa l Lynde said ex-
cited] to her father:

“ by, it is my old schoolmate, Jule, the
Jewess.”

In consideration of her known religion, the
oath was not administered by the New Testa-
ment but upon the Old, and then the district at-
torney explained to her that as Mr. Harold
Lynde was being tried for the killing of Detec‘
tive Dede, all circumstances attending to the
case were being brought in, as the case of his
alleged attempted assassination of Ezra Quilp
hinged on the death of the detective.

“ I believe, Miss Naomi, that on have rooms
in the house of Mr. Ezra Quilp. ’ asked the dis-
trict attorney.

“ I live with my mother and my uncle, sir, in
rooms rented from Mr. Quilp,” was the reply,
in a rich voice that reached every car in the
room.

“Upon the night of Thursday, the 10th of
last month, where were you, may I ask?” ~

" At home, sir.”

“ You will state to the court what scene you
witnessed in Mr. Quilp's room, who were
there, and what on did. ’

“Sir!” and Jo e’s eyes flashed as she turned
them upon the attorney.

In surprise be repeated the question, and then
came the answer:

“Mr. Ezra Quin has made overtures of
money to me, sir, to state his case as he wished
it; I refused and I now refuse to speak at all.”

A wild excitement 1pervaded the court-room.
for the words of Ju e, the Jewess, fell like a
thunderbolt upon all, and the livid miser, after
another hastil whispered conversation with his
lawyers. aske to have the maiden withdrawn
from the stand for awhile, and it was done
Merton Wilbur waiving a cross-examination of
her for the present.

It was evident that Whatever the ideas of the
public might beu n the uiltof Harold Lynde,
as far as the hi] in of etective Dade went,
the case of the mil ionaire miser, Ezra lep
was weakening, for, if his witnesses showed
weakness under the questions of his own at-
torneys, what would not they do when turned
over to the dashing lawyer of the young aristo-
cratf

crimp. xxxm.
ORDER FALSE canons.
Amp. a recess, in which the starting in of
the trial was excitedly discussed, an .Ezra
Quilp and his satellites rushed frantically

around, in a vain endeavor to find Jule, the 1
Jewess, and Parson Sloan, court was a am :
Ogena‘h and all resumed their seats as be ore,
t e m l

ionaire miser pale and nervous, after

the unexpected rebuffs he had met from the

witnesses he had summoned for the prosecu-

tion, and antic'ipating more trouble from them,

when Merton ilbur got them into his sarcastic

19281 gripe, so to speak. ‘

The first witness called by the defense was
Levi Cohen, a bank messenger, and a Hebrew.

He a’ peared to be a youth of nineteen, with

a ban e taco. mustache and curhnk hair.

I
l

I

l
l

 

and he spoke in a quick, terse manner that car-
ried weie ht with his words.

“ Mr. Cohen, I believe you were authorized
to pay Mr. Ezra ilp the amount of the notes
of Mr. Andrew ynde, and the interest ac-
cumulated upon them?” said Merton Wilbur.

“ I was, sir.”

“ What was the interest on those notes!"

“Usurious in the c eme; ten per cent. for
six months,” was  uick reply, and i:
brought the other side to t eir feet with objec-
tions, but alread had the shot hit the target.

“ M ' to sell, I believe?”

“Did you offer him the full value of notes
and interest?” .

“I offered him double the amount, and even
more.”

“You seemed anxious to get the notes, sir,”
sneered the lawyer of Quilp.

“ I was acting for a. friend of Mr. Andrew
Lynde—”

“ You mean Mr. Harold Lynde?”

“No, I mean Mr. Andrew Lvnde, the mil-
lionaire, for they were his notes.”

The District Attorney and his associate both
glanced at Quilp, who was now painfully ner-
vous.

There was something in all this which they
could not understand.

“Why the anxiety of your friend to serve
Mr. Lynde, Mr. Cohen?”

“Because he knew that the miser-millionaire
held him and his fairly in his power, and in.
tended to bring them to his nefarious terms.”

This was ev1dently a bad witness for Quilp,
and so all in the court-room thought, when, af-
ter a few more questions, he was allowed to de-
part, and every eye followed him as he went
out of the court-room, followed by Victor Mo-

loch.

Next, the Rev. Silas Sloan, whom Quilp had‘
been unable to find at noon, was called, and he
took the stand, more self-possessed than be-
fore. -

“Mr. Sloan, may I ask why you accompanied
Mr. Ezra Quilp to the home of Mr. Andrew
Lynde, the night in question?” asked Merton
\\ ilhur.

“I was requested by Mr. Quilp to accompany
him to perform the ceremony of marriage, and,
from all I understood after my arrival, it was
his intention to force Mr. Lynde to give him his
daughter.”

“ What power held he over Mr. Andrew
Lynde?” asked the young lawyer, when the‘
bum following the announcement 0'. the witness
had subsided.

“ He held notes of Mr. Andrew Lynde, cover-
ing every dollar he was worth and was to sur-
render them only upon his, . Quilp’s, mar-
rin re with Miss Lyme” I

ere was another shot that struck home, but”.
the Voting lawyer quickly asked:

“ What was done about the notes?"

“ To the fury and surprise of Mr. Quilp, Mr,
Andrew Lynde had, in some way, secured the
money to pay the notes, and taking them up,
drove the miser-millionaire from the house."

A laugh at the name applied to Quilp min-
gled with the exclamations of surprise at the'
words of the minister, and ever eye turned
upon Ezra Quilp, whose face was 'ke marble.

“ W as aught said of notes of Mr. Harold
Lynde, the prisoner?”

:gligrxawas npt, sin." kin

i r. ui ca 11 n as on to
testif in thigcasg?" p0 you, g y ,

“ e Ipaid .me to testify, sir, and here is the
money 9 paid down, and his duebill for more,
and which I now return to him.”

Merton Wilbur simply took the mone and
paipjer and handed both to the judge, and, then
so :

“ That is all, Mr. Sloan, and I thank you, sir.”

With a sigh of relief the minister left the wit;-
ness-box, and next there was called to the stand
a youth whom the reader once saw in conversa-
tion With Ezra Quilp in his rooms, and plotting
the breaking into a private house and robbing
the safe of certain pa

The appearance 0 the youth was not pro-
possessing, for his clothes were by no means of
a fashionable cut, his face was freckled, and
looked decidedly soiled, his red hair was un-
kempt, and his black eyes alone seemed to re-
.deein him from a picture of arrant deviltry.

“ You have met Mr. Quin then, I believe?”
asked Merton Wilbur, with a smile, as he row
garded the witness. '

“ I have."

“ When and where!"

“Some days ago in his shaky old house.”

“ What werayou doing there?”

“He hired me.”

 

 

24

“For what rpose"

“To breakpi‘h the house
the millionaire, and rob the safe.”

“ Rob it of what?”

:gagers for him; the luc’re I was to have.”

“I aidy’ou get the papers?

“ And the money?”

“ I ot it.”

“ hat did you do with all!”

“ (lave the papers to Quilpy and kept the cir-
mlating medium.”

It was evident that this witness was a startling

one, even to the judge; but Merton Wilbur, per~ ‘

fec‘tlvy;r t(1:00], wenthon to ask: an
‘ at were t e pa rs ou ve i”
“Notes of Andrew feyndye whim}? p

“By his own words he has committed bur-
glary,” muttered Quilp’s lawyer, but, with a
smile, Merton Wilbur asked:
“ So you are a burglar, are you?”
at No. ,

“ You broke into the house of Mr. Lynde and
according to the newspaper accounts, opened
getsa’i’e with false keys, robbing it of its con-

n s.

“I did nothing of the kind; I went to Miss
Isabel Lynde, told her what i] p had hired me
todo, and her father was ta on into my plot,
for Ihad formed one, and he 0 ned the safe,
gave me the money, but not t e notes, but in
their place fac-simi es of them with three ex-
ceptions, the description of properties named in
the genuine one, the date, which was put back
skillfully twenty years, by making a 5 resemble
a 3, and the signature, which was somethin in
Mr. Lynde’s styleof autograph but read An rea
Lyndsay, instead of An rew Lynda.

“ These I gave to Mr. Quin believing, as he
did, that he would find them the genuine ones,
and Mr. Lynde reported the robbery of his safe
to the papers. ”

For some moments the excitement caused by
this strange testimony was intense, and rising,
Merton Wilbur said:

“ Your honor it seems that we are trying
the wrong man in this case, and that Mr. Quin
seems to be the real criminal' but that my wit-
ness may be proven of good character, I beg
that he appear in his true character.”

. A motion was then made to the witness, and
all came the red wig, and sandy mustache, and
a little rubbing of the face revealed a pure com-
plexion, while an outburst was heard on all
sides as the beautiful face of Jule, the Jewess,
gshfid, but calm, glanced at the judge on the
A nc

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.

m VERDICT.

WHEN Ezra Quin the miser millionaire, saw
who it was that he. so cleverly deceived him,
he attempted to leave the court-room- but the
quick eye of Merton Wilbur detected t 0 move-
ment and he cried out:

“May it lease the court I think it is neces- .

sar that r. Quillp remain here.”

‘ Mr. Quil wi remain ” said the judge,
sternly, and hen Merton Wilbur continued:

“I would ask the witness to explain regard-
ing the alleged notes of Mr. Harold Lynda in
the on of Mr. Ezra uil .”

“ . Quilp,” said Jule, t e ewess, in a far
different tone and manner from what she had
used under her di uise, “loaned me a paper
which he said he wi ed returned.

“After reading it I took it to his room, but
no answer coming to my knock, I tried the door
and found it unlocked.

“Entering I laid the pa r upon his table
and air syg‘yss “nagging s quanuty of
notes ying ere chain w ch, 11 exami-
nation, for I was p 0t 3 than ago. his p ot
to ruin the L ndes proved to he notes with the
signature of . Harold Lynda.

“l‘hese I saw had been written over and
over again, and were in diner-ant stages of com-
pletion, while gas were filled with the signa-
aure copies, un ‘ at last it was a perfect imita-

on.
“Some of these notes, cast aside as not and
enough, and a page of these signatures I k
with me, carryin the paper back, not to let
Mr. Quilp know I ad been in his room.”

“And where are the i” asked the District
Attgdrney, sternly, for e was in no pleasant
m

0 .

“ In the poasession of Mr. Merton Wilbur, to
whom I gave them.” ,

The oung lawyer handed them over to the

other do for examinatio and then the were
are *° “w 1mm ‘“ °°k°d
ggers at the who at like

sue dumfoandsd.

 

of Andrew Lynda,

 

JULE. THE JEWESS.

The witness was turned over then to the Dis-
trict Attorney, but only a few unimportant ques-
tions were as ed her, and she do arted from the
court-room, to reappear in hal an hour as her

‘ natural self, accompanied by Victor Moloch
! and her mother, who had returned with her
’ brother from Baltimore to be amazed at all that

had transpired in her household during her ab-
sence, bu was too deeply interested in both
Jule and Victor Moloch to say or do au ht to
prevent the carT'ng out of their plot to t wart
the deviltry f t e millionaire miser.

In the mean time, during the temporary ab-
sence of Jule Merton Wilbur had called upon
Mr. Andrew Lynda and Isabel, to corroborate
her testimony, and both had done so, acknowl-
edging however that they had never suspected
her of being other than a shrewd urchin, and
had placed confidence in him only, as he brought
a letter from Mr. Merton Wilbur.

Then, in a brilliant manner, and with telling
sarcasm the youn lawyer arraigned Ezra
Quilp, the miser m' ionaire, for his plot to re-
venge himself upon Andrew Lynde, for a wrong
done in the far past, and having carried it so
far as to accuse Harold Lynde of attempted
assassination.

Though knowing the truth "on this point,
Merton Wilbur spoke of it with the utmost
ridicule, for he knew upon that hinged the
after deed of the prisoner, and booted the idea
of a man attempting to kill another for a debt
he did not owe.

To show the plot of the miser millionaire in

all its deviltry, he called upon the rich young ‘

Hebrew banker, Mr. Victor Moloch, to show
that he had Sent Jule, the J ewess, disguised as a
Jewish youth, and bank messenger, to pur-
chase, at any price the notes of Andrew L do,
and which even the miser’s greed of go (1 al-
lowed him to refuse, his greed of revenge being
greater.

In a clear, logical, eloqluent manner, he laid
the whole plot of the mi lionaim miser before
the jury, admittin the temporary embarrass-
ment of Andrew ynde for money, and then
showing that his enem , and boyhood compan-
ion, Ezra Quilp, inten ed his ruin, and to hu-
miliate him by making him give him his daugh-
ter to save all from wreck.

Failing in this, Merton Wilbur sh0wed forci-
bly, that the miser millionaire had brought the
char 6 of attempted assassination against Har-
old ynde, and which his own witness had said
he had offered her payment to testify to, as had
the Reverend Silas Sloan also testified, and pre-
sented proofs of being bribed to appear as wit-
ness.

Then Merton Wilbur turned to the main
charge, that of murder, and showed how a war~
rant, sworn out by Ezra Quilp, had been placed
in the hands of a detective, who was sent at
ni ht to serve it.

nd here he again called Jule, the J ewess, to
rove that she had overheard, when seated at
er window, Ezra Quilp tell the detective that
he would give him, the day of Harold Lynde’s
death by hanging on the gallows, ten thousand
dollars, if he would push it to the bitter end.

Armed with his warrant and this generous
promise of blood-money, said the young law-
yer, in withering tones, the detective had
gone to the happy home of the millionaire mer-
chant, called yonn Lynda from his dinner, and
then what occurr , as but one only could tell
the pkrisoner, he would ask that that one should
spea .

With a marble-like face, and in a voice that
was distinct, Harold Lynda said, while not the
rustle of a fan was heard in the crowded room:

é‘ I went into the thoall and found there a man
W OIW llflkHOW me.

‘ was resell he ssised
and said, militia: ‘pp '4' m’

“ ‘ You go wit me, Harold Lynds.’

“ At the same time he attempted to handoui!
mez and placed a pistol to my head.

‘ Istruek aside the irons. grasped his pistol
hand, and drawing a was 1:, which the t rest

Q a can me to arm myself
with that day, shot him, as I behaved, to save
my own life, for he showed me no apers of ar-
rest, and was, I thought, sent to ke my life

lby some foe, orto kidnap me forransom mone .

“ He fell dead atm shot and, excited, hard y
knowing what I di , for was, urged by my
father and sister to fly, I threw on a disguise
and sought safety in flight, but should u n
thought afterward, have returned and de 'v-
ered myself up.”

The story was breathlesst listened to, and,
whatever might have been its truth, it carried

weight with it, for the plot of uilp
against the L miss, and the testimon of ale,
the Jewess. t t Detective Dada been of-

,at his request to see her

 

 

\ ‘7'

fared ahrihe to aid to ban the prisoner, was
sufficient to gain the sympa ies 0 one and all.

Knowing the weakness of the char es against
the aristocratic prisoner, as they had 11 made
to appear by the brilliant handling of the case
by the young lawyer, the judge charged in a
manner that impressed the jury toward acquit-
tal, and, without leaving their seats, the verdict
was rendered:

“ Not guilt I”

The followmg mornin there were numerous
comments upon the tria and the result in the
morning paper, and all credit was 'ven to the
darin and skillful entra ping of a Quilp,
b Ju e, the Jewess, and t e brilliant and most
e uent defenSe of the prisoner by Merton
Wi bur, who at once sprung into great promi-
nence as a lawyer.

In conclusion, one of the morning journals re-
marked:

“ We learn that Ezra Quilp, better known as the
miser millionaire, was arrested at once upon the
charges of for ery, blackmailing, conspiracy to
ruin. pergury an false accusation, and knowin the
ability 0 the distinguished young lawyer, Mr. er-
ton Wilbur sought to have him as his attorney, an
honor the legal ii ht, that has so suddenly soa
into popularity an fame, respectfully declined."

