and Best Libr '|]|I '| ', it ""I I ary! § ': The Cream of Americali"and Foreign | Will I 1"'I..:... .. Copyrighted in 1888 by BEADLE AND ADAM8: \ ‘ x f ‘ > it Iills-ll{li'lilllilflfil1’9"“ r. Bis, .. M. ".1 -‘ .l' January 30. 168. VOL. yn. \_ NS M PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE. 5 CENTS Two Fair Women; on, UNDER THE SURFACE. BY WM. MASON TURNER, M. D., AUTHOR or “BESSIE RAYNOR,” ism, ETC. {CHAPTER I. AN OLD-TIME LINK. IT was a bleak, threatening night in the lat— Fer part of August, 18—~. No moon was visi- ble. in the murky sky, and the paling stars l'fld long since been obscured behind the send- (llng racks of angry cloud-banks racing low through the air. A moaning wind sighed omi- nously and dismally among the scattered trees: looking like specters in the night. Anon NEITHER SAW A ‘ peered closely around him. . l TALL, DARK FIGURE STANDING NOT TWENTY vivid flashes of lightning illumined the inky sky above, leaving the darkness ten times more impenetrable than before, while the hoarse thunder growled under the bending sky. The man who was walking along that al- most obscured path to the rear of the little town of Gloucester, across the Delaware, on this dark and inauspicious night, paused. He leaned against a tree as if he was tired, and At that instant, a blinding glare of lightning glittered through the dark woods; in a moment as the fearful " collapse again occurred, a tree not ten yards ' away was splintered from top to bottom. Quick, fleeting and brief as had been the’E sulphurons glimmer, it was suflicient to reveal : the repulsive lineaments ot the man’s face; and that face, thbugh terrible to look upon,- was youthful. The fellow started back. “By Jove! that’s close cutting!” he ejacu- lated with an oath. “But I’m not afraid. Lightning never strikes twice in the same place. I am safe enough here. I am on lmsi» noes—business that concerns me deeply, or my name is not— Ha! another! \Vell, fire away; I am not afraid of you.” he muttered, as an— other terrible flash glared over the woods, and a thunderbolt crashed above him. But, though the man spoke vauntingly, he was evidently frightened, for he hastily drew from his pocket a small flask and drank greedin from it. I “ Ha! ha !” he laughed. “This gives me‘ strength and nerve! I must not, will not flinch! If all goes well I need not longer fear the wolf Yet, what care I for the wolf? Now, at my door. ; I will not work, for I am lazy and- I: now for real work.” ..-u| u Iniizmiw'll‘hl i llllllfim l 'A l l “Ks; v 1 ill l y \ . #— ,. mm W fl . Ill W “I \ ; FEET A WAY, ENVELOPE!) IN THE HEAVY SHADOWS OF THE PASSAGE. ' . :throat. 2 . \ur'e' towered over him, pistol in hand. \,' -:“‘I ' .l-3»\ i' ‘ , ' ' V, Lu», :s ., It, ..~,.. ' , ‘4 FAIR ’ I. f} ‘ ,ne abruptly ceased his mutterings. and, ‘ ' crouched closer tothe tree, as in a lull of the Wind; hast’y footsteps were heard approach- ' , .y. jug. , " 011‘ came thesteps. Then, at last, adim figure showed indistinctly’ in the wood beyond; :then it was abreast him‘ who 'skulked near the ' "path. Like a tiger the'man bounded upon him who‘ came, and his heavy hand was upon his fierce struggle ensued. The man who “was so suddenly and so unexpectedly assailed, ‘ ‘was brave and strong, and he gradually gained .: ‘ ,“the adv'antagein the contest. But then a knife .r flashed in the lightning’s glare; and again and strain. . “a'llhe struggle was ended. The man, without a groan, fell heavily to the gronnd. In an in- _ ‘ stant greedy hands were rifling his pockets. . ’l‘he‘well-filled vWallet was found. With a cry of triumph the redshandéd murderer shoved it into his bosom, and sprung to his feet. But, « ,1 with a cry of alarm, he started back and . fiendished his gery blade again, as a tall fig- “Hold,'manl” hissed the new-comer. “ I " .' '7- "know you; and I know what you have done. ~ . V ,A’dvance at your peril 1” ,_ "‘ You here! you! Oh! heaven, I am ,un— done l’? moaned the wretch. ‘ “ Throw down your knife, fellow; we’llcome ~to terms. There! SO.’ Now give me half the ' prey. and I’m mum." , ’ V “ Swear'it, then!” . . i“ I swear. ” . “ Agreed; we’ll divide. ” The next morning when the sun rose bright and clear, a bloody corpse was found in the lit- ' .tle cepse' back of Gloucester. v . fl Who did the deed? ' ’ ‘ This tragic occurrence took place .six years / 1 v r I ~ prior to the opening of our story. monuments. _ .m Wm“ m '" .9 < r' ’ I ' ’ "S‘I forgot that Algernon Floyd, *bitiousoethat he iselegaut and Mudguards?- ig ' 'denoterr when I say 1am sure he ' a do much as does Clinton Craig. Bug” ands ‘ again sounded in her ‘tones,"fhe has no. railway!” _. . he!” Mohamed“, ' aft» ’wleverhershouldm" j‘ ' who , jMinerva‘Claytou'was a magnificent her eyes were "as, , ‘ " ‘ehair and exclaimed aloud: ', ; legroom directed“. » I, I A cent when the long them, and, r ‘ permitted an unOfistructed view into the dark depths. , And whenshe had withdrawn frOm the window, which the wind was so ominously I rattling, she had opened her eyea'widel But she was very pretty, very fascinating—every- thing to insnare a man’s heart. ,and to madden . impulsive youth. , , “No!” she muttered, still cemmuning with herSelf—fendeavoring, it seemed, to settle some vexatious point to her satisfaction “What care i for Alice Rayl What care I for her soft baby face, with its mild blue eyes? She‘has no hold upon Clinton Graig’s heart, this poor fool! she loves him. 'Methinks‘. I am fair to look upon—and my eyes are’ black! Clinton can not care for herl Baby in face—almost the same in person—end, I, am proud and stately—so they‘sayl They ' say! Ayl my admirers say so, and, ’pon my soul, my admir- ers I cannot count! Besides,” ’and her lips curled in scorn, “I am far richer than Alice Ray; papa isa bank-president; and that is so respectable. Old Richard Ray is a lumber dealer—a small one, at that, and that is next to nothing. But,” and her voice sunk. to an anxious whisper, “did I not trifle too much 4 with Clinton last evening?” She moved restlesst in her chair, and, for a moment, her broad, marble-like brow was wrinkled into an uneasy frown. But her face was smooth and unruflled again, as she laughed merrily and. continued;_ 1 ‘ “I dare say I did tease him a little. He seemed somewhat vexed, and entirely in earn- est when he declared that if I did not, accom- pany him to the opening bell" of the Academy of Music to-night, he would, take Alice “Ray! What. if he did so?” She glanced hastily at a miniature clock of Black Forest woody suspended ovar the marble mantle. “ ’Tis getting late, and I must stop thisl” she almost hissed, her voice instantly growing harsh, while a hard look passed over her fea‘ tures. “ Obstinate boy! he’ll boas good'as his word. I know him well; and he should have known that I was but joking. jHe, shall not take Alice Ray—there! And;- But what claim have I on Clinton Craig? Heihas‘n‘ever ' ', proposed, but he shall! a, For he loves me, and I know it.” ‘ .' . She looked herivory—like fingers together and sat for a moment as though wrapt in pro- found meditation. And as‘ she mused, a singu- lar, doubting expression spread over her pretty ' face. “Would Illove Clinton Craig Were he not heir—everybody says so, even his adopted fa- ther-«etc what might be termed a colos- Sal fortune?” she at last mutteredlbotween her locked teeth. “ True, enough, I am very rich‘,’ papa has only. me to whom to give his hundred thousand; yet for all that, I couldnot marrow poor man; it would he a‘rdlsgrace. sides his expected money, Clinton , intelligent, so handsome, so elegant, so amt » g . ‘ 1 fthingl that]: can’t help ' vvrorgot somethiugw” ' {Her Voice soul: so were inaudiblal But she sat upright‘fln . 3.‘§'-¢ ' ‘F'mten minutes Minerva Clayton sat, ~slmost motionless~andgazed vacantiy ahead Act her. But, at last, awaiting herself, glanced around her and said, hurriedly: “Time files. I must act. I must write Clinton a line or so; then we will see if he hikes Alice Bay to the‘ball.” ’ » ~ As she spoke .‘she drew a small writing-table near her. ,In a few moments she had dashed 02¢ a hasty note, inclosed it inme five- ’ .v , madly in love, With Minerva Clayton; ' '1 " l ’k 'flutter at the. poor , could. >, ‘5‘ . l I ,1?" I I a], , A . . f ., fear a my * 2 W103? 