Another article read:

“ Mr. Hamid Lynde, just set free after his trial,
which all believed wou d send him to the gallows,
and to esca which caused him to make so clever
an escape rom prison. and the secret of which is
still a mystery to the public, sails for Europe in to
da‘y‘s steamer; we wish him ban [pr/yoga.

Another passenger also sails in the same
steamer, and one whom his congregation will regret
to part with, as the Reverend Silas Sloan has many
friends in our city.

“ But Mr. Sloan claims ill-health as the cause of
his sudden resignation from the pastorate of his
church, and says his determination is to retire from
the ministry altogether."

So much for the newspa r comments, whose‘
keen-eyed reporters coul not see behind the
scenes, or discover the wheel within. the wheel,
which my romancing en, in the next install-
ment of my story, w: l unfold to the patient
reader, who has thus far followed me in my
ower true tale of ill-omeued lives.

CHAPTER XXXV.
A DOUBLE SECRET DIVULGED.

WHEN Harold Lynde left the court-house.
free man, he drove rapidly to his home, accom-
panied by his father and sister, anxious to avoid
the congratulations his friends desired to shower
upon him.

Calm outwardly, his brain was yet in a whirl,
and his heart beat tremulously, for he knew
that the skill and daringlof Jule, the J ewess, and
Merton Wilbur alone ad saved him from the

allows, and that in intent he was guilty and
eserved punishment.

At dinner he barely tasted his food, refused
his wine, and ordering his horse saddled, rode
rapidly away as soon as it was dark, leaving his
father and meter to pack up his traps, as he had
made kn0wn his determination to sail upon the
followin day for Europle.

Straig t to the old ome of Ezra Quin he
rode, and dismounting knocked for admittance.

The door was opened b Mother Naomi, and
au hter, she ushered
him up-stairs into her sitt ng-room. and he
found himself face to face with the beautiful
J ewess, who seemed surprised at his entrance.

“Jule,” he said, earnestly, “I owe you my
life, for you aided by Merton Wilbur, saved me
from the gallows.

“I am an innocent man now, in the eyes of
the world; but in your eyes I am guilty, for
you know all that I am.

“The story of repentance at the last. as the
this: on the cross. which with our creed, on
do not believe, shall be true my case, or,
from today 1 am a changed man, and I wish to
live for you.

“I love you with all my heart, and I implore
you to return that love, and go with me as my
wife far from here, and let me devote my re-
maining years to your hap iness; will on go,
Jule, or must I. 0 alone to the wor d, with
your image only :1 my heart?”

She listened to his impassioned language with-
out a look, act or word of interruption until
he had finish , and then she said softly, but

1 :

i‘f‘ {on must go alone, for I can never be your
w e. .

“Iknow that you say another claims you as
his promised bride, but I know too all that you
have done for me proves that you love me.”

Ere reply could be made a third person on-
m the room and advanced to where they
I

 

 

 

  

 ._ J3,

 

JULE, THE JEWESS.

.‘z a. “a: 3".“ .4,

 

25

 

 

 

It was Victor Moloch, and he was very pale;
but he said quietly:

“ Jule, from the adjrn'ning room I overheard
the avowal of love made by Mr. Lynde, and I
have a word to say, and say it now, as I believe
I know the secret of your heart, and it gives me
19):. for I feared togive you pain by a confes-
sion I must make.

“ Mr. Lynde, to ex lain to you, sir, I must
812 y that in parents ei’t me com paratively a
p wr mun; lit one, who had received kindness
at my father’s hands, left me an enormous for-
mine, a nd upon two conditions:

Flrst, I was toiake his name, and second, I
was to make Jule Naomi my Wife.

“ I agreed to these terms for two reasons,
first, I needed money, and had a certain duty to
pzrform, which it would aid me in, and second,

felt that I could love Jule.

“ Since then I have worn the name of the one
who left me my fortune, and which I am free
to say should have gone to his fair kinswoman
here. Jule Naomi; and more, using that wealth
skillfully, I have trbbled the amount I inherited,
and can now give to Jule all that was left me,
With the full state interest to date, and yet have
gincrease, which is a large fortune, for my-

“But I care not for it, Victor; it is yours,
and together only will we share it,” said the
Jewess,

“ Hear me," murmured Victor Moloch in the
lame quiet tones. _

“One night, some time ago, I saved the life
of eyoung and beautiful girl, and from that
moment I madly loved her.

“ But her creed was not my creed, for she was
a Gentile, I a Jew, and between us well I knew

‘ r8 was 6. great gulf fixed. .

‘ Yet I loved her, and only when I knew that
she was in distress did I seek her out.

“You, Jule, believed that I served her and
, her kindred from love of you; ahl how bitter
'88 ourmistake.

“ served her because I loved her, though her
kindredlhndhadbittercausetohatemtho
“Who that maiden is you both well know,
land that I saved her from Quilp, the mlser mil-
lionaire, to make her my wife, you are aware,
Lynde, though Jule is not.
> t I speakthe truth, Jule, for Isabel Lynda

1' pledged to be my wife this very day, as her

brother will tell you.”

“. , s, be to the God of Israeli” broke
from the. lips of Jule, the Jewess, to the sur-
prise of Harold Lynda and Victor Molocb, for
“1?er had believed that it would mu like a.
blpw of iron upon the heart of the maiden.

J DO you mean this, J ule?” he asked eagerly.

I, , Victor for a brother only have you
been i: me, a lover never, and my heart re-
belled at having one day to call you husband
$3361! I five on, oh, 810 dearlyhin the light of

sue on on .

u A” I 1. y y-eem

ham ” term

old I;

4‘

O
u,

I hid Victor Moloch, while Har-
nde eagerly cried; ,
on now there is for me,”
«None, for I do not ove on, Mr. Lynda,
and all I have dens for you, tell you again.
was Prompted may by gratitude for the past;
Wfii‘ifié’i ’i’i‘i‘m “‘1 '“°,,‘;,.,W““d°’
w ) we 03!: '
claim the one upon tlle'other.” mm no
i saw that she meant. eve word we us.
tered, and, in a voice that trem ed “A with ‘
face that was asheu pain, he 3;} g
‘f This then is my punishment-tormy 31mm“!
. I deserve it.” ,
, “And, Harold Lynde, mu deserve
saved you and ours from iug ruined
“ *1 sue
 ' as he
 fares ,r pu nhment shs , , ,
 avenged, ay, avenged for a cruel blow and scorn
_ . lathe grit, fgr am your old college ma“,
. 1,. u a" , 4, s
 Harold finds started back with *a bitter,

HIO'I'B'

331:

l i a cansdfrth
‘ ‘ tam?” and thsnh gr o rather

» '“Yes, :Hugo bitter! , crnélly {.011 have
god yourse and th moment t anguish
‘ pen for me than did I stand upon the-g1.

. ban en’snoose about my neck. ; l
' ; .i ‘“ on havegt‘riumphed. and I have lost; you
.   and I have fallen, and now we part
. ‘-l_ r_ - r .
M - -"' Walthfllitanothe' rword he turned 'away and
 . "uh" of the other two speaking he left the
,‘thdthohouse. ' -
. m” d moment a silence fell between Victor
 and Jule, the Jewess; then the man

 

,1

., . . y‘
In: ma outweigh
it “it “4?

thanks be to the God of Abra- ‘

A

. . 9‘91 thank you, uncle nodal;

 

“I have nothing to forgive, Victor.”

“ I am glad, for I feared to give you pain, and
I loved her so.”

“ So be i'r.”

“ And she shall become my wife this day, and
I came hither to tell you so, and to give into

our hands the inheritance I received from
ictor Moloch, whose name I took.

” Here is the amount he left, as you see by
his will, and here is the check for all interest ac-
cumulating to date and from this day I am
uses more Adolph IIugo.”

“ Aece it my congratulations, Adolph,-for the
name of oloch I nevor liked, though a family
name of ourS' but the money I care not for.”

“ And I wilI not retain it, so\do with it as you
wish.”

“ So be it: now we are quite, and gladly will
I sce you marry Isabel L llde.’ ’

“S e is not a Jewess, ule.”

“ I know it.”

“She is a Christian.”

“ That I know.”

“And you would see me become a renegade
to my creed, my people and the God of Israel?”

She turned pale, and then her beautiful face
finshed as she re lied: "

“You can stll hold your creed, be true to

.the God of Israel, and love our people.”

“A stran e argument for you, Jule: but I
thank you or it, though I n;ver expected to
hear such words from your lips,” he said,
thoughtfully.

“ I argue from the same stand-point that you
do, Adolph.”

“ He. 1” and he started at her words.

She turned crimson, but answered firmly:

“Yes, from the stand-point of love, for I am
pledged to become the wife of a Christian. ”

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
ISADOB slum mass A PROMISE.

AFTER the startling avowal, made by Jule,
the J ewess, of her love for a Christian, Adolph
Hugo, as I now once more call my hero. left the
home of his 'ends in deepest meditation, while
the maiden paced to and fro, her thoughts evi-
dently far away.

“I was insulted when he accused me of loving
Harold Lynde, and yet how diderently I fee ,
when I really love one who is not of my creed
or people.

“ He is a renegade, and so am I; but the one
he loves and he whom I love, are enough to
make one prove moment to every faith-1 Oh,
uncle Issdor, come in for I have something to
tell you, if mother has not already made it
known,” she said, as Isador Muir, the ragged,
oath-bound wanderer entered the room.

“She has toldme you are to be a renegade to
ourfaith, Jule,” he said, sternly.

“ True. and so is one other.”

“ Who!” -

“ Victor Moloch.”

“You mean Adolph Hugo!”

is Yes. 9)

“ The‘son of Marcus Hugo and Salome Moni-
ca!" he sin asked, in a sup ressed tone.

“Yes; ow did you know '11: as such?”

“ I heard all that was said.”

“ Ab! and you lmow there are twoof us reno-

des l”

“ Yes, but from their son I might expect it;
but from you, no.”

“I have but one exouse: I loveaman more
than my creed, and Adolph does the same, and
I know we shall both be happy.”

“I hope that you may; love drove me upon
the wide earth a wanderer and made me what I

. am; but in proof that I forgive you, and him,

'1: to k his brid one resent! vs
igu?neai;ém 5332:: u tgeughpwheuy a

kno u: tIh l if“? if“?

~‘ouma w a o eren lspac-

until! the vyvaalth Victor Moloch, our kinsmau,

fit Adolph Hugo, and. can buy a wedding pro-

n?“ from myigdvI though? resent Hflsw for
v

New. In ’ I gave his mother

grids; you remember,
one '

“ Yes, and it took your last dollar to buy the
gems,  you, being a silver-smith, made it
 a I

‘.‘ Yes, and oh, how beautiful it was niece;
but you said it was pawned by Adolph’s mo-
mother to educate him, I believe, and give him
a start in the world. "

“So it was I have been told.”

“mun-the interest not being paid, I suppose

“  uncle.” , < , v .. pl
, “ d you tell mewho was the pawnbroker
who received in", , _ x

\

 

“Yes, for I have heard mother my it was
Isaac Castleberg, of Boston.”

“Thank you, child; now do not k more
of it to any one, and you shall have that
gemmed star to give to his bride as a wedding
gift, for what more appropriate than for her to
wear what his mother wore?” r

‘ You dear old uncle, how can I repay all of
1ylour goodness to me?” said Jule, with tears in

er eyes. ‘

“hover mind, In child; I have not long to
live, I know, but wish to make you happy
while I do linger here.

“Now tell your mother that I have been
called away to Boston to-night, for I go to see
Castleberg, and if he has sold the gem, I can
readily trace so valuable an article, and will
buy it, cost what it may.

“ It is doubtless in some pawnbroker’s hands,
or jeweler’se now, as few could afford to keep

such a present.

“Good-by, Jule, and expect me to return '
with theg .” '

CHAPTER XXXV IL
ran rmr

Tan street 12:33 of a handsome Eastern ci
were just ligh , and mingling their rays wit
the dying twilight, when a. man entered the out-
skirts, and wended his way down one of the
principal thoroughfares. .

He walked with a tired step, pushed to haste
from some cause, and carried a heavy stick, or
rather stair, upon which he leant with apparent
good will.

Such a man, in general make-up, one meets:
daily in our land, both in country towns and
highways, and now and then within the limits
at“ our largest cities, and they are called—

DIPS-
Houseless, homeless, .even oountr less often,
they wander north, south, east an west, lilce
the swallows, seeking the genial sunny climes in
winter, and wending their way northward in
the sultry time of summer. .

Ragged this man was; almost shoeless, and
his hat was drawn down over his gives, but not
so far but that when a street lam ashed upon
him, the face of a Jew was revea ed.

To the. honor of the Jewish race be it said, the
street be gars, the count:- tramps, are not rep-
resented y their people; t, as all rules have
exce Lions, in this case, the tramp was a J ow.

0t er than his dilapidated attire, and his
staff, he seemed. to possess nothing else in
worldly goods,,not even a bundle, and his left

handwas servingalo purpose on his trov and
hung idly at his side, an ass I except a :33va

 

clinching and tier of the fingers as he
walked aloan his h evidently taxing his
powers of o urance

Into the busy mart of the town he took his
wa , followingé apparmtly from long habit,
ra er than in anon, the center of the street,
and now and then raising his eyes and glancing
at the signs over the stores.

Presently be halted, took from unfuner re-
cess of his tattered eats a card. and appar-
ent] satisfied that e was ht, went stra ht
to t odoorsof a brilliantly: uminated jaw .

store. .
“BRAZIER dc COMPANY,
“smvsasnrras me “wanna.”

Suchreadthe gilded sign over their store;
but without hesitation the man in tatters opened.
the door and stepped within.

“Nothin for you!” call out a haughty
clerk, with ishair parted in he middle, and a
diamond stud, loaned by the firm as an adven-
tisement, glittering in his Shirt—front ot imo
stimulate linen.

But no man «no mesa: late the semen ”

‘ “an " not mum:
aid the clerk", and the eyes of turned upon
e man. . >
But, anal-1.134911, he walksdupto the glitter-
csss and calm: ' - r
“5 I 1in no psggsr, mine frlnt." .
:: Mgrelmthenf’ ‘
“ A tramp, self-conifesssd; than what tho.
deuce do you want hen!” .
“To make a. purchase, mine frint.”

A nor vulgar u h followed this an-
noungmon‘tl,’ for what lulIBl-asier 8: Company '

in their store that o

coulfibuyi ." W m - -,
“ » urchass, , I what. _ you

gulpsgipeguyi  set of  a,

“cer ‘am‘d‘émsz

,  “ mill
“No, hhvmtdstmrdmptu.’ dimints._
ant minefrlnt‘.” .
A and bush followed this “W‘

as!” Itsme "" ' "

docking  f 

  
     

   
 

   

 

26

 

 

 

 

thE. THE JEyvass.

 

for the article rslerred to was the most costly
piece of jewelry in the store, being a five-point-
ed star with an opal of great size in the center,
and a circle of immense rubies, rare and blood-
red, around it, and the points being set with
diamonds, differing in size from the one next to
the ruby circle, to the one in the star int.
This magnificent and costly piece 0 jewelry,
with its massive gold setting, the clerk placed
his hand upon, and said in the same scornful

'8 ’1 ‘
‘pAhl I see, that is what your trampship

wants?” .
“ Yesh, mine frint.”

“Well, I guess you can bu it; will you give I

our check for it now, or s
otel for you, C. O. D. l”

“ I vill pagnow."

“ Good] ell, it costs just fifty thousand
dollars.”

“ And hers ish te monish, mine frint.”

In blank amazement the clerks gathered
around, while from an old morocco wallet the
Jew took out a roll of bank-notes, and counted
out the sum demanded.

“Dare lab to monish: fifty t’ousant tollars,
mine frint, ant I ish have one tollar left.”

80 saying he laced the remaining bill back
in his wallet, w ich he returned to his pocket.

' Instantly there was a change in the manner
of the clerks.

At first they seemed to doubt the genuineness
of the bank-bills: but these on examination
proved beyond cavil.

“Well, sir, I hope You will pardon me for
my little joke; but it is nearly closing hours,
and we are so often deceived in people,” said
the clerk, politely, to his fifty-thousand-dollar
customer.

“ So ish tramps, mine frint; oh, t’ank you, I
vill take it mit me now,” and he took the vel-

l I send it to your

vet case and its treasure, and added, as he left i

the store:
“Goot—night mine frint.”
“Perkins, I ear
go tonsuch a pure aser; he may be a thief,

“I’ll stop him and have him arrested,” shout-
ed Perkins, before his fellow—clerk could say
more.

But when he gained the street, the Jew with
his costly jewel had disappeared. ‘ -

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
mam. Lrsns’s CONFESSION.

Winn Adolph Hugo left the home of Jule,
the J ewess, be secured a carriage from a stable
near b and drove to the palatial mansion of
the mi lionaire, Andrew Lynde.

Thither Harold Lynde had already preceded
him and, with his father and sister were seated
in the library, when Richards announced:

“Mr. Victor Moloch.”

Isabel’s face flushed, for, from her brother’s
figs, she had just learned the story of the past,
w an the two were at the University together,
and also that Merton Wilbur had been a class-
mate with them; in fact, the humbled and sor~
rowin Harold had told all.

“ Is e alone, Richards!” asked Isabel for she
knew that it was the day when he had a right
to claim her in marriage, according to the
agreement.

“ Yes, miss.”

She gave a sigh of relief and he entered.
'i“lllir. Moloch," she began; but he broke in

t :

“ I am no longer Victor Moloch Miss Lynde,
for that name I assumed at the will of one from
' whom I inherited my fortune.

"i am now A__dolp Hugo."

“ Yes, i recall you now; your full beard de-
ceived me, though often have I wondered where
I had met you before.

“You saved my life on that awful night of
wreck, when I was returning home from board-
ing-school, and thus I find I owe to you another
de t of gratitude.”

“ Miss Lynde, before your father and bro-
ther. I wish to as that you owe me no debt.

“I loved you rom that night of which you

speak, and the money to aid our
father, and wishing you to be mine, an not
sacriIlCed to Esra Qui , I bound you to a pledge

to become my wife this day.

“ That pledge I lglive {3}; back, if so you will,
for I wish no unw in do if so you be.”

He was very pale, and breathlessly awaited

r l .
ugho y baekhss- emotion she said,inatrein-
 . .
“ind shall have no unwilling wife,

Adolph  for. from that nllht have I also

on were wrongtolet that ;h M
. aug

loved you, and it was thus losing one whom '
believed had forgotten me that made me reck-
less of whose wife I became, and caused me to
ofler myself as a sacrifice to the miser to save
my father and brother from ruin; yes, Adolph
Hugo, I love you with all my heart, and if you
wil take me, in the presence of my father and
brother, who owe you so much of gratitude, I
tell you that thy home shall be my home, thy
God my God until death do us part.”

“Amen!”

The one word came from the lips of the mil-
lionaire while his son, with his face buried in
1 his ban 5, made no reply.

“Isabel, I thank you, and may the God of
Israel forever bless you; but this day will I not
claim you, as I wish no hasty dragging of a
5 bride from her home and father.

. “To-day two months, if so it please you, I

will claim you as m wife, and in the mean
i time the world may ow of the step you take,
1 and which I take, for it is no slight thing for one
i of my race to turn his back upon the daughters
1

of Israel and the laws of his race.”

“I am content, Adolph; claim me when you

will, for frankly I confess that you only can I
love,” she said, earnestly, and soon after the
young Jew tools his leave, Harold Lynde offer-
ing his hand in farewell as he departed, and
hearing the words:
; “For your sister’s sake, Mr. Lynde, I forgive
: the 1,past, and shall forget it; may your life in
g the uture be truer and nobler than in the past;
I farewell.”

 

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
run STAR or ILL-OMEN.

, Tin: day set by Adolph Hugo for the one on
;‘ wtliicl; he was to claim his bi ide rolled around
i I as .

But in that time chan es had come to some of
5 those who have become nown in these pages to
3 the kind reader.

Harold Lynde, a far different man from the
aristocrat of his earlier ears, had set-
tied in aris, and was living a quiet, uneventful

, life for there were memories that haunted, him

which would not down at his bidding.

The Reverend Silas Sloan, who ad accom-
panied him to England, had found out upon his
arrival that the way of the transgressor is hard
for he had been recognized as an old theolo ica
student who had fallen from ace, committed
crimes that had sent him to prison, and, having,
as the readeris aware, crossed are his sentence
was out, had been sent back to a cell to medi-
tate u n the brilliant career he had led in the
New orldasan impostor, and regret that he
had not taken Merton Wilbur’s advice and gone
to a more congenial clime than England, for
having promised the evil man pnctection, and
not to betray him, if he testified to the truth
against the miser millionaire, he could not, in
honor, deliver him up, as he richly deserved, for
his crimes.

And Ezra Quilp the miser had one to prosa-
cute him be little liked, for it was none other
than Merton Wilbur who had become District
Attorney at the expiration of his predecessor’s
term, and his eloquence sent the wretched man,
in spite of his money. to prison, and the public
verdict was that “ it served him right.”

Of course the rumors that there were to be
two weddings in high life set all the fashionable
people on the qui vice ; but when it was known

but the belle and heiress, Isabel Lynde, was to
marry a Jew, none other than Adolph Hugo, a
millionaire banker, societ was on the tip-toe of
excitement, yet could fin no word against the
young man other than that he was not a Chris.

lap, and there were some who 0 nly said that
he lived a purer, better life than t ose who were.

The other wedding to be, was a poorer one,
for the ppular young District Attorney, Mer-
ton Wil ur, had looked over the heads of the
Christian maidens and fallen in love with J ulo,
the Jewess, and the double wedding was to be
celebrated at one and the same time.

And it was celebrated with great pomp and

lendor, and by a double ceremony, for both a
shristian clergyman and a_ Jew1sh rabbi read
the services of their respective churches.

And 03 on a bridal tour s d the happy nar-
tette, to be gone for amont , but are very ong
Adolph Hugo and his bride returned, for, stran
to say, the ealth of the young wife began -
dsnly to fade. -

And soon after Merton Wilbur and Jule were
called home to see Isador Muir die.

But the arrived too late, for that strange

 

character reathed his last are he again gassd
sponthefacsofhisloved niece.

o

 

But to her he left his fortune, and his papers.

And it was in looking over these latter one
day, when alone, that Jule suddenly turned
deadly pale at something she read.

Again and again she read it over, and then
thrusting the paper into her bosom, hastily

Called for a servant.

“ Order my carriage at once, Rachel,” she
said to her maid, an , by the time the vehicle
came round to the door of the handsome home
where she lived with her husband and mother,
she was dressed for her drive.

“ To Lynde Manor, Reuben, and drive in
haste,” she said to her ooachman, and soon after
she s rung out at the door of the mansion.

“ ow is Mrs. Hugo, Richards?” she asked,
quickly, of the worthy old butler.

“ Seems to be daily fading, miss, though none
know why.”

“I will go at once to her room," announced
Jule, and the next moment she entered the
handsome chamber, where Isabel indolently lay
upon a lounge, idli toying with a costly, em-
med weddin gift t at was fastened aroun her
neck by a go d chain.

Warmly she welcomed the Jewess, and her
pale face flushed slightly; but Jule hastil said:

“Isabel, l have come to cure you, for have
discovered what the physicians have failed to
do.

“ What do you mean, Jule!" asked Isabel,
languidly.

“ I mean that I understand the nature of your
disease; here, let me have that gemmed star.”

“ No, I have not taken it off since you clasped
it argund my neck, Jule, the day was mar-
ried.

“ I will take it off, for I wish to examine it,”
and she did so.

Then she took from her bosom the paper she
had thrust there, and which she had found
among the eflects of her uncle Isador Muir,
and said:

“Isabel, you have often heard me speak of
my‘ §trange kinsman, uncle Isador Muir.”

es

“ I have told you his sad history!”

“Yes; well?”

“ He was a skilled jeweler. and also a chemist,
and knov'ving these facts about him, and that he
had a most revengeful natur -, you will under-
stand what I now read to you, and which is a
leaf from his diary of many years ago.

“ It is as follows, and in a secret cipher which
he taught me one day:

“ ‘ Paid almost my last dollar today for the gems
wilt inm revenge resent.

“‘It I be mos beautiful, and the poisons I
have so set in the rays of the star that they will do
their deadly work and none ever believe that I
caused the death of Salome Monica, and revenged
myself upon her for discarding me and becoming
the wife of Marcus Hugo.‘ "

“Great God! Jule, what does this mean?”
cried Isabel, in alarm.

“ It means, Isabel, that my poor uncle so
hated the woman he once loved that he never
forgave her, and sought revenge upon her son,
your husband, throu h me.

.“ This is his w din -present to her long
years ago, and she die with a disease none
could fathom.

“ She was poisoned by this ill-omened star, as
you are being day by day, and he gave it to me
to give to you, that he might see . en die. and
. nus lost in his reven upon Ado ph Hugo.

“ ow, Isabel, I ta e back this gift of ill-
omen, and, thank God, in time to save you,
and, when next Merton takes me for a sail in
his acht, you go, too, and far down in the sea
wil I send it never more to do harm.

“ Now come, rouse out of your indisposition,
for the cause is removed; ut, Isabel, for the
sake of the dead, let this secret be buried be-
tween you and I.”

Isabel was deeply affected by all she had
heard; but already did she seemto feel better,
and casting on the presence of gloom upon her,

'she roused herself to liveliness, and greatly was

her husband cheered when he found her in such
hi h spirits u n his return home.
rom that ay her health improved, and then

she knew, indeed, that but for J ule’s discovery
of the cipher she would have met her
death the victim o Isador Muir’s revenge.

And Jule, the J ewess, kept her word. for one
pleasant afternoon, when Merton Wilbur’s
yacht, The Jew was bounding alongfiin a
race around thrtdghtehip on andy ook
downintothedepthsofthessasunkfmmsighl
the “ Star of Ill-0mm.”

m m

 

mnfinfindaunhs

 

 

 

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rm. ll

\_

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I! so 2! Popular Dialogue. and mamas in each book.

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mobbing. For five spleakers. Cinderella: or, the little Glass Slipper. o
of Success. or three speakers. DoingGood and Saying Bad. For sevelfloharuten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

mum m anus, 98 wrmin swarm, x. I.
General Dime Book Publishers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Golden Rule. For two males and two femalel.
The Gift of the Fairv Queen. For several fe

Taken in and Done or. For two characters.
Country Aunt‘s Visit to the City. Several chm
The Two Romans. For two males.

Tryhrif the Characters. For three males.

The apgy Family. For several “animals.”

The Ram ow. For several characters.

How to write “ Po ular ” Stories. For two main,
The New and the id. For two males.

A Sensation at Last. For two males

The Greenhorn. For two males. .

The Three Men of Science. For four me]

The Old Lady’s Will. For four mice.

The Little Philoso hers. For two little girl.

How to Find an eir. For five males.

The Virtues. For six young ladies.

A Connubial Eclogue.

The Public Meet' . For five males and onefelnlh.
The English Trave er. For two males.

Dime Dialogues. N o. 3.

The May Queen. For an entire school.

Dress Reform Convention. For ten females.
Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males.
Courti Under Difficulties. Two males, one female.
Nations. Representatives. A Burlesque. Fourmllu.
Esca ing the Draft. For numerous males.

The nteel Cook. For two males.

Masterpiece. For two males and two female!

The Two Romans. For two males.

The Same. Second Scene. For two males.

Showin the White Feather. Four males, one to“
The Be e Call A Recitative. For one male.

 

For ten or more persons.
For three males and two fem
afiand Charity. For three little iris.

The Frost .
Startlnfi ingiige.
Faith,

garb an oan. For two males and one emale.
the flay. A Floral Fancy. For six little girls.

The Enchanted Pnncess. 2 males, several females.
Honor to Whom Honor is Due. 7 males and l femab
The Gentle Client. Several males and one female.
Phrenolo . A Discussion. For twenty males.
The Stubb etown Volunteer. 2 males and 1 fem-I.
A Scene from “ Paul Pry.“ For four males. ‘

The Charms. For three males and one female.
Bee, Clock and Broom Forthree little

The Ri ht we . A Colloiruy. For two
What t e Ler§5r Boys. or two males.
TheCrlmeso real. AColl y. For twobql.
The Reward of Benevolence. or four males.
The Letter. For two males.

Dime Dialogue» No. U.

Guesses. For school or parlor.
A “Three Persons’ " eroe.

 

 

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Hand-Books of Games.
Book of Croquet.
Chess Instructor.

t an otball.

Cricke
Guide to Swunmmg.
Yachting nd ng.
Rlding and Driving.
Book of Pedestrw
Base-Ball Player
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Manuals for House-
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. Recipe Boo
3 Hons kee r’e Guide
4. Famlly Physician.
5. Dre akl Mlllinm'y.
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II.«—John anl Jones.
llI.-—Mnd Anthony Wayne.
“K’Etlmn Allen.
V .«Merquis (1e Lafayette.
VLrDaniel Boone.
VII.'—Davl(1 Crockett.
el Putnam.

X_..Tecum3e
x1.——Abrahm
X“...Pontiac-

Lincoln.

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{1 A Hard Crowd; or, Gentleman Sam’s Sister.
B Philip  Warnc.

2 he Dai'o-Dcvil; or, The Winged Witch of

the Sea. By (10L P. lngi‘aham.

3 Kit Carson, Jr. the Crack Shot of the

West. Bv Buckskin In.

4 The Kidnap )er;‘or, The Great Shanghai of

the Northwest. >y Philip S. Warne.

5 The li‘irc-Ficnds; or, Hercules, the Hunch-

back. By A. P. Morris.

6’ 1Vildcat Bob, the Boss Bruiser By Ed-

ward L. Wheeler.

7 Death-Notch, theDcstroycr. By 011 Coomes.

8 The Mcndicss Horseman. Bv Captain

Mayne Reid. -

9 [handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.
10 1' ldocq, the French Police Sp" Written by
11 fil‘i‘ie‘f‘ ' '

shipnian Easy. D‘v Ca Lain Ma at.

12 The Death-Shot; or, Tracfed To Drgth.
B Captain Mayne Reid.

13 uthaway' or, Nick Whil‘fles, the old Trap-
per of the Nor west. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

14 Thayendanegea, the Scourge ; or; The War
Eagle of the Mohawks. By Ned Buntline.

15 The Tl'rer-Slayer; or, Eagle-Head t8 the
Rescue. EBy Gustave Aimard.

16 The White “’lzard - or, TheGreat Prophet
oi; the Seminoles. B Ned Buntline.

17 Nightshade. the bber Prince of Hounslow
Heath. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18 The Sea Bandit. By Ned Buntline. c,

19 Red Cedar. “zo Prairie Outlaw. By Gustave
Aimard. . t

20 The Bandit‘a. Bay; or, The Pirates of the
Prairies. By Gustave Aimard.

21 The Trap er’s Daughter; or, The Out-
law 3 Fate. y Gustave Aimard.

22 Whitelaw; or, Nettie of the Lake Shore.
By Dr. J. H. Robinson. ‘

23 The Red “'arrior; or, Stella Delfl-‘me':
Comanche Lover. By Ned Buntline. v

24 Prairie Flower. By G. Ajmard.

25 The Gold Guide; or, Steel Arm. the Regu-
lator. . By Francis Johnson.

26 The Death-Track ' or. The Outlaws of the

‘ Mountain. By Francis . ohnson.