493’ lensth of am. - , , “i'éofilow Minerva Clayton »"oli?,hor,;1adore—" v loving Wthat her ’ ' :thffirandul’ll have», “ ' - spoke. ‘ few words: I love . fend her.” " ‘ 'n'em Clayton, " her probable, wrath, its suture "retm'roumsre; use. 1 ‘v “ No. 10 Seneca 81".. , “(Present)”. ‘ , Striking a» small hand bell lying near her, the proud girl again leaned back in her chair. This time'the perturbed shade had 'gone from ’ her brow and she smiled sweetly. “ That is polite!" she said, softly. "‘ ’Tis not ' too forward; and—Clinton Craig Shall not I ’ take Alice Ray to the Academy to-nlght‘! He’ll ‘ come! I do not fear the.” ' ' Just then the door opened. “ Here, Annie, take this note, and tell Henry to, carry it at once—to its address. He can read. ‘ . = . .. The domestic tool: the note, bowed and left the room. . ' . Clinton Craig strode up and down his richly carpeted room. He seemed anxious and ex- cited. , . ' ,~ . l ‘ “I tell you what, Fred,” he said, pausing“ ‘ and turning toward his friend who sat there watching him quietly. “I don’t like the posi- tion I am in!” i “ I don’t blame you.” F . ‘ “You don’t? Yes; I suppose not.” , “Don’t you get Vexed, Clint,” said th other, laughing, “ but take my. advice—sand I ' am able to give it; get out of that position— honestly, of course, my good fellow.” , ' , “Easy enough to talk, Fred; but put your-‘ ’ self in my place for a while, and—3’ 3 “Not muchl—thank you!" ,’ I: But just suppose that you do, Fred?” v vise girl? lfiould do exactly what I ad? 11 o. e fa t ' ’ do otherwise.” ‘ 0 18’ Clint, you' cal”, ‘fConfound it, I say emphatically!” or claimed young Crai , impulsively. ‘1 I knOW, Fred, that Minerv was but joking, toying ' with me, when she said she would not go with ~ ‘ me to the ball tonight.” . ' “Granted, and I behave it; for the really loves you—or your expected muses» ‘ aireship—and—” “ Nonsense,.sFred.”, ‘ “Exactly so--all save the nonsense; and’it may he that time-,— However, that‘s neither here nor there. Minerva Clayton, after'pro- _, raising you a month since to go with, you-to this'confounded ball, new suddenly, with a no ream given, declines to go.‘ Halt-vexed, ; you rushofi and ask pretty Alice Ray to go, with you. .She hiscomented. And new you '«want to break; your engagement with her. without any other reason than that you (are , too, because the-hahkér’s (laughter 00 better on yourhrmpandjereate ‘f_ , 2 do‘Wn the room, . iéap‘imd 1, 9, V . e- Clint-stop; you“ Ashe, the'young‘ “ Well, then,” returned the ,' turedly, at the same time» ' ' ’ “Howcan youoflendherl‘lfl 2;? i j i , ‘ “By taking Alice Bay to ff “You should have thoughtiol " Besides, if Minerva Clayto " you, herself, why it is simply J to force you to remain away. " _ , g ’7 , :4 ,“Iwighwe‘werelj’ ’ ' K . “I don't know Perhjspo—ayr 961%!”va madam“ Ashe; H; De WW I inn/3348311039 wee his some-r Clinton“ Craig ‘paidno atten‘ tlon'to'this; Mi ' i . u main a), ‘ " a other, slowly. .9... V ~ ,! " consequences, were filling his mind now. ‘ ‘f The ’fact' is,” continued young Ashe, as if his 0W1] mind was made up, “you have gotten ‘ 5. yourself in to this mess, and you must get your? self out of it. Put on you! best countenance, ' , and make “little Alice Ray happy, by escorting " her to the ball. Beyond a doubt, she loves you, Clinton.» . , “I must do it, I suppose,” muttered the “Yet 1 love not Alice, though I; I esteem henf’ r .“ Is it because she is not so rich as Minerva Clayton, my ’frieud?” . and the doctor looked straight and steadily into the face of his com- ponion. But Clinton Craig did not hesitate; nor did f V his face flush at all as he promptly answered: {I ' hold me cheap. “Note. bit of it, Fred. . You are inclined to I I have money enough—~11 large fortune, certainly in prospectu. But I ' do not 10% Alice Bay, and could (not, wereI to try ever so much.” f: ~' , “Ah: Well, it would not require much ef- '. yfort on my part,” murmured the young physir , '- ciao, softly. - “You—you love Alice Ray!”- exclaimed _ young Craig, in surprise. I “ You amaze me; I’ll assist you. but, ’pon my sen], Fred, I am glad to hear it.‘ Alice will mahe you a good 7 ', Wife. , You go with her to the ball.” :7 dare nut hope tomake her my‘wife. , too good fer me, and-— \ ' ‘cumstances, I’ll not go with her to the ball.” ~ '. .1 1 hair- 4'9 V I did, / ‘ " (Isn’t she a glorious girl?” i’ y a; [With me,” he‘said. » i ; to dew « V T’ .“Go‘rlng, tonal Can you ask? Why, the an- “You jump readin at conclusions, Clint," answered the other, dryly. *‘ I love Alloe Ray "‘Lalready"; but it is for her pure, noble heart; her amiable disposition, her lofty soul. But I She is Why, under the cir~ ,“ You will not? Then you—J? At that moznsnt the bell rung. Wahhand‘ed in. ' ‘ , - I .Clinton tookit. ' As his eyes tell on the su- Perscription, he reddened to the roots of his Then a radiant smile broke.over his handsome face. He hastily tore open the en- velope and read the shoot it contained. , _ .“l , told" you so?! he exclaimed, joyfully. gMinerva+Henven bless herl—is truel Listen, _ red, / n _ _ Then a note ,, v , _ . Cnnn Arno—Ivan but joking last night, to try you. Please take '9 -'Come, and bring! he anemi- yo elf.” ' ' » . I ' ‘Ever thine, ’ ‘ monvs.”_‘ 71’ A moment of silence. It was broken by ,J'ounsCmis- a _ -_ ,_ ‘ “Now, Fred, what do you think of that? x “,l can’t exactly see din glory attaching to my Clayton,” said the actor, sarcasticelly. “’1 «95ng see in her a deep, designing ,ti were spoken seriomdy, and. fl , dances-,mtsuma, ashhot, angry crimsoniug‘da‘ahed over it; but the young man Fred, and You are free * , “Became!” amour, friend, I am free with j ‘ you,” was‘the quiet 137- “And now, Clin- v - me, warm your plans? What are you some is ' "controlled _ ' ""1331qu may lower isvplelni'; lam gding with Minerva.” , ' 3“And Alice, Clinton?” 7 r ,‘f‘Why‘, confound it, I do say: Nowgrrea, ,, ‘that’sa i ,Iami'in.” Md follow, you see thefipredioarneut ’ =: “moment.” ' ‘ ' I 9 “You: dbl, And new, that’s a good fellow, I "‘ L § 1‘? , 301% ni‘i‘lstrolieye me in this matter; you must WEB, avinoté-ufrom me, and be Alice’s escort ‘ 13°“? , If.” Andhe took his friend’s hand coax- in y n his; ' I - ,r . pondered; ’but‘ it was only for a filament. ‘ r ' . r “in: momma yummy friend,” he‘snid‘, serenely, ‘f‘because‘l honor, is at stake. tell , on ingrown, :why'you tuned to D ondewhy, I311 and? ' I! v. little - white-faced Alice ' , ,“We’ll rest. True enough, I. ‘persuade his friend, to remain longer». That night at nine o’clock, the young-heir to the.fortune~as aforesaid—«attired in, the tip or lashion, descended from a [glittering carriage, before the entrance of an aristocratic mansion on Walnut street, opposite Rittenhouse Square. Bounding up the stately steps, he rung the bell. And that evening when Dr. Ashe stood in ' the humble, yet comfortable house cf Alice Bay on Vine street, near Sixth, and told his, message and his errand, a great Welling tear sulfused the girl’s eye for a moment. But she dashed it aside as she murmured: ' r , “, Very good, doctor. I could not expect him to go under such circumstances, But I will go,- with you; and I thank you sincerely for your kindly oifer of protection,” . , CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT PROWLERS. north—west wind blew Quaker city. , , A rough night to, be abroad, and yetthene raw. and wintry over the ning, despite the crusty snow under foot, and. the cutting blasts that moaned and, reared through the almost deserted streets. ’ r , ,It was about nine o’clock; in fact, the sono- rous bell in the lofty, wind-blown cupola, of line dependence Hall had just struck. that hour. _ Stealing along under the dense shade of the, reservoir hill at Fairmount, two men took their way silently yet \swittly on. They hurried; bridge, and turning to the left bent their stops time Lemon Hill. not for a moment, but, despite the‘darkness, pursued their, wayiboldly in the teeth ofythe blustoring windwhxch SWept from behind the wooded'hill before them. ,. It was evidentthat the. ground was as familiarto them by night as by day,» Crossing, theisecond bridge which turned into the summer road leadinggrouud the; base of the hill and skirting the river bythe boat-houses. " dam: in flying, scurrying eddies and gusts; ~ . and the hoarse wind sung wrathfully,dolefully through the trees, oyepthe dark bosompr _; the shudderingariver. _. _ . _ _ ,. And as yet the men had not spoken a word. With their slouched hats drawn over. their around, their necks, they bowed- their headsiu r the face of the driving storm strode hastily on. ., ,At last, the taller o! the two suddenly caused structure reared itself, high} and and ‘ > .v’ '711‘ . .: ,5 *.‘,‘.By level. I, tired,” he muttered... havelunsSfit' leather, but must be steel-fastened to stood up longnnder such work! Comet crouch, up close. I tell Ho shivemdos he spoke. sheltered himself behind the of the bridge. « _ . . , , i‘ You are right, Algy,” he said, iar-ly, half-reSpectfully. “’Tis arrow night; ‘ and with such a Wind as that - £38135? 