‘2)? The Spotter Detective. By A. W. Aiken.

~8 l‘hree-Flngered Jack, the Road-Agent of
the Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

 

29 Tiger Dick, tho Faro King; or, The Cashier’s
(,rime. By Philip S. Warnc.
30 Gospel George; or. Fiery Fred. the Outlaw-
By J0.leph E. Badger, Jr.
31 Tue .Netv York Sharp; or, The Flash of
3“ chhtnmg. By Albert W. Aiken.
. a. Tl’ho s of Yale; or. The Scrapes of a Hard
Set of ollcgians. By John D. Vose.
533 Overland Kit; or. The Llyl of White Pine.
l B{ Albert W. Aiken.
.34 l ocky Mountain Rob
Outlaw. By Albert 1V. Aiken.
:35 Ken_tuck. the Sport; or. Dick Talbot at
i the Mines. B Albert wait-on.
~36 Injun Die ‘ or, The Death Shot of Shasta.
13 Albert W. Aiken. .
‘37 irl, the Hunchback: or. The Sword-
maker of t to Santee. B Dr. J. H. Robinson.
.38 1 elvot Hand' or, T c Iron Grip of 111.111“
i Dick. By Albert . All"?
39 The Russian Spy;s.,' The Brothers of the
Starry Cross. By Captain Fred. Whittaker.
40 The Long Haired “ Pardsi” or, The
l Taitars of the Plains. By Jos. E. Badger. J 1‘-
4 Gold Dan or The White Savage of the Great
Salt Lake. y Albert W. Aiken.
42 The California Detective; or. ThewitChes
of New York. By Albert W. Aiken.
43 Dakota 11,11“ the Reckless Ranger or The
Bee-Hunters Excursion. B 011 Coomes ‘
44 Old Dan llackbackagn Great Extermina-
45 ohili‘lliiagrghgleéiLaft TimiL 011 Coomes.
e is t ‘
46 gains" B Jo‘s} Eéadgefiynning Shot of. the
ow e. n e en t eLittle
47 ligflfifstr By 031 COP times. ‘ Hunter of the
no 0 etc 9 " ‘90, '3 Rev
48 {age h ErBadgéI-d J; l O“ I olver. BY
a 10 ' om, t e ouu t aw ofSilv ~
or, the Hunters of the Wil West. 83701103353?
49 The “’olf Demon. By Albert W
Pra rte S

. A. .
50 Jack Rabbit. we port. 3%“...

the California

E. Bad er, J1. ,,
51 Red oh; the do, Rom-Agent‘ By on
Coomes ‘ \ '

. ( . .
52 Death Traitor. the Chief of Scouts; or, we
and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Buflalo Bin,
53 silver Sam' or, The Mystery 01 DeadWood
Cltly. By Col. Delle Sara. .
54 A ways On Hand. By Philip S. Warne.
55 The Sea] Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
53 The [lid an Maze pit; or, The Madman
of the Plains. By A. .Aiken.
The Silent Hillfitgtr'i pr. The Scowl Han
Ste . B Pel'C . . om.
58 S lvg Kilfe ;y or, Wickllfl’e. The Rocky
Mountain Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
The Man From Texas; or, The Outlaws
of Arkansas. Bv A. W. Aiken.
80 ‘Wide AWake the Robber King: or, The
Idiot of the mack Hills. By Frank Diimont.
1 0: iltain seawalf, the Private!“ '3)» Ned
n he ,
2 fi‘o alt Heart; or, TIT Trappers or Arkansas.
us 8We Aimard. ~
g? The Winged “'hale. By A. W. Aiken.
Double-Sight, the Dcatu Shot' or, The 0111:-

“ TW of t e Chaparral. By Jos. E. Badger. J 1‘-

i

 

1'9 Red Ra 911° or, The Scour!- ot the
W 3! Quintin. ‘ttaker

66 The Specter Bur lie. By Ma ne Rel ‘2
67 The Boy Jockey‘.l By Jos. E. Badger.%r.
68 The Fighting Trapper' or, Kit Carson
to the Rescue. By Captain J.  C. Adams.
69 The Irish Ca itain. By Capt. F.Whittaker.
70 Hydrabad, t e Strangler; or, Alethe, the
Child of the Cord. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
71 Captain Cool-Blade; or, The Man-Shark
of the Mississippi. By Jos. E. Badger Jr.
72 The Phantom Hand; or, The Heiress of
Fifth Avenue. By A. W. Aiken.
73 The Knights of the Red Cross; or, The
Magician of Granada. By‘Dr. J. H. Robinson.
The Captain of the idea; or, The Queen
of the Lakes. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
Gentleman George. By A. W. Aiken.
The Queen’s Musketeers; or. Thisbe, the
Princess Palmist. By George Albany.
The Fresh of Frisco. By A. W. Aiken
The Mysterious Spy. By A. M. Grainger.
Joe Phenix, the Police Soy. B AW. Aiken.
A Man of Nerve. By Philip L. Warne.
The Human Tiger; or. A Heart of Fire.
By Albert W. Aiken.
Iron ‘Vrlst, the Swordmaster.
Thomas Hoycr Monstery.
Gold Bullet Sport. By Buffalo Bill.
84 Hunted Down; or, The League of Three.
By Albert W. Aiken.
85 The Cretan Rover; or. Zuleikah, the
Beautiful. B Col. Prentiss Inmham.
86 The Big Hunter; or, The I ueen of the
Woods. By the author of “The S ent Hunter.”
87 The Scarlet Captainé or, The Prisoner of
the Tower. By Col. Delle arts.
88 Big Georo'e, the Giant of the Gulch; or, The
Five Outlaw-Brothers. By Jose h E. Badger. Jr.
89 The Pirate Prince. By 0]. P. In raham.
90 Wild “fill, the Mad Ranchero; or, he Ter-
rible Texans. By Buckskin Sam.
91 The \Vinnin Oar; or, The Inukeeper’s
Daughter. By Al .rt W. Aiken.
92 Bullhlo Bill, the Buckskin King; or The
Amazon of the West. By Mag’leJangerfleld Burr.
93 Ca tain Dick Talbot, ‘ g of the Road;
or, he Black-Hoods of Shasta. y A. W. Aiken.
94 Freelance, the Buccaneer; or. The Wait 01!
the Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
95 Azhort, the Axman; or, The Secrets of the
Ducal Palace. B Anthony P. Morris.
96 Don bio-Dent i; or. The Spy Queen of Wyo—
ming. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
97 Bronze Jack, the California Thoroughbred.
By Albert W, Aiken.
98 The Rock Rider; or, The Spirit of the
Sierra. By Capt. Frederick Whittakcr.
99 The Giant Rilieinan. By 011 Coomes.
100 The French Spy; or, The Bi ide of Paris.
By Anthony P. Morris.
1 The Illan From Ncu' York; or. The Ro-
manci: of a. Rich Young ‘FVoman. By Aiken,
102 The Maskcd Band: or. The Man With-
Out a Name. By George L. Aiken.
103 Merle, the liliitineer; or, The Brand of
the Red Anchor. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
104 Nlontczuina, the Merciless; or. The
Eagle and the Serpent. By Col. P. 'Ingraham.
105 Dan Brown oi Denver the Rocky Moun-
tain Detective. By Joseph 4. Bad er. Jr.
106 Shamns O’Brien, the Bould oy of Glin-
gal. By Col. Delle Sara.
107 Richard Talbot oi" Cinnabar; or. The
Brothers ofihe Red Hand. By A. \V. Aiken.
1 08 The Duke oi‘liiamonds; or. The Flower
- of Calcutta. By Ca tain Frederick Whittaker.
109 Ca tain Kyd,t e King of the Black Flag.
By 01. Prentiss lngraham.
1 l 0 The Silent Riilcman. By H. W. Herbert.
111 The Smuggler Ca tain; or, The Skip-
er’s Crime. By Ned untline.
1 12 0e Phenix Private Detective' or, The
League of the S 'eleton Ke s. B .A.  Aiken.
113 The Sea Slip on" or. he mateur Free-
booters. By Prp . J. Ingraham.
114 The Gentleman From Pike; or, The
Ghost of the Canyon. By Phili S. Warns.
115 Thc Severed Hcad' or, he Secret at
Castle Coucy. By Capt. red. Whittaker
116 Black Plume, the Devxl of the Sea. {y
Col. Prentiss Ingraliam.
1 l 7 Dashin Dandy the Hotspur of the Hills.
Bv Major augerfle d Burr.
118 The Burglar Captain; or, The Fallen
Star. By Prof. J. H. In raham.
119 Alabama J oe‘ or, he Yazoo Man-Hun-
ters. By Jos. E. B’adger. Jr.
120 The Texan 813'; or. The Prairie Guide.
By Newton M. Cu is. '
121 The Sea Cadet ; or, The Rover 01 the Rigo-
atts. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
122 i an] Sabberda the Idiot Spy : or, Luliona,
the Seminole. By ed Buntline.
123 Alapaha, the S “new; or. The Renegades
of the Border. By rancis Johnson.
4 Assowaum, the Avenger; or, The
Doom of the Destroyers. By Francis Johnson.
125 The Blacksmith Outlinv; or. Merry
England. By Harrison Ainsworth.
126 The Demon Duelist; or. The League of
Steel. By Col. Thomas Hoycr Monstery.
127 N01 Scott, the Masked Miner; _or,
Brown's Double. By Jos. E. Badger, or.
128 The Chevalier Corsair. By the author
0f “Merle the Mutincci‘.”
129 Mississipgii Mose; or. A Strong Man‘s
sacniice. y Edward Willett.
1301 aptain Volcano or, The Manofthe Red
_ Revolvers. A. W. iken.
‘1“ “ckskin Cum, thi- Texas Trailc or, The
‘ l“audits oi the Bravo. By Col. 1’. Inififlwm!

q
.5.

mmd-IQ “A!
“mefil $‘ 1

Q,
NJ

By Colonel

at
93

Dan

132 Nemo, King of'the Tram s. Capt

Frederick Whittaker. p By

1 33 Body the Hover the RibbonmaL of Iro-
land. By William Carleton.

1 34 Durkie Dn n, the Colored Dotcctive; or, Th:

Mis.~:issippi Mystery. By Col. P. Ingraham.

135 The Bush Ranger' or The Half-
Brigade. By Francis Johnson.

136 The Outlaw-H untcr; or, Red John, the!
Bush Ranger. By Francis Johnson.
137 Long Board, the Giant Spy. By a
Conmcs. ’
138 The Border Bandits' or, The Horse
’l‘hict“s Trail. By Francis Jo mson.
139 Fire-Eyedhe Sea Hyenapor. The Bride 0!
a Buccaneer. By (.‘01. Prentiss Ingraham.
140 The Three Spaniards. Bv Geo. Walker.
141 Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock; or.
Dan Brown‘s Mastcrstroke. By Joseph. E.
Badger. Jr.
142 Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron
Facc. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr.
143 'l‘ he Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist League.
By COLT. H. Monstery.
144 The Hunchback of Notre-Dame.
B Victor Hugo.
145 into] Pards ' or, Soft Hand, the Silent
S ort from Cinna r. By Wm. B. Eystcr.
146 The Doctor Detective; or, The Mystery
of the Golden Coffin. By Geo e Lemue .
147 Gold Spur the Gentleman rom Texas. By
Col. Prentiss lngraham.
148 One-A rmed Alf the Giant Hunter of the
Great Lakes. B oil Coomes.
149 The Border lilies. By Gustave Aimard.
0 El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen.
By Col. Thomas HoyvrMonstery.
1 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard.
2 Captain lronncrve, the Counterfeiter
3 Chief. Bv Marmaduke Dev.
4

The White Scalper. By Gustave Aimard.
Joaquin, the Saddle King. ByJoseph E.
Badger, Jr.
5 Tile Corsair uccn; or, The Glpsies of
the Sea. By C01. 'entiss Ingraham.
156 Velvet Face, the Border Bravo; or. Muriel,
the Danite’s Bride. By Dangerfield Burr.
I57 IVIourad, the Man-clukc; or. The Three
Swordmastei‘s. By (:01. Thomas H. Monstery.
'l‘he Doomed Dozen ; or. Dolores. the
Dmiiic‘s Daughtcr. By Dr. Frank Powell.
Rcd Rudiger. the Archer; or. The Lady
Iii-rtha’s Treachery. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
100 Soft "and, Sharp: or. The Man \\ ith the

Sand. By \Vin. R. Eystcr.
161 The \1’olvcs oi' Ncu' York; or, Joe
Plu-nix’s Great Mun limit. By A. ’W . Aiken.

162 The Mad lVIai-iiicr; or. Iiishonored and

Disowned. By Col. Prentiss Ingiaham.

Ben Brion. the 'l‘rapier Hanan]: or, Red-

paih. the Avor‘iger. B r J .Robinson.

164 The King’s Fool ' or. The Knights of the

Claspcd Hands'and RH Branch. By C. D.Clark.

Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

1 66 0 wch, the Robber Prince: or. The Unknown

Highwziymnn. By S 'plilnuS R. Urban.

The Plan ol‘Stccl ; or, The Masked Knight

of the White Plume. By A. P. Morris.

\Vild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or. Dagger

. Don’s Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahain.

169 Corporal Cannon, the Man of Forty Duels.
By (‘01. Thomas Hoycr Monstery.

170 Stvcct “'illiam, the Trapper Detective.

By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

Tiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or,

The Dumb Bandit. By Philip S. Warne.

172 The Black Pirate; or. The Mystery 01
the Golden Fettcrs. By Col. P. Incrahani.

178 California John, the Pacific Thorough-
bred. By Albert W. Aiken.

174 The Phantom Knights. By Capt. F.
Whittaker.
Wild Bill’- Trump Card' or. The Indian
Heiress. By Major Dangerfield Burr.

Ladfi J au‘uar, the Robber Queen. By Cap

train ark Wilton.

177 Don Diabio, the Planter-Corsair; or, The

Rivals of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

Dark Daslnvood. the Desperate; or, The

Child of the Sun. By Major Sam S. Hall.

179 Conrad. the Convict; or. Was He Guilty!
By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve, LL. D.

180 Old ’49; or, The Amazon of Arizona. By
Jos. E. Ba er, Jr.

181 The Scar et Schooner: or. The Nemesh
of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

1 82 Hands Illlp ' or, The Knights of the Canyon.

By Wm. . Eyster.

183 Gilbert, the Guide; or. Lost in the WK»
derness. By C. Dunning Clark.

184 The Ocean Yam ire; or, The Heiress <8
Castle Curse. Co . Prentiss lngrahain.

1 85 The Man S 1 er; or, The Beautiful Sphing.
By Anthony . Moms.

186 The Black Bravo; or. The Tonkawny‘r
Trium h. Bv Buckskin Sam.

187 The eath’s Head Cuirassiers; oi
Brave of all Braves. By Capt. Fred. Whittaket

188 The Phantom Machpa; or, The H «m
of the Cha rrals. By Ma . Dangerfield _

189 “'ild Hi In Gold Tra l; or. The Despo.
ado Dozen. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

190 'ghe Three Guardsmen. By Alexandra

umas.

A new issue ercry Wednesday.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale a]:
hewsdealers, ten cents per copy. or sent by in on '
recei t of twelve cents each. BEADLEO AD“:
Publishers, 93 William Street. New York»

 

 

 

 

From the Jew York Evening Sim.

 

 

"TWO REMARKABLE HEROES. "

The Deadwood Dicks, Senior and Junior, are the Gentlemen.

There Have Already Been Ninety Volumes Published Relating to Their Astounding Courage, Coolness and Skill.

in only one sense of the word can it be regarded
as a novel statement when the fact is here recorded
that literature has given many heroes to the world,
and perhaps more than one reader will have to
think a moment over this remark before the subtle
delicac of its genial wit strikes home.

But i is most essentially a half dime novel state-
ment that will be news to many when it is added that
literature, if traced from the dimly distant days when
Adam wasa mere child down to the present day,
would show but few heroes that in the eyes of boy-
hood would be even judged worthy of comparison
with the two eatest heroes known to American
literature or, promptly reveal them, Deadwood
Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr.

Perhaps if everything Were known of his career
in bookland, Robinson Crusoe would rank above any
hero ever offered to the boys of the world, for
Robinson made his apgcarauce a long time ago and
his adventures have con translated into pretty
nearly all the languages that are printable: but
while Robinson is and ever will be a worthy person-
age, he is, it is to be feared, most decided y a back
number in the eyes of several millions of the boys
and young men of to-day.

And then, too, Robinson's reputation was made
and safely anchored to leeward at a time when com~
netition in the manufacture of heroes of juvenile
iterature was so slack that it is scarcely worth men-
tioning. Had he post oned his debut until today
Robinson would have ad to hire a press agent, of
the very obLectionable type known as a hustler, and
even With t at assistance the odds are that he would
have experienced a severe frost.

Robinson, like many other bygone characters
calculated to thrill the juvenile mind, labored under
the disadvantage of having only a comparatively
Sew adventures, and he wasfurther very heavily
handicapped by having to confine his adventures
within the narrow circles of probability and com~
mon sense. The modern heroes of fiction for youn
America, who are now as countless as the sands o
the sea, and of whom the Deadwood Dicks are much
the most important, are not trammeled bv any such
confined conditions, and with the bars let down ad-
mitting them to the boundless expanse of the utter-
ly impossible, it is but natural that their unnatural-
ness should bear away the palm of poEularity, and
such as Robinson be left far behind in t e race.

Therefore the statement of the su assiug promi-
nence of the two Deadwood Dicks aving been so
, emphaticall made, it will be as well to justify the
emphasis w th some facts about their history from
a bookseller’s point of view, before plunging into the
seething vertex of their recorded lives.

Deadwood Dick made his first a pearance before
the public in 1877, under the au cos of Beadle &
Adams. the William street pub shers of popular
literature for the masses, and for fourweglsyears he
or his son has been reappearing at interv , which
were at first irregular, but they have now settled
down to a basis of once in six weeks.

It was in 1&5 that Deadwood Dick the elder made
his final appearance after thirty-three volumes of
adventure, and his son, Deadwood Dick, Jr., who
had been growing 1131 in them for many years, took
up the running, an has kept it up to the tune of
very nearly 11 ty volumes more in the six years
gist (have passed since his remarkable father was

urie .

Durin the fourteen years they have been on the
market bese stories have been sold at five cents a
volume, and the circulation the have attained
throughout the length and breadt of the land, has
been in the a ate something tnin vast, for the
entire series is kept constantlyin rim, and man of
the early issues are now enjoy ng a sale of t eir
twen‘y-seventh or thirtieth ed tion.

It can be easily believed, therefore, that the two
Dicks are so flrm y engrafted on the tree of popular
literature for boys and young men, that their posi-
tion is named so ion as their author can keep it up,
and that they stan to—day head and shoulders
abOve all rivals in the eyes of the public for which
tdliie have lived, and for which one of them has

American boyhood, and that is a tremendous fac-
tor in the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a
good r on] butti'l‘ than it knows its catechism, and
millions of young minds absorb the thrilling inci-
dents of his career in his everlastingwarfare ainst
crime and his never-01v lug solving of impene rable
m wierics.

Millions of boys folk... his stealthy fc otsteps as he
tracks his vicious victims to their undoing, and then,
when the victims are thoroughly undone, the mil-
lions wait hungrin for the next volume, which on
eyery sixth Tucsda appears with the certainty of
the Tuesday itsel , and a new set of delightful
thrills o thrilling away from Maine to California.

Mr. icror, the courteous editor for Beadle and
Adams, who told The Evening Sun what it wished
to know about the history of the tw Dicks, said
Hummus: his attention ed to what

 

 

 

 

are known as Deadwood Dick clubs, which are or-
ganizations consisting of from three to a dozen boys,
who take turns in buying the Deadwood Dick novels
as they appear, and reading them in rotation, so
that in the case, for instance, of a club of six mem-
bers, each member would be kept thoroughly in-
formed of his pet hero‘s latest doings, at a cost of
only five cents once in thirty-six weeks, while when
nine pf these economical young enthusiasts pool
their issues in the same direction a nickel will serve
the purpose for a whole year.

Mr. Victor, in his curious and interesting task of
editing this phase of the literature of the day for
one_of the most extensive publishing houses in the
busmess, has weighed the (pleation carefully, and
finds that a volume once in s in weeks is just about
the amount of Deadwood Dick, Jr., that his count.
lees admirers can comfortabi y absorb and digest.

.In England, too. this extraordinar series of
eighty volumes "telling of the doings o father and
son has been republished for years, to the infinite
delight of the boys and youths of Great Britain and
the solid satisfaction of the. London publishers that
had the leasure of thus getting square withAmerica
on the p racy question.

“ When I received the first Deadwood Dick story,"
said Mr. Victor, “ I was struck with the freshness
of the author‘s style. and after toning it down a
little sent it to the rinters. The story made a hit
and I accepted anot ier and another until we found
that the character was becoming unusually popular
among our patrons.

“ I kept urging the author to make the stories less
terrifica ly forci la in the language of his rougher
characters, and gradually the sulphurous nature of
their dialogues me moderate eno h to need
but little editing, and at the same time t e torrents
of liquor that flowed like rivers throu h his earlier
manuscripts, dwindled to rlvulets un er the influ~
ence of my appeals for less rum.

“ The author urged the absolute truth of both the
language and the amount of whisky-drian that
be attributed to his characters, but beg ed the
interests of morality that the flow of bot one and
the other he curbed, and of course the stories were
none the worse for his doing so.

“ Deadwood Dick, himself. was also gradually re-
formed and changed from the outlawed terror of
the law-abiding to the deadly foe of the law break-
ers, and when once that transformation was
achieved his subsequent course in the path of viriue
was an assured success.

“True, the path was a somewhat rock , bloody
and dangerous one; but no one who fol ows him
alon its various ups and downs can doubtlts virtue,
and mm that virtue he never deviated."

The full and oilicial list of the titles of tlls re-
markable series would till at least a column of The
Evening Sun. It contains some real gems in the
way of names calculated to attract the youth in
search of a thrill. For instance there is Deadwood
Dick's Device; or, The Sign of the Double Cross.
A Wild, Stran e Tale of the Leadville Mines—of Men
of Steel—of oughs and Tigers—of Road-a ents,
Regulators, Avengers, Adventurers, and o the
Thrilling Life in the New Elder-ado.

Can any one deny the comprehensiveness of that
or his probable power of seducing nickels from the

pockets of novel-reading boys? Then there are a

number of delightfully allitei‘ative titles, such as
Deadwood Dick’s Defiance, or, the Double D rs,
and Deadwood Dick’s Double, or, the Ghost 0 Gor—

on’s Gulch. Peculiarly fetching, too, in their
orceful effect on the small boy’s pocket money
must be Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity
Jane, the Heroine of Whoop Up; Deadwood Dick’s
Dead Deal; or, Captain Crackshot the Girl Brigand;
Deadwood Dick's Death Trail; Deadwood Dick’s
Death Plant, and Deadwood Dick's Diamonds.
In the selection of localities for his adventures Dead—
wood Dick Jr., shows far more desire for variety
than the old man ever did, for he has volumes
that relate his remarkable doigs in New York,
Chica 0. Philadelphia, Boston, ncinnati, Roches-
ter, ffalo, San Francisco, Denver, Galveston
Leadville, and even at Coney Island. The titles 0
the you er hero’s volumes show that he met with
and got t e better of swindlers, bunco men, coun-
terfeiters, bank robbers. horse thieves, smugglers,
pirates, stage robbers, and, indeed, pretty nearlyr
every 8 rt of criminal known to the lice, while h s
father .. nflned himself almost cxc usively to root-
ing out the Western type of bad men. Progress has,
therefore, a worthy representative in Deadwood
Dick the younger.

It is surely not necessary to add that in the mod-
erate compass of a newspaper article, only the
merest shadow of justice can be done to the careers
of any heroes that have had such an extraordinar
collection of stories as that written about them. f
a month or so were given toa careful reader for the
task. he might, with the assistance of a double-entry
bookkeeper, tabulate the number of blood-curdling
episodes “maria the eighty volumes, together

 

 

with the exact number of persons who are shot,
stabbed, hanged and removed in sundry less con~
ventionai borderland ways, such as being tossed
into quicksands, burned in the tops of forest giants,
fed to bears or made to try and walk on tight rope:
across bottomless chasms.

The final summary would be something appalli
in its gory magnitude, and would form a record 0
slaughter that would shame the battle of Gettys~
burg, but it might prove a source of entertainment.
to some idle person of a sanguiiiary turn of mind,
and so the ideals sug ested here.

The variety of due in these stories isanother
source of wonder to the reader. and it must be ack-
nowledged that Mr. Wheeler has as prolific an imag-
ination as it is possible to conceive. Every volume
of the series fairly bristles with episodes of a nature
that makes those related in the more ordin 10
cent or 5-cent stories seem as mild as hotel milk, and
hotel milk has been pronounced by scientists to be
the mildest object in nature.

In coming face to face with the notes of a variety
of episodes and adventures in the books which th<
writer made as he hurriedly went through the
eighty volumes. and which he hoped to utilirs
in this article, an ove wering sense of havin
bucked up against the im ssible rears its dress
front and mocks the man w odared to face the task
of doing justice to the sub'ect.

Once or twice a flowing aker of moxie. or nerve
food, has been tossed OK, and with grim determina-
tion the struggle made to sift the material on hand
and condense it into something like a reasonable

aha .

Wlleh a heartfelt sigh the colossal task has, however.
been reluctantly abandoned. There are the eighty
volumes each so crowded with thrills and hearhtugs
that it were madness to hope to do justice to .‘hem
collectively and rank injustice to discriminate be-
tween tliem. The three larger pictures illust: sting-
this article have been selected at random from
eighty just as interesting, and the smaller ones are
per raits of Deadwood Dick, his wife, Calamity J a he.
and Deadwood Dick, Jr.

To abandon the idea of ving a few extracts
from their lives causes infinite pain, but if once '
start were made in that direction. it would be crue
to 1726 Evening Sun’s realrers to sto , and it is there-
fore better not to relate one s ngle adventure.
Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and well
written, and until the glut of ore and supernatural
coura o and success of the names becomes indi
gestib e to the ordinary mind, there is much amuse-
ment to be found in adventures of the Deadwood

Dicks.

The small boy and his la r brother have minds
attuned by nature to absor the music of the com
stant flow of villains’ blood and the nevenceasing
cracking of rides and revolvers that keep the silence
in a rpetual state of unrest thro hout the Dead-
wo Dick series, but it is not so wit amore mature
mind, and unless you are a small boynor a youth
prone to admire the terriflcall heroic literature,
you are advised not to pure the entire e hty
volumes, but to try a sum is here and there in
the list. If you area small y, or the other to w
you doubtless know more about it than the ter.
and so don’t want any advice on the sub ectt

As.a parting tribute to Mr. Wheeler, e owner of
the brain that has evolved and continues to evolve
the most pular bogs’ stories of the da , it is but
fair to ad , and an teresting fact as w l1 that he
has also found time to dash of! some nqye 5 about
Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon; Bob oolf the
Girl Dead-Shot; Death-Face, Detective' id va-
lanche; Wild Edna, the Girl Brizaud' J m Bl ,
Jr., the Boy thnix; Buckhorn Bill; Gold Rifle, he
Shai- shooter; Rosebud Rob; Nugget Ned; id 1, the
Girl liner; Photogra hPhil; Canada Chet; atch-
Eye; Jack Hoyle, t e Young S lator; Gilt-
Edged Dick, the Sport Detective; nnamon Chip
the Girl Sport; Bonanza Bill- Boss Bob, the K1112
Bootblacks; Solid Sam, the B0 Read out; Cap-
tain Ferret, the New York elective: ew York
Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective' Nobby Nick of Neva-
da; Wild Frank, the Buckskin BravO' Fritz, the
Bound Bo Detective; Snoozer, the Boy Sharp;
Apollo Bil, the Trail Tornado C clone Kit, the
Young Gladiator; Sierra Sam, e rontier Ferret;
Jumbo J 0e. the Boy Patrol; Denver Doll. the Detec—
tive Queen; Turk, the Boy Ferret; A 1‘0. 1, the

Dashin Toll-taker; ’Liza Jane, the Girl Miner;
Kelley, ickey&Co. the Detectives of Philadelphia;
Little uick Shot; kangaroo Kit, the Mysterious

anhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood; First.
Yreka Jim, the Gold Gatlierei" Nabob
Kit. the King of Kids; Bic ce Ben;
Wrinkles. the Ni ht Watch Detective: igh ‘Hat
Harry, the Base all lDetective; Sam Slabsides,
the Beg ar Boy Detective; Jim Beak and Pal,
Private etect‘ves; and Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher,

He may therefore be pronounced the StorBtel-
ler from Storytellersville. and the Deadde lob
stories will be his towering monument.

Miner:
class Fred '
Ned; Cool

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

———-“ BEADLE’S

 

 

HALF-DIME

LIBRARE. ~

.N'“

 

 

l Deadwood "irk‘ the Prim-c ol' the‘Road. By E. L. “'hseler.
2 1 eliowstone Jack. By Joyepn L. Badger, Jr.
3 Kunau- Kin , By Buffn 0 Bill. (Hun. Vi . l'. Cody.)
4 ‘he Wild-l orse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and
Captain Frederick W'hittakrr.
5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. By Oil Coomes,
llouhle number l0 rents.
6 Bill lliddou, Trapper. By Edward S. Ellis.
7 The Flying Yankee. By Colonel l’rentisa lngrahnrm
8 Seth Jonca; or, The Cupti;;s oi Lllr‘ Frontier. By E. S. Ellis.
9 Adventures of Baron . unohausen.
:9 Nat Todd: or, The| li‘aie ofglie‘Sioux ainptives. By E. S. E]1i._
The Two Detect ves. y bert . Aiken.
12 Gulllyler’s 'l‘rfivells- SAI)"'Y“K° ‘0 Lilipui, Ind s Var-so to
Broh ingnng. y eun. w t.
18 The Dumb B y. fly on Coomel.
l4 Aladdin; or, he Wonderful Lamp.
15 'j‘he Sea-Cut, By Captain Frederick “'liittalr".
16 Robinson Crusoe. (‘27 Illustrations) By Defoe.
17 R01 11 R0 , the Boy Buccaneer. By Col. Prentisslngrshsm.
18 Bin had i: 0 Sailor. From the Arabian Nights.
19 The Phantom Spy. By liiitfulo Bill.
:11? gto goubtlle Diggesis. BByEladwsrd L. Wheel",
e roll er nge . y ward 5. Ellis.
22 The Sea Pier ent- or The Bm‘R<bi ! ‘ . - , ,
88 Niels o’the Ifht‘; or’, The 30' spy 2312???? 3111.35.12;
34 Diamond Dir '. By Colonel rentiu ingraham.
25 The Boy Cu taln. By Roger Starbuck.
26 Gloves! [00 , the lilliflilo Demo“. 1.“. Edwud L Whed".
’7 A-t’elope Abe! “‘0 Boy Guide. By Oil Comm-s.
:3 gggflsz'rfliggheel’np‘cegf the‘Pistoi. it ~ E.'L. W'khoelor.
.0 Roufln n l . V. .npinin l-rederic Whittn er.
81 K I ,3 F ‘ Roe wood. By Hsrr St. George.
eea-kniie, “rite of the Prairies. B 0 l Connes
32 ’Bob Wooll. the Border Ruffian. By ward L. Wheeler.
88 [‘he (icestn liloodhound. Bv S. W. Flares-
84 Dre on Sol. Hy Captain J. F. C. Adams.
86 The "ixaésiéhe'linyncI?“  By E. L. Wheeler.
.7 The Hidden Lvo'dge.)  llzchauuh.
88 Ned “’Ilde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack.
89 Dcuth- ‘ace, the Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler.
40 Rovini Bell. B John J. Marshall.
41 Lasso ack. the oung Mustanzer. ByOllCoomes.
42 The Phantom Miner. B Edward L. Wheeler-
5'
48 Dicleariill , the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. “Within-

a

 

M stt in Ha . Bv Hsrr ' St. George.
45 0 d Avalanche thoGreatlAnnihilstor. By E. L. “Wheeler.
40 G I“ Eye, the Great Shot of the “West. By J. F. C. Adams.
is N INNS-lo Nat: nr,’l‘hs Forest Captains. By Hsrbnngh.
4 B “ek.J°hn9 the Road—A ent. Bv Joseph E. Bad or, Jr.