390‘”. whewl' listen to ltwto say nothing of .11 foot of. ' half-{roach snow under your hard matter to get along.” “ Well,"we’,ll a minute,, and boots, of posh some way or, another, ythntls heartsinl. Gem found my hick: jam in money, I «and so areyon. twoknow one we must work mwimt‘mpoen” . -- chap. , , . while that other fellow is “ ' ‘iA miserable mono an iii-tithes" Clinton- Craig was nappy use, he did ‘ m; Tmsshades of night had just bottled down; ' the blinding snow was still falling, and theoold . be justly mine! Hark you, Jeni; Iamflworks' were those who walked that wild wintry eve- _-y I safely housed, andsitting by a genialfise “ past the mill-houses, then across the little... " through the crunching snow toward: the old- , The night3prQWlere ' pausod « spanned a little estuary of the. Schuylkill, they 1 the heavy, of ,g: L . theme. and brows, their heavy overcoats; pulled high $119,; L as Girardavenue bridge Wan which! stretching away-into obscm‘ltyiin' the gone. , window : through pilot cloth, were its. toot thick!” L’ l 1 1.... .. . on... v 1:1th on wooser _, a m n. on. I must begin to mangefmatteruovnighfi * , window, om Bitth ’ “That nucleic! Algal. You are own’fie’shi, ‘ who stands between inc and daylight», between ' mo and/money, 'ayl‘ between me and illicit-5 selil”'interrupted the other, fiercely; “Yes;- and who‘knows anything of him?” _ . ‘ ’ C H r l: Why, it seemsthat your old uncle does}? i ,, answered his companion, quietly. ,“I'vehwd . - ' it said, that though the fellow may be fatherless , ‘ ._ and motherlesg yet your uncle may be—i-mind , you I say may be—some kin to him]? . . _r , / “ Nonsense, Jam! And yet.— No, heisnof_ r‘ way related to him. This old. uncle of mine is obstinate, though people call benevolent, philanthropic, and all. that sort-of thing.2 tooha fancy to this fellow-ea, fancy, dandy-7r looking chap'now; and I am convinced that intends giving him the bulk of his, property. ,- : Yes, he’ll do that, and~starvomel" 1 , “The old man, will have his way, Algyeif; , ‘ heainTtpreoented." « , ' I 5 The [latter words were spoken in (slow, 315—. 4. k j « nificant tone. r _ 1 , '1, ~ .' “You are right, Jemgstyou are rightl, , Bub-U“ will behave his way?) Will this yellow-haired, .3 pearly-faced upstart cheat me of what should 3 5 ing for money; I’ll win it. {Buticome; wagons rested now; we, must horny. on. , When we are a pitcher of ale between ,usw—alasl, thatlcact” 7 ‘ nfl’ord nothing better-ewhywo' i at leisure. Yet I, torgot something: is expecting us?” _ , r_ ,. ‘ ‘ “Yes; I told her this afternoonto .. , . . no company, but to keep the little 93:10; go: ‘ “What did-she say?” ' , _ , ,f‘ Thatfihwévould do so, -. prog in it, and that she received- fiys, _ for keeping closed doors. old" hag littoral that she expectedu party at her snug f_' ,forfcatflshand cameo-JV .l ; :1 " “Yes; andyou paid her, Jami” ’ .“.Inid-_—kmwinsyou would promptly, , _ with mefi’snswerod thogtellow, with a audible ; l, 4 , ,Thogtall; did not. r ‘ ,xr. r' .7, . a, ’r called J‘e‘m continued: g . ,, r anoizeryelgrssimzm-m!’ o » , , emmsW , . ‘§«mleo.,': cfiflow, let’o {28, 5633; bebeck in time fertile ball. I’ve a ti f " gissnsnMnd,Lwill on: scores was butwshefsllofisxmt ‘- , stones, _,, way along the river. ? v ., * somehow nominee x, o edges! the m r the ,. I the'event or the your," and I . months formalopeningotthoié», ,f ’ j eta: which time 'a lie-remembered ball was,“ given.-. ‘ __ ‘nd‘ “claw” 9’5 that, , vividly recalled hym Winstnight. _ _» , > , - in” “ElwintrrnieWEomoe f on the afternoon preceding it, we havs‘seen, ,j " Gluten ‘mnsinglyont nor ' night on which we have * stalking-theinsteaithy messenger, mg, ' ~ , fit you may; rolli] ' some ‘I- ' "There are: fabulous tales extant—now al- most grown into legends—70f that bln'stering night; tales rivaling those of the mythical Bind-j bad, in richness, gorgeousness and "splendor, of the show, magnificence and glitter at the. , w Academy; tales of diamond necklaces, spun- . glass dresses and royal“ silks, satins and broad- cloth. The author well remembers the event v with its many marvels; he knows that there is . more truth than fiction in the grand tales which ' have been handed dewn. . ,But it is not our purpose to describe the ball at the Academy; our promise is to write out page by page, a very mysterious heart-history, a very'veracious love story, and to unravel it Quietly, link bylink, as we proceed.- ‘ Clinton raig of whom everybody knew so 9» _ ‘much, and——so little, whose name, on account I 2 r of his princely good luck, Was on every'body’s ' lips, whose splendid form and handsome face ‘ were known from the Neck to the Rising Sun, ', from the Delaware to the Schuylkill—was a, 4 ing man in personal appearance. was about the medium stature, not grossly stout, but elegantly proportioned, with fine, erect, spreading shoulders, a deep chest, 8. ' slender waist, and a foot like a soldier of ten ' year's' service. He was a decided blonde, with a fair skint—womanly, indeed—largo blue eyes, w delicate ~‘traCing of eyebrows, a profusion of , ’_ purling chestnut hair, clustering rather disor- deredly over a forehead remarkable for its great , breadth rather than for night—remarkable, too, ‘forits almost marble-like whiteness. His face was full, though of a wonderfully vivacious '1 and intellectual cast. But it was his square r' « ,» jaw, his prominent chin, along with the ner- vous clutching or his muscular bands; which gem the iron nature, at bottom, of the man. " ‘ ‘ e was not. over~twenty-four years old. I ' On this night of nights, as he entered the ‘ ' immense auditorium of the Academy of Music, 4 g'with Minerva Clayton,‘ the bank-president’s . daughter, hanging‘on his arm, and paused for » dominant under the brilliant light of" the chandelier; to gaze around at the scene of almost incredible splendor, he looked grandly ‘ handsome. _. His checks were aglow with excitement, and " his‘flashing‘eyes showed‘the exultation swelling 3 within him, ache felt the weight of the lovely I "who closets him and gave him octet glory byvh'er own splendor and magnifi- . .W l . ', rWe use the term lovely in speaking of‘yMi- ' 5m Clayton is she stead'there and glanced , about her halfvtimidly, half-boldly, simply be I f cause we can use no stronger: a faint idea only ; fifths girl’s wondrous beauty can be conveyed ” by that little word. ‘ 2" which this grand event demanded from one of Ker dress was of the costliest , it melons-«worn only once, pron an r ‘, on similar to this. Her raven hair has , l g 1 ‘ “away-V from her fine brow in heavy ’ masses laden with glittering x jewelfi-ta'lling even-down-to her waist. Bia- mouds, rubies, sa . . emeralds, fairly ' biased forth from every" conceivable portion of her person; In worldly-grandeur she like some‘modern queen of Sheba. . "*“Mdgnificent, Minerva—Miss Clayton— v a ma 4‘ ' Graig, 37°“ 9311‘” ' , ~ She hesitated and cast her eyes down. -. . 1- Ymng Craig» glanced tenderly at her. ‘ l » u What—isobar; can I—Miss Clayton?” he . "nakedsoftly, still bending his ardent gaze upon . r I K , shereturnedinavcicothatwas . l audible 'r‘ / , . ‘ ' . :' Haitian bless you, Minerva! You not I than happy you how” - 1.5: “top: Yea maybe overheardf'hmuy , ' i ', \ l 2 _, 3 was clad in the richness and extravwfi ' possesses sumac: Wealth could aflord, and galacth exclaimed the young man with ,. enthusiasm. ' - i ~, icy-93', grand indeed; and we, asPhiladelphi-r ‘ ,m‘should‘be proud of this event. ‘But, Mr., ( I ~ 1.. , {(Whyfl—yefiiwyau can, if you wish, call me. ' ititérmpted fills girl, gash tall, statelydooking» -‘ g _ '7 ” young man," eiadim‘ elegant attire, suddenly strode by them. . , This individual paused, for a moment and ' turning toward the flashing couple, bowed~1ow. Then as a dusky flush swept over hisface, he reared his form and hurried on into the many throng. / That man was about thirty years of age; and despite the ominous, forbidding frown which rested on his dark, heavily-bearded face, he was a fine looking fellow. As he moved gradefully and familiarly through the swaying crowd, it was easy to see that he was' perfectly at home —that, if anything, he felt himself superior to the situation. But in another moment he had bowed low before a princely woman, and was lost speedin to view, as he bore her away on his arm with the grace of a courtier. “ Algernon Floyd! he here!" exclaimed young Craig unguardedly, while his brow con~ tracted just a little, and a.