9 (ll-aha Oil, the Masked ‘error. By Edward L. heeler.
50 '"t "Mike", ‘he Trn per. By C. E. Lasslle.

51 The Do Ill ea or,

52 The Wfi'l aio. By C. E. silo.

5 JD! Bludsoe Jr., the Boy Phenlx. By E. L. Wheeler.

54 Ned Hazel, the Bo Trapper. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

56 Deadl‘yI-E‘o, lhe nknown Scout. By Bufl‘aio Bill.

58 Nick hi es’ Pet. Bv Captain J. F. C. Adsms.

57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagies. By Edward L. Wheeler.

68 The Border King]; or, The Secret Foe. By 011 Coom“.

59 Did Hickor‘; or, andy Ellls’s Scalp. By Harry St. George.

00 < ndisn. By Csptsin J. F. C. Adams.

Buekhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team. By E. L. Whulor.

.2 The Shadow Ship. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrshsm.

08 The Red Brotherhood. By W. J. Hamilton.

Dandy Jack. By T. C. Hsrbsugh.
g: gl'lll'l clalae rill. AB 'doseph E. Bad r, Jr. ‘
II. e an or, e for a Lifs.
07 Patent-Lest or Joe. B Philip S.  “mm”.
8 The Border Robin Hon . By Buil'alo Bill

02 Gold kills the Sha shootsr. By Edward L. 

to old Zip’s Cabin. yawn. J. r. c. Adams. '

71 Delaware Dickpthe ounfikanger Spy. By Oll Coomos

72 Mad Tor- Western, the exan Ranger. By w.J. amino.

fl Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. .

1’4 Hawk-eye Harry. By Oil Coomcs.

75 The Boy Duelist. B Colonel Prentiss inmham.

g: 6‘00“, tSBCrrflv-Kilh erfi 3 Albert W. Aikon.

0 an up 9, t e o ravo. B E. L.

raging?- iz-vgrwr  ’ w“"""
p s ant rap r. Albert W. .

60 Reset- 1301). By unit? L. W’heslsr. “ha

31 Llfhtlil' o. By Captain J. F. C. Adams.

“ K g fl.p¢foo¢ the Wood-Hawk.

88 Rollo, the Boy Ranger.

84 idyl the Girl Miner.

3uc Buck

e Underground Camp. By A. C. ll'OlI .

B T. C. Hsrhan h.

By Olinoomss. ‘

By Edwsrd L. Wheeler.

85 rII. By Captain J. F. C. Adams.

SC liald Rock, the Man from Texas. By G. Waldo Rm.
8.7 The and Pirates. By Ca tsiu Ms M Reid.

88 Photo raph l’hll. the Boy leuth. y E. L. Wheeler.
89 ndlll Ji . B the author of“Jack Hsrkawsy."

’0 I‘he Dre-ls Rider. B George Waldo Browne.
’1 The Captain of the C uh.

 

By Bracobridze Hem ng.

92 Can ado Chat, the Cnunurfelter Chief. By E. L. hsslor.
’8 The B Miners. B Edward S. Ellis.
.4 Midni t Jack. the sd-Agent. By T. G. Harbsngh.

05 The B vol Rovers. By Lieul. Col. Haultine.
’6 w.tcfi.Eyc, the Shadow. By Edward L. Wheeler.
97 The (lutlaw Brothers. By John J. Marshall.
08 Robin flood, the Outlswed Esrl- B ' Prof. Gilderslsovs.
99 The Tiger ofTaos. By Georu sldo Browne.
100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By E. L. thslsr.
101 Jack llsrksway in New York. Brscshridge Hsmyng.
10' nick Bend.Eye. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrslisrn.
103 The Lloa ofthe Sea. By Colonel Delis Sara.
1 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edwsrd 1.. Wheeler.
10‘ on] R.», the Hungar. Iggy (éspésiiiiHLHnllmss.
l the Gil e. y . . sr sug i.
no)? mtgvélwélll. B James L. Bowen.
108 Darin, ng , the con Bear-Killer. By H. St. Georg.
109 Deadwood ck as De ctlve. By E. L Whulsr.
110 The Black Steed oi’thc Prairies. By J. L. Bowsn.
111 The Sea-Devil. By Colonel Prontiss lngrshsm.
11s The Mus Hunter. By Burton Sue
3 Jack lloyle the Young Spacukm- 812' 5-  Whaler.
Black Schooner. y 0 0? r “C -
if: r“ “a”. i” “awaitiniznszm.
o ussar a on. yo. .
lit-{Edged Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.
ill Sonora, the Bow Detective. By Charles Morris.
Esta-g Dara or,Ths King of the Plains. By J. E. Bad‘u,
he Branded iiand. By Frank Dinnont. '
:Isallol Chip, the Girl Spgrtbhliy‘r  Vi healer.
ii Hardy, ths Boss Boy. y sr es i orris.
Klow 0h rle th “'nite Mustang". By T.C. Hsvhaugh.
‘PDY-s fillet-Tezanf By Geor e Gleason. .
BOnIlla Bill. Miner. By dward L. ii heelsr.
Picayune Pcte. By Chm... Morris.
“:1 i'Fire. till: Boss of the RoadIll By Fratp‘thumont.
C Olin rivatccr. B ' . mum is .
lgggvzpodl’sihur’. gliluhhilefhixly Edward L. Wheeler.
,. (5 ve (- . y I nr es orris.
art: grl'oldendilllsmd‘.e By Song: Walgo Flimwne.
unte an r. wsr . . . s.
lloss Bob the King of the Bhothlacks. By E. L. Whulor.
{Euro Shot Seth. By on Coomes.
Nul't‘il Paul. By C. DunninLr Clark.
-Tfihlifl{ulwk filtdliyélnséph  Badger, .[llnid
1‘ on an. stsninyno s.
“Wide ill 1: Edwsr L K'heeler
‘Bfllle syach Jyr. By T. c. Hsrbsugh.
“0 Blazes. By Frsnk Durnnnt.
‘1 Earn, the Boy Ros Agent. By Ed. L Wheeler.
e.'d§°lnesHarls-I.B ragtime. Morris.
1,. - ace a. By, oomes.

44 [It
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147 \Vill “'lldiire, the Thoroughbred. By Charles Morris.
14 Sharp Sum By J. Alexander Patten.
149 A Game of Gold.
160 Lance and Lasso.
15] Panther Paul, the Prairie l’irste.
152 Black lit-as, Will Wildfire’s Racer. By Charles Morris.
153 Eagle Kit, the Boy l‘lemon. By Oil Coomes.
154 The Su'urd Hunters. liy Cilpt. Frederick “'hittaker.
155 Gold Trigger, iln- Sport. By ’1. (I. linrhnugh.
156 Dcadwoud Dick 01' Deadwood. By E L. Wheeler.
15? Alike )[crry, the Harbor Police Buy. By Charles Morris.
158 Fanc Frank of Colorado. By Buffalo Bill.
159 The Last Captain. By Cumuiii Frederick Whittaker.
160 The Black Giant. By Joel-pl. E. llmlger, Jr.
161 New York Nell. By Edwnrd L. Who. Ior.
“'ill Wildiire iu the Woods. By Charles Morris.
Little Texunz this Young Muslsnger. By ()li Coomes.
Dandy Rock (A l’led e. By George Wuldo Browne.
’ Billy Baffage, the tailrond Buy. By Charles Morris.
Hickory arry. By Hurry St. George.

Asa Scott, the Steamboat Bov. By Edward Willstt.
Deadly Dash. By Juseph E. Badger, Jr.
’lorrusdo Tom. By T. C. Hnrhaugh.
A Trump Curd. By Charles Morris.
Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont.
Thunderbolt Tom. B)‘ "RWY Si- GOOVKO-
Dnnd Rock’s Rival. By Gnome Wflldo 3'0"!“-
Bob ockett. the Boy Dodger. By Charles Morris.
(.‘aptaln Arizona. By Philip S. Warne.
The “0 Runaway. By Lieutenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N.
Nobby Id; of Nevada. By Edwsrd L. Whee er.
01d Solitary. the Hermit Trapper. By Oll Comnes.
Bob Rockett, the llnnk Runner. By Charles Morris.
The Sea Trailer. lly Lieutenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N.
Wild Frank of Montana.
Little Hurricane. the Bov Ca tain.
The Hidden Hand. By Char as Morris.
4 The Boy Trailers. By Joseph E. Badger Jr.
Evil Eye. King of the Cattle Thieves. By Frank Dumont.
Cool llesmond. By Colonel Dells Sara.
Fred flalysu-dT the Lil's Boat Boy. By Charles Morris.
Ned Tel'nple, t in Bordor Boy. I? T. l‘. Hll'lmligh.
Bob Ros-ken, the Cracksman. y Charles Morris.
"and Burke. By William R. Eyster.
Bulls 0 Billy, the Bo ' Bullwhncker. By Capt. A. B. Taylor.
(‘aptain Kit. the Wil »o’-tlie-Wis . B ' Lleut. Perry.
9 The Ladfi Road-Agent. By Piiilip  “'arna.
194 Buiralo ill’fl Bet. By Captain Taylor.
195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By Edwsrd L. Wheeler.
196 Shadowed. By Charles Morris.
19? Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col. Prentiss ingraham.
198 Arkansaw, the Man with the Knife. By T. C. Hsrbaugh.
199 Featherweight. By Edward Willett.
200 The Boy Bedoulns. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
201 The Black "illl Jezebel. By Edward L. Wheeler.
20. Pros ect Pete, of the Boy Brigade. By 01] Coomss.
208 The (W Pardl. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
204 Gold Plume. the Bov Bandit. 8 Col. Prentiss lnzrsham.
205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom. By .dwsrd L. Wheeler.
206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. By Charles Morris.
20'! Navfio Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. By T. C. Hsrbangh.
208 The oy Hercules. By 01! Coornes.
209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective.
210 Faro Frank of lligh Pine. B William R. Eystsr.
211 Crooked Cale. By Joseph E. B ger, Jr.
212 Dashing Dave. the Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris.
213 Fritl to the Front. Bv Edward L. Wheeler.
214 Wolfgan . the Robber oftho Rhine. By Ca t. Whittaker.
215 Captain ullct. the Raider King. By T.  Hsrbsngh.
218 Bison Bill. the Prince of the Rains. By Col. P. lngrahun.
21'! Captain Crock-Shot. By Edward l,. Wheeler.
218 Tiger Tom. the Texan Terror. By Oll Conmss.
219 Despard. the Duelist. By Philip S. Warns.
220 Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Scnpsgrars. B Chas. Morris.
221 Sugar-Coated Sam. By Edward L- Whoa or.
222 Grit. the Bravo Sport. By Col Prentiss lngrahsm.
223 ozgrk Alf. King oithr Mountain. By Edward Wilistt.
224 Dashing Dick. By 011 Cannes.

5 San Charcoal. the Prerni‘pin Darky. By Charles Morris.
226 Snoozer, the By Sharp. y Edward L. Wheeler.
’27 Dusky Darrell. Trapper. By E. Emerson.
228 Little Wildfire. By Oil Coomes.
229 Crimson Kate. Bv Colonel Prentiss llimh-m.
280 The Yankee I! ah. By C. Dunnins Clark.
281 Pluck Phil. of t is Mountain Trail. By T. C. Hsrhsngh.
282 Gold- ust Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler.
’88 Joe Buck ofAn els. Br Albert W. Aiken.
284 Old Rocky’s “l 0 cos.” “KOBuchlfin Sun-
285 Shadow Sans, the hirsuan y. By Charlss Morris.
286 Apollo Bill. By Edward L. Wheeler.
2 Lose r, the Cowboy Captain. By Col. Ingrshsrn.
288 The Parson Detective. Bv Oil Coomss.
289 The Gold-seeker Guide. By Ca tnln Ml?“ Reid-
240 C clone Kit. By Edward L. 'hae er.
241 D II Bravo and His Bear Pards. By T. C. Harbaugh.
24.9 The '1". u Blown.” By Charles Morris.
248 The Disguised Guido. H)“ 0” Coomes-
4 Sierra Stun. lly Edward L. Wheslsr.
245 Merle, the Middy. BV 0910"“ WWW" inn-hum
2% Giant, George. By Buc 'skln Sam.
2 Old Grizzly and Ilia Pets. By Capt.“ Bruin” Adsms.
243 Sierra Sam‘s Secret. By Edward L. Wheeler.
249 Milo Homer, the Animal king. lily Capt. rainwnnuku.
250 The Midshipman Mutineer. y Col. P. lngruhsm.
251 Lllhhiou” Li‘e. By Captain J. F. C. Adams.
252 Dick Dgahawg . By Charles Morris.
253 Sierra Sam’s ard. By Edward L. Wheeler.
:54 The Half-Blood. 3." Edward 8. Ellis.
255 (‘aptaln Apollo. B\' T. C. Harhauuh.
and Young Kcntuck. By Cu tain tum-i. Wilton.
257 The Lost Hunters. By npt. J. F. C. Adams.
258 Sierra Sam's Seven. By Edward L. Wheeler.
259 The Golds-n Harpoon. By Roger Staronck.
280 Dare-Devil Dun. By Oll Cunnies.

1 Fergus Fcarnau ht. By George L. Aiken.
282 The Young Sleutfiss. By Charles Morris.
268 Deadwood Di k’a Divide. By Edward L. Wheeler.
:04 The Floatinngeather. By oi. p. lnzraham.
285 The T or Tamer. By Ca tsin Fred. Whittaker.
286 Killb'ar. the Guide. By nsign “'arren.
2B? The Buckskin Detective. By T. C. Harbanzh.
268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail. By E. L. Wheeler. -

‘ By Col. Prentiss ingraham.

" t‘By Ca talicn MarkSWéllhm.
e an or. dwsrd . lis.
2T2 Minksk Is Mike. By Oil Cosmos.
213 Jumbo Joe. By Edward L. Whmisr.
274 Jolly Jinn. By Charlfls Morris.
27") Arizona Jack. By Buckskin Sam.
276 Merle M ontc’s Cruise. By Colonel Prentiss lngraham.
277 Denver Doll. By Edward 1.. Wheeler. '
27" The Three Trapper-s. By Major Lewis W. Canon.
229 Did Winch. the Ritlr Kinr. iii' '1‘. C. Hal-haugh.
2&0 Merlc Montc‘a Futc. By (.‘nl. Prentiss lngrnham.
281 Denver Doll’s Victory. liv Edward 1.. Wheeler.
282 Tim Ty o Detective.
288 lnrllrn no.
284 The lira Mnrnudcr. lly (lair-Mel Prentiss inmiism.
2H5 Denver Doll‘s Decoy. lly Edwsrd l..'Wlwol.-r.
2S6 Josh. the Boy Tcndcrfuot.