~ bitter, vindictive fire gleamed for an instant in his eyes. “And why not, Clinton?” asked the banker’s daughter in a low, but distinct voice, at the same time watching, furtively, the young man’s face. ‘ Clinton Craig winced under that remark; for the moment, he had forgotten that that dark-bearded ' young man was own blood nephew to the rich merchant who, for some or other cause, had adopted him- and made him, heir presumptive to a colossal fortune. He had forgottenvthat Algernon Floyd had more legal right to that fortune than he had, and that many wise ones had said as much right out, and endeavored, at least, to make old Thompson Floyd divide equally his property between his nephew and his adopted son. _ But Minerva Clayton still kept her' eyes fas- tened on the young man’s face. She had asked a pointed question and was waiting for an an- swer. “ Yes, truly,” answered Clinton with some» embarrassment of manner. “Algernon Floyd has as much right to come here as any one, .Minerva. Bun—why the truth is, I did not think he was able, pecuniarily, to afford to at. tend the ball. You .know, Minerva, tickets are ten dollars each, and—” “ Exactly-where did he get the money—- eh, Clinton?” ' * “You are right, Minerva; you are good at guessing; but come; we are rested now. V Let us ’30 upon the platform; I see that they are forming for the dance. We must hurry or we’ll be too late. " Now—good heavonsl here comes Fred Ashe with—3’ ~ “Little Alice Ray-on his arm!" interrup Minerva, contemptuously, as she glanced su- perciliously at the advancing couple. “ I don’t like her, Clinton; and I can’t bear that med- dlesome, self-Opinionated, rude doctor 1” Before young Craig could reply to this, and are he could turn- away—as he endeavored to do—-Fred Ashe, “with his lovely charge cans» ing close to him,st before them. , The young physician bowed respectfully, yet curtly to Minerva, scarcely noticing his friend Clinton, and hurried, on. But Alice Ray, with her auburn hair, and soft blueveyes, smiledvgood-naturedly ‘on her old been as she passed, and whispered to him guilelessly and innocently: I “I received your message, Clinton, and-— yes—I was satisfied. It was all right. I hope you’ll enjoy the ball.” . ‘ Then she was gone. Clinton Craig bit viciously at the ends (of his sweeping mustache; but he contrived to mum- ble some incoherent words, and make an awka , ward bow of acknowledgment to the fair girl who had spoken so sweetly, so confidingly to him. But MinerVa Clayton’s brow was clouded with an angry scowl. . ‘~ *“Does that girlw-does Alice Ray call you Clinton?" she asked, inn hoarse whisper, as her eyes glared upon the young man. ' ‘ ,“fiot with mynoonsent, Miaervs,"was the {comps nply; fm‘ he «felt the warm, rounded. arun'cmbteiin an. I “ Fear not!” assessed r 'i to say: “love for Alice Bay has no. place'in my heart. But we must go now.” ' Taking her hand in his. he half-drew her , through the crowd to the largyplatform cover- f ing the entire parquette, and which had been ‘ laid for dancing. ' * - ! Then, at a given signal, the orchestra peeled ‘ forth its entrancing strains, and in an instant : the floors were creaking under the measuredf i tread of twenty sets. And' again and again were those sets formed, and the wild, giddy, dance went on; And every tithe Clinton Graig was Minerva’s partner. At length there came a lull; the weary danc- ers promenaded the platform, flushed and breathless. ' ting gayly with the banker’s daughter, the two were suddenly approached by Algernon Floyd. ‘ His dark face was pleasant with a winning, half—a pealing smile as be bent his head low be— fore inerva; he did not even glance once at her companion. ‘ “ I hope,” he began, in a deep, but sweet and musical voice, “ that I can dare ask Miss Clayton to honor me with her hand in the-next set?" 1 . He gazed fixedly at her as he made his sin—- phasis. . “ Miss Clayton is engaged for the evening,” said Craig, stimy, before the girl could reply. “Nolxno, Olin—Mr. Craig; I am not,” said with you, Mr. Floyd.” As she spoke, she quietly slipped her hand .from young Craig’s arm, and transferred it to that of the dark-faced man who towered before her.’ ' . ' A smile of. undisguised triumph flitted for a moment over Algernon Floyd’s features as he drew that round, rosy arm in his. Turning off, he bowed and said, sarcastically, to Clinton Craig: , ' “ With your permission, sir." In a moment more, with Minerva by his side, and Dr. Ashe with Alice Ray-as oils-arms, Algernon Floyd glided away gracefully in th dance. ‘ No one knew of the battle that had been fought that night in the bosom of thedark— bearded fellow; but, that he, poor—pennfless, almost—and without expectations, had won a victory, none knew better than did Clinton Craig, the potted. . CHAPTER v.» kept up. . ' It ‘was long after twelve o’clock when Dr. Ashe and Alice Ray left the platform over the parquette, and elbowing their way ‘thronghlthe’ crowd toward the stage, finally reached that‘- scenes.” ‘ , , Slides, swings, curtains, sets, ropes, pulleys, ' and all the rough paraphernalia of sconeshift- ing was there. The place wasalabyrinthin itself; and its dusky, dreary solitudes were but there. arm, walked confidently on. nervous. ing to the left, walked on a. little way and seated themselves on a bench that chanced to be there. ‘ I V quiet, secluded precincts. The cold north wind forced its Way into the rear of the building, and 'blew raw and chilly along the passage- ful creek. ' .dera, andfcrouched confldingly' and trustineg clatter-tome: protector. The light from , single jet shone'downl full upon. “9%”,th” I . K. or L N s As young Craig stood under a gaslight chat— ' Minerva, hastily and spitefully. “I will dance, , , i" nammsonxm-, ' Tmthoursworeonandstfllthoballwas, mythical sacred region, known as “ behind the r imperfectly lighted by a stray gas-jot here and , '3- . But Alice, leaning on the young physicisd’85 ‘ , Fred Ashe seemed suddenly serials—mink». ing, and slightly excited; but he was in nowiso, At length they reached a side exit, and turn" ’A single burner illuminated the" way, rattling the cordage, and shaking» the, ., skeleton'arras and tapestry into many anim— , Alice drew her {operacloak about her’shonl— ’ I J l :satt‘here all alone in that dreary portionVOf the large structure. of both. Alice Bay was a lovely girl—petite in form, yet sufliciently rounded and plump, her bared It lit“ up'the face and figure ' arms showing to a certain extent beneath the folds of the cloak ‘which she had drawn over her shoulders. Her rich auburn hair rippled in the reflection of the light like wavelets of gold. The girl’s face was that of an angel, so l E pure, so innocent, so .artless, so heavenly fasci- l hating and lovely. The gentle, [softly curving mouth, the half-pale, half-rosy lips, slightly :‘ parted, showing the glistening, pearly teeth within; the‘large blue “eyes, dove-like and win- ning in their tender glance; the broad, white forehead with the arching brows—all made a I veryzpretty and pleasing picture to look upon, one to be hung up in the halls of memory, there to be loved and cherished. Fred Ashe was not, strictly,~what might be ' termed a handsome man. In size he was nei— ther large nor small; but his figure was perfect ~well-knit, muscular and erect; His face was dark and svrarthyand almost concealed behind '1 ,v . afull curling beard of a dark ' brown color. '\ > .f ,pearance. is A for me,” was the quiet, earnest reply. His hair was ,of the same hue, and was cut close to his head. But if the young doctor was not, handsome, he cerlainly was not homely; for there was a tenderness about his rather sad face, a quiet, sympathi'zing look in his large lack eyes,that wen uan all. this, there was a general independent expres- sion. of feature that gave him afl'very noble ap- “ Are you cold, Miss Ray?” he asked, with ‘ some solicitude, as he saw her tighten her cloak “ 1 around her. “No—not too cold, doctor,” she replied, ‘ cheerfully; “ for I prefer almost anything to _r y the stifled air in yonder crowded ball. am .glad we'can get pure air, even if cold, here, 'doctor.” ‘ - “ Then you are not. overfond of such scenes, _’ such occasions as this?” asked "the physician, ‘ - «quickly. ,“No, indeed—once in a long while will do ' “The . truth is, I care but little for company; that is,” . " certain ones.” mess, so" much giddiness and triviality,‘ that I 'soon‘ tire of it. Ah! yes,” with a weary sigh, , “on such times as this, I am inclined to think all men, and women, too, treacherous and in- , sincere. ” Fred ashe pondered ere he answered; but as the words just spoken fell on his ear, a, bright flush of pleasure, of downright joy, passed over his sober face. ‘ a'l‘his I readin grant, that many men are in- sincere, yet I cannot admit that all are so. Moreover, I have more faith in,’women—-—in * He looked at ber’stralght in the face; his gaze was ardent and significant. V ' - But Alice Ray did not change color under , that steady, look. *' She returngd his gaze ,‘ frankly as she replied: ' “ es, I was wrong, doctor: there'are two men in this world, besides my ‘dear father, " whom I could unhesitatingly trust," andshe still gazed innocently in the young man’s face. “ And those two, Miss Bay?” asked the phy- sician, almost in a whisper, as he leaned toward her; ‘ '- “‘ Cl ton Craig and—” She esitated and bent her head. .‘hYea'Clinton Craig; and the other?” per- sisted the' young ‘man, as he started and frowned slightly. - ’ ~ 3; And Doctor Fred Ashe,” Was the half-hesi- ‘tatmg reply, ’ -. A shade flashed over the young physioa’n’s race, as, fora moment, he bowed his head and pressiou of something bright, as of, a flitting hope, a mad, yeazning ambition, a\. belittl- : r 4 4' ' ' :‘AD'. _, . ‘ “g, was Rayji.’ he asked, slowly. h Along with , , she,th to say, “such company as We’see. here lac-night. .There is so much thoughtless , ,“You. are right, Miss Ray,”"he said, at , length; “and yet you are not altogether right. mused. , But with that shade, there was an ex- . ,‘eo ..,youz Would‘trust my friend, pulsive reply. ‘ ' , l I " Fred Ashe started, andhis brow Wrinkled into an" Ominous frOWn. But'he said: , “ Clinton Craig is well worthy ' your yet—yet—‘—there are times when—3’ “When what, doctor?” asked the fairyfaced maiden, somewhat anxiously. , ' “ Perhaps—nothing, Miss Ray; but-—” “But, again! What is it, doctor? Dotell me!” and she gazed at him unflinchingly,» though there was an anxious expression upon her face. 1 . “Well, Clinton Craig is a trusty, noble- hearted man, one who would scorn to stoop to a low action, and—why Minerva Clayton is a very beautiful and fascinating woman,” was the strange reply. ,. g V, , For a moment a shiver shook AliceRay’s slender form, and a flitting look of pain rested upon her features. But looking up again, she said, calmly: . , . ' " Granted, doctor; but that latter fact does not affect Mr. Craig and his uprightness, his nobleness of nature}? , ' ,, “True; it does not. But I do not like that woman, Miss Raye-I have no for Milne er‘va Clayton.” . _ The young man spoke- ea'rnestly. ‘ ‘ “Nor do I!” was the sudden and somewhat vehement reply. . “Yet,” she continued, as if trust; mittal, v“ I have, after all, no reason for my—-— my dislike; the young lady has never harmed me.” “ Nor me; yet elegant and dazzling as she is, she is a dangerous girl—ay! she is, as I know, deep and designing.” ' , , “Designing? ‘How, and in ‘what way, doc- tor?” asked AliCe, quickly. ButDoctOr Ashe did not answer at once.‘ His face flushed viciously, and he turned his head away. ‘ ‘ - , , . Alice Ray, trembling and excited, continued togaze at him. ’ . ' , i “Perhaps I have spoken too freely, Miss Ray,” said the young man, as his eyes once more sought hers. “I only meant—” you can trust me?” I 'n 4' “I do trust you, Miss Ray, else I had not spoken as I did; I‘only, feared that I. might have wronged the young lady. time and patience just a. minute longer? The he looked at her earnestly; with his large black eyes, “ must not be heardby others.” ' —unsuspe'cting and as trusting as a girl of ten years; but she was a woman and could easily face flushed slightly at first, then beautifully crimson, as her eyes gazed into the dark, plead- ing orbs of the man who sat beside her. maiden read the secret there, and, for a single moment, an expression of joy rushed luminously stant it was gone, and one of pain—almbst of anguish, took its place. pretty head and whispered, in a sweet voice: “Speak on, doctor; I_ am listening; ’ Speak on: perhaps it were as well. I’ll heed what you say, and I will, sagedly, preserve your secret.” What ‘flld she to an? ' Dr. Ashe was a man-of iron nerve, as had his young life, and as fwill be shown further in this eventful history; but he trembled now be» fore that sweet-faced girl, before that mutely bovéed head, with its mass of golden hair. But he bestirred himself. , “ You have known me, Miss Ray,” he began, in a low, but steady, voice, “ for a longtime. I hills for you in search of‘prettyfiOWers. . You were a little misidentified ‘Ahi well do :1 re: K «was my amulet was adept, is: she was ashamed of her hastiuess and self-coinj‘ ,“Too freely, doctor? and with me?” and the' maiden hit her red‘lip venetiously’.‘ “ Certainly. But, _ Miss." ’ Ray,’? and he hesitated, “ can I trespass onyour ‘ place is fitting, the Opportunity good, for what . I have to say, provided yen will listen," and” Alice Ray was a very pure, innocent maiden , read men, when the subject that burdened their'_ minds pertained, to heart-matters. Her’ pale ' Thd over that innocent, baby face.“ 'But in an in- f She simply boWed her: already—and more than once—been proved, in. remember well when I, a boy of fifteen years, ‘ carried you over the brooks, and climbed the i ' 'were joyous, ,hrillianhhopefuhhalcyon daysto J for me, alasl they have never come .. l .upon him. . restrained her as he continued: down her eyes; she seemed to hesitate, me! And, again!” I . ,. l ' ( He paused and bent his headaslf living again in the glad hours of the past. And Alice Ray bent her soft, dove-like eyes, , “I am entirely alone, Miss Ray,” continued the young“ man, in the same soft tone—J‘eu- " ‘. tirely alone in the wide world—noiather to _ advise me, no mother touto love me, no Alone! alone! with only -« . brother, , no sister! one friend-4Clinton Craig! I’A'ud yetgny heart jV ‘ is large,.and yearns for more. One word, Miss ~ - ' Ray,» he continued, after. a, brief muse, u and I you shall havemy secret. I am well to do in: this world’s goods and chattels. I think that i am fairly honest, and,” hesitating, “ Iain satis- fied on two points; I have an aflectionae '. nature, and I lope you, Alice—God alone knows how much.” , I “ , Thegirl started violently and made a~ move-l meat as if she would arise; but, beforegshe I could say or do, anything, Fred Ashe, , _ “Do not be frightened, Alice; be calm. Think for a moment, and in thatmouaeut well! Remember that never before havel told woman whatbut now I have \spoken to you; . for, before high heaven, my heart’has never. . \ a, 6‘ thrilled for,-other than you. Pity mange; . but speak «your own pure soul right out and tell me whether there is hope for me.” While he was giving‘ utterance to these hot, impassionedwords, he had gently taken hex-4 little hand in, cold, clammy and trembling. _ . Hastin the young man looked in her face, “ Forgive me, Alicel”, he . “mesh yearning tone. “on; ” ‘ VI 7‘ an if— him steadily and confidlngly.. .. ., , A n "“ You have'done nothing to“ oflend in least, nay dear friend,” she said, bim- ‘ Rest assured. d0¢¢°£§.'that..17°“l'j ,, words have thrilled me to veryhearhzgf have a high appreciation of the gift which ' ‘ would lay at my feet. ‘ value highly-your : good opinion endiyour Bet. . ‘ tor, I honor you too much to hold you less suspense. Oh! my dear friend me when I speak it; I do uot‘love yo: you deserve, and as you mean; I guanole your wife. another." , , She impulsively cl nervous, chilled hands'in her Own pin _, \ And over those lily ,hands,'with,§. ,f :1; ._ .ing fairy fingers. the young-physician \ his dark face, with its richly And the light of hope, of life gone from that face as the noble down, ,. ' ‘ ‘ V, _ A terrible, shiver passed through the we'll; knit frame, 'a vague uncertain tremor shofi” hen he Was calm and quiet again. Slowly V lifted his head; his almost bleedless fac‘e ually regained its wonted hue; and when Fred Ashe like a sheaf of,wiud~bl_own “Heaven bless you, Alice! hhavenbles‘s‘ for your kind words. . and the ambitious light that glowed in "my" heart has been extinguished, r for-every the fires of love will never again be kindled, for mortal woman. To be your friend. your , ther, Alice, is new all thatl crave.” ’- ' The maiden’s eyes were sufi‘ with * welling, tears, and a stifled sob broke from her lips. She spoke no word. ‘ ’ ' “And now, Alice, trust fail you. I ~half suspect, nay, almostrknow; yet from younown lips I weald learn the truth; f ‘ whols he to whom your young heart has gone out? ,Tell me, and myearnest prayers shall V ‘ 7 for your {happiness Md his.’ ,_ Q . For a moment the trembling maiden 731'szl: afraid 330 Speak v Bus: 35 lash ” member those times-ens happy? I And I often 7 sit‘ and dream lovingly lover instant they‘- nalvel'y,/wh‘ile",the_ pearly tears still. down her peachy cheeks,- she answered; I ,~ : . his; but that nine m, Alice quietly her at“; 1. iii You know my secret—oh! sloped the young": . .- "3‘ , ’- poke it was in his same old genial tones. " r . " ” ‘1' F ‘ The struggle louver, .' 4‘ I I me with your oral; trust me as a brother," and I will never, ,‘._. I, s > \. I . l. k], 'I “a i . iv. .« T ‘ I v W 1,, V: :_ v, r,— ,/F' I. f. ,’ / ‘ ' I ". ,V , V, 7 . , i , i I, . ,‘-‘ ' {a {Will You. ‘dmtory; lovyéflfiay’rly adore Clinton, Craig! 