By Edward L. Wheeler.
By Captain Frederick Whittaker.
By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

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By Edward L. Wheeler.
By 011 Coomes.

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By Edward L. Wheeler.

lh‘ Edward “’illélf.

lly Capt. Mark Wilton.

2ft? Hilly Blue-AEme Iiy ('nlnni-i l‘raniiM lnn’rnhnin.
288 The Scalp Kin . By Captain .1. i“. (J. Adams.
29‘!) Jolly Jim’s Jo . lli- (‘hmh-s Morris.

200 Little Foxfire. By Oil Comm-r,

291 Turk, the Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler.
292 Sancho Pedro. By Major E. L. St. Vraln.
29‘ Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper. By Captain Come}.

liy Mainr Lewis \\'. Canton. 1;

 

 

294 Dynamite Dan.
295 Fearless Phil. By Edwsrd Willstt.

296 Denver Doll’s Drift. By Edwsrd L. Wheeler.

29': The Tarantula of Taos. By Buckskin Sun.

298 The “'sster-llound. By Charles Morris.

299 A No. 1, the Dashing Toll~Taksr. By Edward L. M
800 The Sky Demon. By 011 Coomes.

301 Leadville Nick. By Major E. L. St. Vraln.

302 The Mountain Detective. By T. C. Hubaugh.

808 ‘lea Jane, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler.

304 The Dead Shot Dandy. By Colonel Prentiss lngnhan
805 Daahuway. of Dakota. By Charles Morris.

306 Neck-Tie Ned. By Major H. B. Stoddard.

80? The Strange Pard. By Buckskin Sun.

308 Keno Kit, the Boy Bugler’s Pard. By Col. 1’. Ingrshaln.
809 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. By E. L. Who-hr.

810 The Barranca “'oli‘. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

811 The Roving Sport. By Edward Willstt.

812 Rcdtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. By Maj. E. L. St Vl‘shs
818 Cimarron Jack. By Frederick Dewey.

814 The Mysterious Marauder. By CoL P. lngrsksm.
816 Ned, the'Cabln Boy. By Jack Farragut.

816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card 0! Arizona. By T. C. Harbsugh.
317 Peacock Pete. By Lieutenant Alfred Thorns.

818 Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo! By Buckskin Sun.

819 The Black Rider. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

320 The Sea Sorceress. By Jack Farragut.

821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen. By Edward L. Wheeler.
822 Nemo, the Detective. By Edward Willott.

828 Arkansaw Jack. By Harry Hum!-

824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. By en. Mom...

825 Kelley. Hickey sk Company, the Sleuths of Philsdsiphis.
By Edwsrd L. W seler.

826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notice. By T. C.
Harbsugh. -

827 Creeping Cat, the Caddo. By Buckskin Sam.

828 The Sky Detectives. By Major Mickey Free.

829 Red-Skin Tom. By Harry Huard.

830 Little Quick-Shot. By Edward L. Whulsr.

881 Black Nick, the Demon Rider; By Capt. Fred. Whittaken
882 Frlo Fred. By Blt‘kskln Sam.

888 Brimstone Bob and His Lightning Horse Quar-
tette. By Major . L. St. Vrain.

884 Kangaroo Kit; or. The Mysterious Minor. By E. L. Wheeler.
885 old Double Fist. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

888 Big Benson. By T. C. Harbsugh.

88? Bell Bird, the Csro King. By W. J. Hamilton.

888 A Tough Boy. By Philip S. Warns.

889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. By Edward L. Wheeler.

840 Clip, the Contortionist. By Edward Willett.

841 Tony Thorns. the Vagabond Dotsctivs. By Charles Home.
842 The Mountain Devil. By Harry Hazard.

848 Manhattan like. By Edward L. Wheeler

844 The Fighting Trio. By Buckskin Sam.

845 Pltlless Matt. By T. C. Harbauzh.

846 Rapier Raphael. By Major H. B. Stoddard.

C47 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats. By Edwsrd L. Whaler.

B48 Fire-Heels: or, Old Skinillnt the Death-Shadow. 3’
Roger Sturhuck.

849 “'ild “'olf. the “’aeo. By Buckskin Sam.

850 Red Ralph. the River Rover. By Nod Bnntlint.
851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced. By Edwsrd L. Wholsn
852 Tombstone Tons. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrsin.

858 The Reporter-Detective. By Clisrlss Morris.

864 Big Horn Ike the Hill Tramp. By Rog-r Storm.

855 The King oi'the “'oods; or, Daniel Boone’s Last Trail.
By Joseph E. ltsdgrr. Jr.

356 Cool Sons and Pard. By T. C. Finland.
857 The Ranch Raiders. By Buckskin Sun.
858 First-Class Fred, ihs Gent from Gopher. By E. L. Wheel".

85” "It rnngn Dave. the Yvnng “'rostler Champion. By Maj. E
L. Hi. \'ruin. .

860 Silver-Mask. the Man of Mystery. By J. C. Cowdrid.
861 The Phantom Lighthouse. By Roger Starbuck.

862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim. By Edwsrd L. Wheeler.

368 Little Tornado. By Philip S. Wsrne.

364 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger. By Buckskin Sam.

805 Baltimore Ben. By A. P. Morris.

866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. By T. C.Hsrbsugh..
867 Wide-Awake Joe. By Charles Morris.

868 Yreka Jisa. the Gold-Gui hes-or. By E. L. Wlisslor.
869 Shasta. the Gold Ring. By J. C. Cow-drielz.

870 llreukcr Den. the Reef-Runner. ily Rugur Siarhuck.

871 Klngbolt Chris. th Youn H d-S '
By Maj. E. L. St. Vrsi: ' .r he“ De‘ec‘h‘v

372 Yreka Jilg’l Prize. By Edward L. Wheeler.

378 Little Jingo; or, the Queer Pard. By Philip S. Warn...

824 Gold-Dust Tom. By George H. Mom.

875 Chlota, the Creek. By Buckskin Sam.

876 California Joe’s First Trail. By Capt. F. Whiitshg.

87? Bsnodel. the Boy Rover. By Col. Prsntlss lngrsbsn.

378 Nlbob Nod. By Edward L. Wheeler.

879 Larry. the Leveler. By Charles Morris.

8230 Avalanche Air. By Msjm E. L. St. Vrsln.

881 Islandera Bill; or, Frio Frank to the Front. By Buckskh
Inn.

By T. C. Harbsngh.

892 Cool Kit. the King of Kids. By Edwsrd L. Wheeler.
8.98 The Indian Pilot. By Col. Prentiss lnzrshsm.

384 Whip-King Joe. the Boy Rsnchsro. By Oll Coon-nos.
885 Yrcka Jim‘s Joker. By Edward L. Wheeler.

3‘16 Captain Cutlass, the Ocean Spider. By '1‘. C. Hubsngh.
887 “'ssrpath “'lll, the Boy Phantom. By Col. P. lnxrshsm.
888 Little (lh-my. By Philip 5. wma.

A New issue Every Tuesday.

The Half-Dime Library is for .le by all nswsdoslm, In v
sonts per copy, or sont by mail on rim-int ofds cents sle.
BEADLE AND ADAMS. Publishers.
98 William Sm“. New I“.

 

  

 

BEADLE’S*HALF-DIMErLIBRARY.

Mlt’shed Every Tuesday. Eanh Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents, by all Newadeala'o.

 

El

 

BY OLL COOM ES.

146 Kit Bondy, Detective: or, Silver Star, the Boy Knight.
168 Kit Bandy In Texas; or. The Young Mustang".
208 Kill Randy‘s Catch; or, The liov Hercules.

422 Kit iiundy's Right Bower: or. Bnhy Sumthe Buyclant
444 Kit linndy‘s Swoop; or, Little Buckskin. tno Centaur.
4?“ Kit iiundy's Bilek Scheme; or. Old Toni Rattler.
tiill Kit, Randy‘s Deliverunee; or, Banner Ban.

6)“) Klt, Randy’s Par-d; or, Dauntless Dan. the Freelance.
’69] Kit iiulsdy Rattled'or,'l‘heinianttiinnt.

795 Kit iinndy In lied lilsin: or, 'ihv Young Whirlwind.
799 Kit linmiy‘n lit; Ilustle: “I’VSWMIQ‘ Kink SM"-

80 L Kit listudy’s Brigade; or, Dan, tiit‘ Mountain Guide.
:92? Kid Randy's lirixnde In Arizona.

989 kit liundy’s Stur Engagement.

53 Jack Drew. the Neurosis; nr, Eagle Kit. the Rev Demon.
32 Jtsek Drew’d Drop; or, Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain.
202 Jack Drew In Deadwood; or, Prospect Pete.

2? Keen Knife on Guard: or. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guido.
31 Keen-Knife. the Prince of the Prairies.
5 Vagabond Joe, the Young “'amlerlng Juw.
18 The Dumb Spy.
41 Lain-o Juek. the Young Mustang".
58 The Border King]: or, The Secret Fee.
71 Delaware "ii-k, t a Young Ranger Spy.

—

74 Hawk-e 'e "arr the Young Trap r Rsnpr.
88 Rollo, t e no I on or or,1‘!:e oin-
184 Sure Shot Set , the 0y Riflemnn.

148 Sear-Face San], the Silent Hunter.

178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper.

’18 Tiger Tom, the exas Terror.

224 Dushln Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Cal“

’28 Little Ildiire, the Young Prairie Nomad.
288 The Parson De teotlvex or The Little Bangor.
248 The Disguised Guide: or. ili'lid Raven, tho Bangor.
360 Dare-Devil Dun, the Young Prairie Ranger.
.72 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharp-homer.

i890 Little Foxfire, the 80 soy; or, Old (‘aieb Arbocklo.
I800 The 8k Demon; or, sinbolt, the Ranger.
'CH4 “'hlp- In: Joe, the Boy Rnuchrro.

409 here-Isles; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger.

417 “'ebi’oot Monte, the Tramp Detective.

45? Wingedfoot Fred: or, 0m Polar Saul.

468 Tamarne Tom, the Big Trsppor Boy.

482 Stonewall llob, the Boy Trotan.

562 lilunderinz "nail, the Hermit Boy Trappol.
852 Don Barr. the Plains Freelance.

("0 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountaineer.

'37s Ill Island Harry, the lesni Rifleuisn.

828 1’0 'cr Jnek. the Detective Sport.

BY T. J. FLANAGAN.

909 Midshipman Dare. the Plrnte Catcher.

925 The on. Cowboy Captain.

988 The Two . Idehipsnen; or, The} Corsair-Chaser'h first
rm”. ‘

BY DAN DUXNING.

{.16 (‘nlot Jar-k, the Secret Survive Spy.

‘36? l :se and Jack. the invincibles. or,'l'he Diabolioal Three.

‘stt‘s Detective Dave's (‘lose Cull.

N'"l Furl-oi Fox nml Ills Girl Ferret.
‘nrrei Fox’rs Sweep-Stokes.

s‘m 3;
B" GEURGE C. JENKN-

’ (:lt Thur Owney the Unknown. I

Git Thar Owney’u Pledue.

The Demon Doctor; or. Deildhold, tho Kid Detective.
Double-Curve Dan, the Pitclwr Detective.

Flute, toe Singer Detective; or, Owney in it New Role.

The Pitcher Dcteetive’s Foil; or, Dan‘s Double Play.
The Oeems Deteotlve: or. The LMtCruise ofthe Black Bear.
The Pitcher Deteetlve‘e Ton-heat Tussle.

736 Larry the Thoroughbred: or, Beaten on Evary Side.
7?9 irons "and, the Churmed Detertire

854 Uncle Sam’s Detective In Chicago.

BY “'M. G. PATTEN.

629 Violet, Vane: the' Velvet Sport: or, The Jubilee otJncktown
663 Violet Vane s \ Ietory; or. The Jasper City Clean Out.
898 Violet and I) ally, the Posy Fords.

"(05 Violet Vune’s Yew; or. T e Crni'ty Detective’s (Sr-it.
724 Violet Vune’o Vesixcnnee; or, The Wipenut.

; O Violet Vnne’s Ver let; or, The Game at Collin City.

8
4
'75

l.

l Violet Vane, the Ventrllt uist Vidocq; or, S ort vs. Sport.
0 Violet. Vane, the Vanqnls ed. or. The Life . irugghu
768 Violet Vane‘o Vision: or, The Fiery Hand of Fate.
#9 The Diamond Sport]; or, The Uoubio ll‘acs ot'Bcd Rock.
§‘ 9 Ca tam Mysterg: or. ive in Ono.
‘581 Duals) Dare the port from Dem-or.
l‘8? Old Bombshell, the Ranger Detective. .
I104 iron Fern the Mun oi Fire: or, Among the Vultures.
’01 The Boy ramp Detective: or. The Double GripWituess
IO41 Dismal Dave’s Dandy l’ord; or,TheClnetOCIDt-CI|W
.651 Round Boy rank. the Young Amateur Detective
682 Wlld Vulcan, the Lone-Range Rider.
714 Old Misery the Man from Missouri.
774 Clear-Grit Cu], the Never-Sav-Die Detective.
789 Ram Sheridan, lhe Secret Service Special.
90“ Cowboy Steve the Ranch Msscot.
820 Nobhy Nat, tho Tonderfoot Detective.
880 Shar er Stoke’a Double Deal.
95'! Spot r liobiss New York.
866 Spotter Bob’s Bowery Racket.

BY COLON EL BELLE SARA.

:28 The Lion ofthe Sea; Or, The Vailed Lady.
' 6 Cool Desmond: or. Tho Gambler’s Big Gaps.

nr CAPTAIN FIXED. WIllTTAKlB.
The Sea-Ca}: or. The Witch of Dorien.

9

18

29 The Dis-h ’a e or, Tho Doge’s Daughter.

48 Dick Darling. t o ony Express Rider.
1'0 Lance and I‘m: or. The Children of tho Chloe.
154 The Ilword lllsnters; or. The Land oithe lie hantRldors
159 The Lost Ca tall: or. Skipper Jsbos Comn's 
.00 The Boy 11 coins: or. 'I‘h Brothero o! the Pinned lasso
.14 “’olflang, the Robber oi the ine.

 

.49 Milo Romer tho Animal King; or, Round tho World.
'85 The TI or Tamer: or, The League of the Jungle.

Sch. the Demon Rider. 1
95 Cailforaia Joe‘s War Trail.

BY CAPT. J. l". C. ADAMS.

l 84 Oregon Bolt or Nick Wliiflles's Boy Spy.
“‘6 Glass- Eye. the Croat Shot of the West.
54 Rod llnzel. the Bo Trapper.
56 Nick Whlfllea’s ct; or, in The Valley of Death.
*0 The White indian; or. The Scout oft o Yoiiowoblto.
0 01d II ’I Cabin: or, The Greenhorn in tho Woods.
g1 Lightn Ill Jo, the Terror of the Prairie.
nek Buckrarsu or, Ben, the Female Trs nor.
7 d Grizzly and “Is Pets: or. The WildPHnutr'
1 ht-house “‘0. or, Osceola, tho l'irebrsnd.
:‘T 0 Lost Hunters; or The Underground Calf
88 The Goal. Kings or. The Human Thusdsrsol’

 

BY '1‘. C. llARBAUGll.