5mg] glintonl" . “Clinton Craig? -Good heavens, Alice!” and the young man reeled back. ‘ I Ulaytonl how can yen-- Hal ’31:! some one comes. Quick, Alice; here—behind the scene. , Quick. We’ll wait until they,pass.”, , x In an instant the two had glided noiselesst , 3 :behind the friendly screen on the opposite side , ot‘the passage. ‘z i . Just then a couple slowly approached, arm- 31; iii-arm. One was an elegantolooking gentle— man, the other a magnificent women. They «f seated themselves upon the bench which had 1 , just'b’een vacated. . ‘ - , ‘ ' .But neither these two,“ nor those just gone, noted atalh‘dark figure standing not twenty lay: along the passage. CHAPTER VI. - p . mom-watermamos. g 3'? ’ Ar this point We must go back a little way in our story, and follow the two mysterious ‘ x'walkers, whom we have seen skulking along over . the snow-covered drives of Fairmount ; ‘ Park. It will be remembered that after briefly under the gloomy arch of the Girard “ I avenue bridge, they again braved the wind and a. '“ storm, and pushed on, around the huge rock, with'its-bold, hard face, standing up like some ‘ ’gravaalled giant of the night. They hurried around the neighboring bend, and entered a ’37. glow,‘ unpretending house, situated almost, on , the Water’sedge. . , , - f ' house-l-now long since gone—Was well meatlomo years ago, to all who passed up and z 4. came the Schuylkill. It was a frequent resort ' tor'hoats’crewsand their fair company. Many a hadftaken place there, and drunken \' ‘ prg’ie‘s‘hadiresched far into the night, swelling -» and riotous over the sleeping waters. very old heuse ,must have its dark tales; : this was no exception to the rule. It too had tits legends and its horrors. Yet; until ten . ' ‘ h‘cloélk in the evening, all was quiet and order- ~ the delicate suppers oi “catfish‘ and ' - comes ,”-’-—one of thetreats of Schuylkill life-- Were‘decorously serVed by the matronly pro- rienéasand her tidy~looking serving-maids. the rosy dawu—that 'the‘ noisy bac- held,‘ and the wild, sometimes ter- . were enacted. , x ' "t'rhgfisnatmeiy *propi'ietress was then a ,, " Wed creature; her features would no longer 3 ~ wear the motherly, insiuu-atirg smile, and the r‘ 4 maiden hardness of her tones told the true, rude, I character or the woman. a _ that magic hour, the company, too, was - " “ad; gallan't’youthswith their red-checked l f _ is no, longer frequented the warm, ' Why-lighted little redeptiongroom. The " ‘fiintb‘ls that such company as this latter was , 38W: admitted atsuch an hour, the house, _ » up, was shut toall. For those who % rowed on to the “Falls,” on returning, V I 7 see as lights flashing from the windows ,. " thb' old house, everything there was silenced " darkness,'and no sound could be heard in "dithlt'dlrectimi save the deep haying ola watch- - doghooming over the waters. ' , ‘ Let there were those who asserted, with a mysterious air, that, on more than one occa- they' had seen a strange glimmer flash 'iorth‘over the rippling river, at a late hour oil 3 {a stormy night. I ,1 heard shouts and rousing songs as it coming ‘ » from some mad revelry, echoing in the dreamy : solitude. ', e a ,1 ‘ There were those, too, who frequented the house after ten. o’clock——bra'wny-armed. rough- .§:,loohlng men—who went there stealthin on 7 Those men came, and departed quietly;,and K they always brought or carried away packs. .' In their» belts were, stuck knives and pistols, ” “and-the (allows seemed watchful and suspi- 7 ., 33, gm: as the grave in the old house. For- : 5313;. it. occupqnh Were. wrapped in slumber, “And, Minerva L; . ,feet away, enveldped in the heavy shadows that" ‘man called Tom. I 5. , (fit was afterten o‘clock—in fact from that More than that; they had. "Itootpand ,some went in rude, heavy boats.,' «dons. ,' Before day, however, all was quiet,, lsave, perhaps,to herself—was a singular per- ? sonage, one, at first view, prepossessing to such a degree that the gay-hearted young barge- men on the river knew her familiarly, almoSt aflectionately, as Mother Moll; but at other times and under other circumstances, and to other of her acquaintances, she was known by another name. In due time the reader will learn that other name—and whether or not it was deserved. To resume; the two men disappeared in the gloom of a narrow passageway. But they paused to shake the snow from their garments and feet. , ' ' “Glad we’re under cover, Algy, my boy i” muttered one of the fellows, kicking his heavy boots against the rude flooring. i “And,I; but what keeps the old woman? She must know that after such a tramp, we must be half—frozen.” " “ Bloody >Moll doesn’t care a button for thatl She’s independent of us, Algy. ~ Butwyes; here she comes atllast, and— No; that is a man’s walk.” V , The two crouched close against the damp wall, as the door at the end of the passage was gently opened and closed, and a tall, heavy‘ figure suddenly loomed up in the uncertain spectral haze flung into the dark place by the glimmering snow. The prowlers scarcely breathed, but clung close to the wall, as the man strode hurriedly and boldly out into the open air. As could be indistinctly seen, he was clothed coarsely. his gigantic person being wrapped in'a common, cheap blanket. A mo- ment later, his firm footiall, crunching in the crusty snow, had died away. “ That was Black Ben, Algy,” whispered the “I knew his figure, his walk. What the deuce is the fellow doing here?" _ ' “ At the old business—ours, Tom, or worse! I don’t like the villain; he would chop my throat or yours for a quarter-dollar. We must keep our eyeston that man; he watches us. Perhaps we’ll come out of the game even and square. But Moll—confound the old witch! is getting impudent; she gives 98 cold comfort!” ‘ , _ “ Ayl Blood Moll knows that ybur man is. out-that uck is ‘- against you, that’s Algy.” _ , “The old hag! But I’ll have money; yes, ,I SWear I’ll have it. However, kick on that door, Tom; maybe that will stir up the old bel- dame.” 7 ' Tom did as directed; he applied his coarse boot vigorously to the stout oaken ’panel-—and . again and again. At last shuflling (est were heard inside. Then the well-barred door Was cautiously opened; but it was almost immedi- ately fastened with a large check chain. “,Who are you, and what’s your busineSsl” asked a rough, masculine voice in a.hoarse grow]. 4‘ ' ' , “ By Jove! that’s cool, Moll!” answered the tall man, shaking the door vexatiously. “ Cer- tainly'you were expecting us. Let us my beauty; we are already halt frost—bit.” “Ah! ’tls you, captain, and your shadow the squinteyei Hal ha! But come iui‘Ihad not forgotten you.” , As she spoke she opened the door, at the same time springing on the light of a small bull’s-eye night lantern. 'The rays fell upon the women’s figure. She was a. large, coarse- looking creature, dressed, in a very slip-shod style. Her head was caplesstnd bare,her thin iron-gray locks flaunting about her head in the ' wind'blasts' that swept rudely in. The light likewise revealed a huge naked knife thrust into a wide belt of soft chamois skin, strapped around her portly waist. tered Tom, after a pause, as he entered the doorway. inch or'so too much with’me.. Then you know there’d be a chanceoi your taking a'. cold, that’s all!” - , . He spoke 'gmflfly, and half ‘meiiacingly.. ~ “"39! hall ha! man; Idid but joke,” laughed ‘:;.’Old'*lflcll-’-v¢her was knewn- to none. j 'thetmwn'y “None of your Compliments, Moll,” mut. “You may some day make'iree an‘ woman», “r But harkee,rny child“, iyand she sunk her voice to a whisper as she put .2 her lips to the fellow’s ear,- “o1d Moll knows secrets! But supposing she » didn’t, why, you a are a wisp of straw under this muscle! only a cabbage-head under this knife’l” , , r ‘ As she growled these words, she bent her herculean right arm, making the flexor muscles pointed grimly to the knife in her girdle. J em started slightly; but he quickly recovered himself. ‘ ' I “ I know you, Mow-you and your power,” he muttered. “But I allow that you know me, too; don’t forget it. However, we’ll not quarrel; let’s be friends, old gir ” . “Agreed,” answered the woman, readily narrow staircase leading up into the house. “Go ahead—go first, captain, and you Jem; you know my rule,” she said, decidedly, asshe paused and pointed the way. i “ Suspicious still, Moll? Certainly you can trust us,” said the captain. ' “Suspicious? Yes, I am. I wouldn’t trust: myself—if I had MONEYl Go on, now; ’tis getting a trifle late.” . I r The men hesitated no longer; they ap- proached the stairs at once. As the captain. 7 put his foot on the lowest step he suddenly” ‘ turned, and, looking the woman straight in’the face, asked, sternly: " . I “ What was Black Ben doing here, Moll?” The woman was somewhat startled at first; but she soon rallied, and answered, defiantly: “On his own business; and that’s‘none of yours, captain.” ' j “Nay, nay; that answer ’11 not do, Moll,” said the other. firmly. “Let me impress 'it upon you that I am not to be trifled with. What business brought Black Ben here! He is no friend to me, and I trust him only when I can see him, and can cover his heart with a pistol. ’ . ' “‘ “ Tell me the truth, Moll." The woman was evidenly nervous as the tall, black-bearded man towered almost threaten- ingly above her. v . i r, L “ r11 speak the truth; but don’t force me, captain!” she .replied,‘ sternly. f‘Black Ben ‘ came here to bring grog. Before 'Heaven, that’s all! You know, there are afew canalers Mouthwash". I , ' N “ Yes; all right, Moll; we’ll believe you . Come, Jam; we must have our little,ztalk,‘andg be quick with it, too. You know I have other business—in town—yet." , ' Without another word the three ascended the stairs. The men paused on the landing abwe, by a room door. \ v "‘Now you can go to bed, andsleepvxell, Moll,” said the captain, significantly. “ Here, is another dollar, and—good'nishb; we will lock up when we go.” ' The woman turned at once, and ascended an- . other staircase leading tothe second story. She , answered not a word. . , - r , The men entered the room, closed the door“ securely and struck alight. The furniture of that apartment, strange to say, was‘elegaut in the extreme;_ velvet sofas, rosewood chairs, bookcases containing choice volumes, 3 rich Turkey carpet that would have done honor to ' the elm? House, and a center-table oil‘ormo» In, on which stood backgammon boards, and chessmeh 0t cunning workmanship, were to be seen there. . No painting or exigrm’ing, how- ever, adorned the plain, bare,Walls; and no ‘ curtains were hung before the narrow window; ' -_—only one, and that looking out over the river. There was one striking peculiarity about‘the room. Outside of the single window was an~ - other; it was made of sheet-iron, and between the outside ordinary and the inside extract-w " dinary window, bars of iron, only an inch ’. apart, descended lier the heavy sill above.- These bars were down now, and both windows closed. . ‘ , g .“ Old M011 is cautious!” muttered the captain, » as he threw aside his heavy overcoat and stretched his sinewy limbs as if glad of the com— ', ,tortaround , r I, , x l I . swell graudly under the loose sleeve, while she ‘ " with a chuckle, as she turned away toward a _ ‘ _\ any.) . .' 1 This man, whohasalready been so long’ be- fOre the reader, was a tall, fine-looking fellow, v with a dark, tannedfacer‘and a thick, curling, glossy beard. His eyes‘ were large and lustrous; ’ yet they condemned him; for from them shone . _ » the restless fires of a treacherous and‘deSperate ., ' mature. , ‘ ,- His companion was a much shorter man, ,5. powerfully built, with broad shoulders and long, muscular arms. His face was a riddle; '3' . f‘ \it was diflicult‘to read the tale it tows-whether the'fellow was courageous or craven, whether he was innocent or crime-stained. That face ' was broad and sensual, yet it was almost on- . v tirely concealed by a rough red beard, growing " profusely, even up to his eyes. , Those eyes f; were crossed, or asquint; and they gave the 1 _ doubtful, puzzling appearance to his counte- nance., “Yes, the old woman is cautious, Algy,” he - ,. , answered, casting his coarse overcoat upon one I, -, of the rich sofas; “and she has reason to be. » ~ Suppose, as we do, Algy,” he continued, in a ‘ I lower voice, “that everybody knew what this , ,old ratnest hides—the piles of gold, and— ” , g ' “’Shi ’shl Jcm; none of that. You must inot speak of what you don‘t know,” inter- ’ ' . rupted the other, looking at his companion with u‘meaning glance. . . ~“ Exactly, Algy; we know nothing of Bloody , , Mollwperhaps! But she, good soul, serves our k .‘ purpose and we must use her." . “Or, be assured,‘-she’:l use us, Jem,”re- ‘6 turned the captain, earnestly. “I sometimes 1 '. distrust her; for woman is woman, the world , ,‘ (Over, and, as woman, is weak.” , “True as preaching, Algy. ,And this old min: holds little secrets of aura?! ' ‘§,Well, well, Jem, we’ll keep our eyes open. 5 j " wbocan tell the ending of all this? Yes, ' ,ol’t. ‘. I .' .' “Neither of us can, Algy; that's certain; ’ though we may live to see it. ” The last words were uttered in a low, ‘deep ' For a moment there was a pause. , _ But sud- denly the captain exclaimed,“ as it he had been dreaming: - V" I forgot something. Here, Jem, go down ‘ .. m'mvotllar and get a pitcher of ale—also some ‘3‘?ka and cheese; I feel tired and faint “ , (Joni-cunt! the old woman! She locks up the , - Wine‘and brandy. And here-leave the score , on file‘tap, Jem.” , I , A: bespoke, he teased the manatew coins. , 58m picked them up, and taking a large silver I ‘ . pitcher from a glittering sideboard in a corner 01 thereom, turned toward the door. As his hand rested on. the knob, he turned his head ‘qnicfiy and cast a hurried, suspicious glance , hick at his companion. " . 4,1811% the captain’s face was calm and imper- mbable. . , J Jean opened the door and went out. He was unwin a darkness that was almost i113 ' e.» But he did not hurry away. ‘ Carefully. may, he moved a small block . working in a groove in the door and peered in. ‘ Still, however, the dark-bearded man who sat Within by the table. movad not limb or mus- cle; he seemed to pondering some weighty , albiact. . ‘ ’ With a satisfied shrug. Jam softly descended ’3 “thestairsinquest of the ale. f -. As seen as he had gone from the door, and ' I, * his heavy footfall echoed on the stairs, the cap» . lain smiled grimly. That man had the eyes of a, hawk, and the ears of a cat. He had noted the suspicious glance of his partner, had marked 3 w that‘his steps had paused outsideof the door; , . hated heard them distinctly, too, when ~they had moved, away. His smile was, indeed, very grim. f-‘J'em is suspiciOusl'? he'mnttered, while his , Wh' teeth‘ glistened. behind his swart mus- ~'."" lac 6. “He distracts me; he knows that I ’ hold him by the throat—that I stand between ,. him and the unveiling of a terrible secret of like past. To ofls’et this, hé has scarcely noth- ’ lie-— Yet, methinks he has enough against All! Jem Walton, wefare friends and al— ‘p 'hoarse, angry Whisper. back toward the city. v -, we must serve one another: yet, how I .long, how long? But at bottom we are, foes, and .we are pitted. against one another. ‘ I’ll be on my guard with this man.” ' He drew “man repeating pistol from a side ' pocket, and raising the hammer to a half-cock, carefully examined the chambers of the wee.- pon. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he thrust the firearm back into its hiding-place, and arising, strode slowly around the room. He paused as he reached a corner of the apartment furthest from the door, and passed his “ear cautiously along the wall. Again he paused—and very suddenly. Reaching his hand above his head, be pressed steadily on a particular portion of the hard, bare wall. As if by magic, 0. section of the plastered surface, representing the space of two square feet, suddenly slid upward, leaving a black, yawning cavity. Up through this dark hole, the hoarse wash of rushing water echoed dis- tinctly. , ' The man, with a slight shudder, drew beek, and pressed again upon the wall. The section immediately glided down, and the-dark secret -—whatever it was—was shut out. Just then steps sounded faintly on the stair- way without, and, a moment later, the door was opened byJem, who had returned with the ale and refreshments. But now the captain was striding meditativer up and down the room. . - ' -~ “Coarse fare, Jem l” he ejaculated, as, laughing low, he glanced at the crackers and cheese. “But we must be content with it-— for a time, at least. '- After all, it gives energy and strength.” - “’Twill do now, Algy,” answered his com- panion. ‘é But it will be better when luck changes. Then you must not forget me.” . “ Never, fear on that score,” replied the cap. tain, half-sternly. “But the luck has not changed yet; don‘t forget that, too. Now to business. Fall to, Jem." . ' The men drew chairs by the table, and hav— ing emptied two large glasses, each, of the foaming beverage without breathing, com- mencedan immediate attack upon the bread and cheese. Then followed a low, hurried, and earnest conversation. At last there came a pause; but it “as of short duration; for the captain looked up and said, while a dark frown overspread his face: ~ . “It shall be sol» «I’ll scrapie at nothing! Minerva Clayton, haughty, heartless flirt as she is, shall be mine. In my own way, I love the girl—love her for her beauteous person, for the glitter and show she‘ll make. She pretends to despise me new. it is because I have no, money. Ahl but she likes my homage and adoration well enough. And money! I'll have it, Jem Walton; 'I swear it. Ah! Clinton Craig, you are treading on dangerous ground when you stand between