28 Niel; 0’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy oi'76.
3’? The Hidden Lodge; or The Lilllt' Hunter.
4? Nightln nle Nut' or, Tne Fill’t‘fil. (7a taint.
Okllssmiy, “0k; or. The (lullnwa of the ( regon Trail.
82 Kit llurefoot, the Wond-linwk; or. Old Powder-I'm
94 M ldnight Joe : or, The lioy ’I‘rnpper.
106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen.
128 Klown Charley . the White Mnstnnger.
189 Jud 'e Lynch Jr.: or. The lluv Vigilante.
15") Grill Trigger. the S wrt; or, T m Girl Avenger.
169 'l‘ornullo 'l‘om; or, njunJack From Red Core.
1%“ Ned Temple, the Border lioy; or, Th.- )lnd Hunter.
15m Arknnvuw: or. The QlI-evn oi Futo’s Revenge.
20? Nursflo Nit-k. the llov Gold Hunter.
215 (‘uptnln liulletx «r, Little Toolinot's Crusade.
225i I’lueky Phil: or. Ron. the Red Jezebel.
241 Ill" liruyo; or, Tim itruigns ol'thu Rockiel.
255 {‘ssptaln Apollv, mo. King-Pin or Rowle.
267 The linekskln Deteetlve: of. Th9 Kin! 0f RM“"&.
279 Old “'inehz or, The iillt‘kakin Desperado“.
294 Dvnnmite Dan: or, The Buwie Blade of (lochetopa. ‘
802 'i‘ e Mountains Detective: or, The Trigger Bar Bully.
818 Illrl Eollpae, Trump Curd oi Arisona.
826 The Ten I'nrds: or, The Terror ol'Tnke-Notico.
836 iii]: liessaont or, The Queen of the anno.
845 l’ltilefll Mott: or, Red Thunilerholt's Secret.
856 (Tool Suns smd Par-4H or The'l‘orrible Six.
366 Velvet Foot. the indiiui (Martin.
8N6 ('nptaln Cutlass: or. " he Bv-i-cnneer'r, Girl Foo.
898 Rough Rob or, The 'l win Champions of Blue Blues.
411 The Hilken .nssot or,’i‘he Rossc Ranch Robin.
41H l-‘ellx Fox. the Boy Spotter: or, The Gold Gang of New York.
425 Texas Trump. the Border Rattler.
486 Phil Flush. the New ‘i'er‘x Fox; onTheMysteryofRooxn ii.
445 The City \‘umnlresx or, Red Rain-'- Pigeon.
46] One Agninst Fii’t y; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar.
470 The Boy Shadow: or, Felix Fox's Hunt.
477 The Exeeislor hport: or. The Washington Spotter.
499 Single flight. the One-Eyed Sport.
502 Branded lien. the Night Ferret.
512 godger DIek. th» Wimrils y Detective.
521 odzer Dlek‘n ll eat Do gel or, The Gotham Gold Gang.
528 llt‘ox and Felt-011.01.- hem-ryshsdows.
58S Dodger Dick; the Dock Ferret.
548 Dodger Dlek s Double: nr,The Rival Boy Detectives.
558 Dodger Dlek’a Desperate Case.
5‘"; "(Niger DIek. ihv Buy Vidm‘q; or, The Gang of Three.
578 The Two fihndowa: or, Dodger Dick’s Ship Gains.
I582 Dod er Dick’s Drop' or, The Mun from Jersey.
594 Litt e Lon. the Street-Singer Detective.
810 Did Skinner, the Gold Shark; or Tony Shsr on Guard.
626 The Champion Pnrda; or, The Luclloro silver Bar.
687 Dick Donn, the Dock Rov Detective.
645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp.
858 Billy linntiim, tin- Bov Bonnie.
671 Jersey Jed. the lioV Hustler: or. Shadowing the Shadower.
6H5 "itpr illlu‘h, the Buy-Muslt-lnn M‘ctive.
701 Photo ruph 1“ red. the (‘sunern Slim .

 

715 “'ltli- . wake Len, ilw Qlltikei'cily «not.

732 Dari-y Deli. the anmnvm Dutevlin-z or, 'I‘rnpping Big Gslnos
7-12 liiliy \\ inks. thi‘ ilr-ll l"l‘}‘Dl'it'1'il\'t‘.

75-1» llllly \\'I|:ks, tin~ i’uas l'lov Shadow.

76%" Eagle, Ned, the Pay on fluurd: or, The (‘amp Spiders.

Th‘O Tonintwuy Tom. tln- Rul Wizard

.827 The linntnm Sport.

SIS Clip. the Buttery Ferrel; 0:, oncx .ourrs l‘osl Play
1K9? Dairy Doon‘s Big Bounce.

905 Dnmiv Nugget. tlu- lim- Shadow.
921 The Boy from Denver.

BY CllA “LES MORRIS.

18 Will Somera, the Boy Detective.
22 Phil llnril , the Boss lit-y.
26 l’h-nyune ’oto: or, Nicodemus, the Dog Doth
80 Detective hick: or. The Hero in Rags.
42 llandsomelliarry, the Baothlnrk Detective.
47 \"lll Wildil re, the Thoroughbred.
5 "look "on. Will Wildfire’s Rurer.
Mike Merry the Harbor Police Boy.
Will “'ildlire In the Woods.
Dilly Baggage. the Railroad Bo .
Trump Card; or. “'1” “'lldifre Wine and loss-
liob Rocket.” or, hiyaterles ot‘Now York.
lioh lloekett. the Bank Runner.
The Hidden "and or, “'ill Wildfire’s Revenge.
7 Fred llnlynrd, the lie Boat Boy; or. The Snuggle“.
189 Rob lloekett: or. Driven to the “Us”.
196 Hhadowed; or, Bot) Rorkett’l Fight {or Lite.
206 Dark Pull], the Tiger King.
212 Dashing Dave. the Dandy Detective.
220 Tom Tanner: or. Th.- Black Sheep oi the Flock.
2.5 Rum Charcoal the Premium Dsrky.
’85 Shadow lions. the Messenger Boy.
2491 The Two “ Bloods "1 or. Shenandoah Bill and HlsCsng.
25! Dlek Dashnway x or. A Dakota Boy in Chicago.
262 The Young Sharps; Oi. Rollickiug Mike’s Hot Trail.
'74 Jolly Jim. the Detective Ap rentlre.
289 Jolly Jim’s Job; or. The young Detective.
299i The Water-Hound: or, The Young Thoroughbred.
805 Dashaway. of Dakota: or. A Wntern Lad in Quaker City.
824 Ilnlph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective.
841 Tony Thorne. the Vagshond Detective.
858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer's Blissard.
88‘? Wide-Awake Joe: or. A Boy nt’tha Times.
.79 Larry. the Levelerz or. The Bloods oi the Boulevard.
408 l’lreily Jack. the River-Rat Detective.
423 The Lost Finger: or. The Enirnpped Cashier.
425i Fred Fl. er. the Reporter Detective.
482 lnvlnclb e Lognn. tho Pinkerton Ferret.
0 Bill Brink, the Jolly Vagabond.
406 W! e-Awnke Jerry, Detective; or Entombed Min.
479 Deter-the Dodge: or. The Mvsterv ofFrank Hearty.
48" \Vild Diek Rack et: or, How He Fought for Honor.
‘0] Boots. the Boy Fireman : or. Too Sharp for the Sharper.
but} The Seeret *ervlee Dov Detective.
the Kid: or. A Limb Among Wolves.
raee oi Ark ansasx or. The Wolfiu the Fold.
“55 Plueky Paul, the lio Rpeeulntor.
667 Bob and Sam, the Dale. Detectives.
II09 The Curb-tone Deter-(Ive: or. Harry Hale’s Big Boat.
75? Deter-ti Frank’s Sweep-sin or.
869 Ned No min. the Cumin Broker.
3?“ Turkey Billy. the Shine-'em-up Detective.
91? Flnflh Lightning, the Mountain Mascot.

BY ALBERT ‘1'. AIKEN.

11 The Two Deteetivest or, The Fortunes oia Bowery Girl.
70 Abe Colt. the Crow-Killer.
79 Sol Ginger, the Ginnt'i'ra per.
.88 Joe lint-l. ofAngela sum llIs Roy Pard.
447 New York Nat. A This ofTricks and Traps ll Gotham.
459 New En laml Nli'kl or. The Fortunes ofa ton-dim.
4M Nimble . Iek, the Circus Prince.
498 Tnos Ted. tne Arisnnn Sport.
.10 Cool Colorado. the l'lnlf-Brved Detective
518 Cool Colorado in New York: or. The COWbOY'l nth-i

BY CAPT. ALFRED ii. TAYLOR D. 1‘. A.

ll“ Buflalo Billy. the nov Rnilwhacke'.
194 BnIl'alo lilll’s net 1 or. The Gambler Guido.

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BY J. W. OSBON.

.69 The lnvnl Giants ofNowhar’.
98 (laetus liurr. the Man from Hard Luck.

587 Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow.

564 Powder Phil. the Boy Miner. or, The Man WithoatsPfl.

 Ilifllly Borg“, they Vieternn Detective. M a
‘ . tt e i tiling s .eaxue- or, The yster oitno is]

683 l’lueky Haul, the an Prmltgctor. ’

31;)1 :i‘rol't‘i‘Jll'ust 1:;in,‘tlie'i'mill Pstrrii. M a“ W
)5 {to uat sin a (But. I' or. eckiess

928 Gold-Dust Don’s Snap-Shot. .

HY JOSEPH E. BADGER. JR.

2 Yellowstone Jack; or, The Trs r.
48 lilaek John the Road—Agent; or. e Outlaw’skotsooo.
85 llurrieune Sill: or, Mustang Sam and His Peri.
119 Mustanf Sam or.The King oi'tho Plains.
186 Night-i nwk 'lt: or, The Daughter of the Ranch.
144 Dainty Lanee the Boy Sport.
151 Panther Paul: or,l')ainty Lance to the Rescue.
160 The lilack Giant: or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy.
168 Deadly Dosh; or, Fighting Fire with Fire.
184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lanes on tlis War-l“
208 The Do Pardsz 0r. Dainty Lance Unmasks.
211 Crooke Cale, the Caliban oi Celestial City.
810 The liarranea “'oif: or, Tho Beautiful Decoy.
319 The Black Rider; or, The Horse-Thisvol’lm
835 Old Double Fill. or, Tho Strange Guido
55 The Kiri; oI‘tho oodo: or. Daniel Boone's Last!"
449 Kit Fox. the Border Bo Detective.
625 (Yhissenpln Dan. the 0 Trailer.
677 Chlnenpln Dnn’s Recon Trail.
6’38 Chlnesspin Dan’s Home Stretch.
698 Old Crazy. the Man Without a Hood.
708 Light-Heart Lute’a Lexae .
718 Light—lleurt Lute’s Last rail.
728 Sliw-orhliide. the Shoshone.
729 RIlverlrlsuie, the Half-Blood: or, The Border Beagle-t“
739 Silverblade, the Hostile; 0f,Tilt‘ Border Besglo’lm
748 Silverblade the Friendly; or, The Border Beegie'sfiqw

BY 0. DUNNING CLARK.
1.50 ti P l ,ThBV‘S itthn
soo T12 ill-mg: iii}... reorTYThEl-‘a‘io hindsight-n...
Br LIECT. n. D. PERRY. U. s. N.

176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Buccaneer o! the M
180 The Son Trailer: or. A Vow Well Kept.
19. Captain Kit: or, The Mystery or Montsnh Pol-I.

BY JACK FARRAGUT.

815 Ned. the (‘ahin Boy: ny‘The Wit-fl) 0| "‘0 Fills
800 The Sea Sorceress; or. ’1 ho Boy Skipper.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
8 l Ill 1]..- ° , The Yellow Chief's Von sauce.
:7 ThueeLasid l’l‘;ItCIi or, The League of‘Devll’s island.
87 The Ilel lens! “and; or, Backwoods Retribution
289 The Guild-seeker Guide: or. The Lost Mon...

BY llilACEBRIDGE "EMYNG.

89 Island Jim: or, The Pet of the Family;
F91 The Capt alu oI'IJie (,‘luhx or, The lvai Athloiu.
101 Jack liarkawny In hew ark.

M l SCEI.LAN EOUS AUTHORS.

4 The “'Ild-llorso Hunters. By Capt. Mayne I.“ sat
Frederick Whittaker.
9 Adventures of Baron Mulch-noel.
l2 Gulliver’s Trm'ela. By Dean Swift.
14 , luddln; or, The Wonderful Lamp.
10 Robinson Crusoe. (91 llhistrat ons.)
18 Sindhnd the Butler. His Seven Voyages. .
2. The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Rob uses Crusoe. I, has

L is. ,
88 Th: Ocean slli‘ho’odlionndt or, 1’5; Red Halos o! tho

Csrri‘oees. By . Pierce.
86 The Roy Clown: 01’. The Arena Queen. By I' 8. Film.
824 Ned “'ylde. the Boy Scout. By Texas lock.
61 The Boy “idea: or. The Under round Camp. By A. C.lross.
95 The Rival Rover-o: or, The reobootors of tho Mini-inn
By [doom-Col. llaseltino.
98 llolrin lined. the Uutlswod Earl: or.'l'ho Merry Mon 0' Groon‘
wood. B Prof. Glidersioovo.
106 Old Ru 9, the Hunter; orI The Crow Csntivs. By Capt.)-
Hamilton Holmes.
112 The Mad Hunter; or. '1 he Cave of Death. By Dario-Bus. .
124 Elm". the Texan: or.Tho Young Champion. Dy Goons
Gfilnl’i.
128 The Young Privateer: or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. Dy
Harv Cavonrl h.
143 mull, sans: or, The Adventures at I Mulls- ”. 5y .1.
Alexander Patton.
.27 Dusky Darrell. T : or. The Ginsu Ranger oitloYsL.
lewstono. FBy Edward,“ “I N. Y k by ' a 1““.
201 erzns earnaa: 0 0" R . .
266 gllih’ur. the Guide! "I’D"! kaott’s (hooked Trdi
By Ensign C D. Warren.
.98 Red (7an. the Ono-Eyed Trapper; or.'l'ho Ialdoi tho CII

3v Cuntsin ComoMCI. w
.11 pit-(.691. page, the Lively Lad from lasiviiio. Dy Iris-
tenant Alirod Thane.
"8 The sky Detective: or. A Boy’s “slit in His-Ilene.
By Maiov Mickey Free.
850 Red Ralph. the River Rover: or,'i'ho Brother’s lo-
unge. By Ned Bun tlino.
865 Baltimore “en the Bootblaek Detective. I. h lurk.
874 Gold-Duet Tom: or. Ben’s Douhla latch. G I. Horse.
876 California Joe’s First ’lraii. Dy Co oaol Tho-

H Moustory,
on will}, Homhshcll, the cur Climber. s, r. e. no...
475 The Blaek RM . By John Werner.

Comanche Die Ilia Throo Ilvim D!

Honrv 1. Thomas. -
582 The Cowbo Duke. By Edwin hooks Passi-

and

:3: mo M W. t: Drum“. ..
' 'aters, o V cm . v . .
682 The Dead Detoetive’a Double. By “INC-rites.

721 Maverick Mose. the Arizona Detective: or.de
lirkm. Pun. By will Lisenbee.

809 Don Danton. the Gent from Denver. Bv King Koo-o, oft
U. . . Surrot Service Corps.

914 A... High. the Friseo Detective. Byc- l-M

sao Tr..- Grim 1.odrera In Box Ailey; on 01th-- his
or Number Seven. By Ben D. Hnllidnv.

“31 The Chleago Drummer’s Deal. By LEW

841 i’rlnee Charlie. the (‘nt’s- Paw Sport. [71 M“

fin e V.
R61 nm “rind. the Swamp r... By Chao. r. n.
879 Hing-“xiii. Bill, the Sapphire Sport; or, man”
tive’s Lone linnd. By King Room.
A New Isono Ever! Tleu‘yo
The Half-Dime Library in m on by .n W “in
oosispor copy, or sent by nail on molds! W‘s

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