me and what belongs to me. I’ll hesitate at noth- ing now, and— Hal” '. He stopped very abruptly; and rising slowly, darted like lightning to the door. A moment and he had flung it open; and with the bound of a tiger he sprung upon some one outside. “Aha! Bloody Moll!” he exclaimed, in a “You are fond of eavesdropping. But you know not the man you are trifling with. 03 with you! go to bed at once!” and he stamped his foot, furiously. “ I heard some one in the cellar, and—” “Stopped at this door to find out who it was!” sternly interrupted the man. “,No, no! trifle not with me! Olfl—to your room at once.” . y ‘ He spoke authoritatively. ‘ “Begonel or you’ll catch-a severe cold no. common quick,” growled J em, who had drawn near. Without any reply the old woman. turned ob‘ediently and went upstairs. The conference betwaen the two plotters lasted only a few minutes longer. At _a late hour they noiselesst left the house, havmg ex- tinguiShed the lights, and took their way rapidly As soon' as they had gone, a, dusky form emerged from the gloom of the passageway, l f . ": "to see how to fasten the door. But brief as was ‘ Good-night and good luck 1’? Perhaps she does. , If so, , _' new with a, fierce’desperation he sought to ' and followed on behind them. For: warm. ‘ ' ‘ meat he turned on the light of a dark-lantern that _V moment, itw'as sufficient to reveal the hideous face and form of a negro of herculean . I proportions. ' ’ - I CHAPTER VII. THE ASSAULT BY THE RESERVOIR. THE two plotters~such they evidently were , —-pursued their, way at a brisk pace through the storm. They did not pause to look back until they reached the little bridge leading over ' the reservoir flood-gate by the mill-walk. Here ‘ ‘, they stopped. ’They had not spoken on the. ’ way at all; they needed all the breath that they could husband. But they paused here on the , bridge amid the snow that was still whirling, wildly in the thick night air. ‘ ‘- ,. “ Here we part, Jeni,” said the tall mania ’ a low voice. “ Don’t forget your work; l'llVatr . -_ V tend to mine. We are working together; we ’- C must be free and open to each other.” ” ‘ ’ ' “ I hear, you, Algy,” was the reply. yours to command." . . " t “ Good. Remember the back entrance, and,“ * the place where to seamh. With what you‘ll look for—and must find-in our possession, all will be well. ,As for the rest, count on me; I’ll f. i . not flinch. Should we fail ”~¥hé'sitatinglys- ‘ ” “in the search, why the other means must he .7 tried; and by the heavens above me, I’ll the train to-night, for the fellow is fiery and". :‘ toolbardy.” ' , ’ ‘ “ You can trust me, Algy.” “ Then don’t forget tomorrow evening.- We’ll meet at the Locks and report progress. v ‘ “Good-night, Algy.” ' The man then turned to they left' and hurry. lug away entered Green street at its terminus. His crunching footfall died speedily away. * ‘ r‘ The captainlingered for a moment. , But, . with a shiver, he drew his clmk mere closely around him and descended the steps leading into the walk by the wheels. Before he had, 5; advanced a dozen steps, however, he paused « 3 and peered ahead of him in the , heavy shadows " ' flung by the houses. l ' ‘ ~ . '7 ,A dark object was dimly visible in that . ' certain glo'om; it was hugging close to ,5: wall. The prowler quietly slid his hand tr» V ward his bosom, and taking out his revolver, : f dropped it into his overcoat side-pocket. , an i . strode boldly ononce more, as if, he had seen a nothing. But he kept his eyes well about , It was lucky for him that he did, 'for ly had he reached the middle of the y walk when suddenly, like the fierce onset 01a - ; " tiger, a stalwart man rushed upon him. , . attack was so sudden and so vigorous, that the ’ ‘ young man had not time to use his pistol; He ‘ managed to extricate his hands from his m -, 1 ate and to wave 03 a powerful blow. I * - Then began a fierce struggle, there in the .. wild winter storm. No ope was awake in f . “:3, neighborhood. The inmates of the adjacent L lodge~house were long since wrapt in slumber; l ‘ and the encounter, though desperate, was cart ried ongsileiriltélymthe thick, leaded air convey-L: ing no‘sou . The men wer'e‘left rotten... selves to fight out the bitter conflict. Nothiugil ‘ was heard save the sickening thud of heavy x blows given and returned with fearful , I T ' ness. ‘ v 2:; ” The. captain, though taken somewhat atia' f; disadvantage at the beginning of the enmuute'rg. V steadily gained on his powerful adversary. Though plainly a much lighter man than his *- antagonist, yet he towered his equal in hightj ‘ ' it seemdd, too, that his muscles and sinews r, ' were of steel. Graduallyhe had opened the offensive, and was nowslowly, but surely; ; pressing his brawny foe backward, toward thei’és‘ wire railing girding the deep, black-bummed " basin. There was a hideous energy in i ‘ man’s iron grip, as, inch by inch, he bore 1 antagonist backward. flike fellow saw "" gerlaibe evident meaning of the other, lend; " a “I . ‘~ - 4 .. ~44»... mum...“ thofifififllct hyrbrenking sway "and‘tukiin‘g ’to _ flights—to {ice from the danger Which‘he had. courted by the, attack. ~ “ ‘ To this end he suddenly relaxed his hold, and , v 3, dropping his fullweight, bOWed his head and v 1:: ' endeavored to trip the other. For this maneu- ; [ver-he was rewarded by a fierce ,kick in the _ , face which sent him blinded and stunned, beach ' ' foremost, into the snow. Like a hawk the, ‘7 young man pounced upon his prostrate foe and the railing, ' 3 ' '1‘.‘ Spare mo~spare me, mars cap’enl Spare “me! I was hired'to‘-” _ ‘ A"“,Spare you! you blaCk scoundrell‘ _ Never! Over with you—go!” exclaimed the young _ “man, bending him backward. Then suddenly , seizing him by..the‘ feet, with .one vigorous shove he hurled him headlong over the railing .into’ the dark, treacherous reservoir. ' ' i , The wretched fellow—why his dialect, e'vi— , ’. dently s, negro—gave one wild shriek as he ' ‘, , flashed out of sight in the shadowsbelow. In a a mouse half-thud and half-splash broke the « L” “Stillness. ,The partly congealed, snow~rotten ' "‘ bosom of the baslnrgave way, and with a sul— r { Ion: plunge and a fearful stifling cry, the man beneath the chilling waters. :"1‘Then all was still. ' ,' ' Punting heavily, the victor peered the dnrk'ireservoir. / . . , ' if,“ Miserable sewardl” he muttered between, Ibistiseth. “Gone at last, have you? Andat '\ last wears square. You sought it, you fixed ,‘yo‘ur, own doom. You thought Lhad gold about fine-Aha! ha! Peace to your foul carcass be- ‘5’ neath‘the ice!” ~ . ” ' _ f r, , Turning at once, be rearranged his attire and took“ his, way swiftly- through the bum-cred ' ‘ “trees, ahd paSsediout into the street by the wire ‘5.’ 4 .' "Ina moment more , p omnibus. and was soon ‘jolting back toward . OiICiWs ' . _ y ' ' , ‘i It was now nearly tuielve o’clock: the snow ‘ was still flying, flung hither and thither wildly by the hoarsely-trooping north wind. ' CHAPTER VIII. ‘ ., , MIDNIGIEIT ’SOLILOQUY. : ‘Wn are not yet done with the occurrences of - thineventtul night—so cold, so raw, so never- ' itdéboiorgottenl ,Yes, it was the same‘night ,g‘itiid; and the rude winter wind blowing so maelstrom the northwest sung dolefull aroundl « the splendid mansion of Thompson Mega, Egg” it sighed and moaned, and piped and “dwelling—places, up \ r ,. over into ved area-mi the humbler ithenlley, nearly. " 1 he hour waslhalf-pastweleven; all the lights extinguished in the Splendid Spruce street mansion, save the one which glowed in the , jiiiéhmau’s library. j ' ‘ _ > ,, V In that apartment ,Where.everything_wasool. to contribute to the comfort and pander ththei'taste of a man of culture and of, leisure \ehhthe owner of the'mansionf ‘ I, Thompson Floyd was stall, slender man of _'nbout_,jflfty~five years of ago. His face was ‘ g, thin and paid; his forehead narrow and 4gb. was crowned with, scattering gray locks, awry and disordered. ,The countenance hilt-ho“ man ,.sh0wed anxiety and care—«+9. re- membrance of” bitter things, perhaps; yet it not on austere,-unkind face.» The emotions now playing over his countenance were varied andxconfused. . ’ Directly in front of the gentleman, over the book—case, wasthe portrait of a dark-bearded, ' hiegantslooking man, apparently of about forty years of age. , He was represented as wearing “libs full-uniform of an oliicer of the navy”; But about the handsome, face was on unmistakable ot'a fast life, the market many sins of [omissionandoommimiom . I, M» ‘ Themicture. was elaborately mounted in a “Florentine frame, magnificently carved and the cord was or the, finest messworsund or is” V clutching him ‘by the throat dragged him to, be had found apassing ‘It was’su’s'pended fromrthd wall by a. godmkcnlmrd eta peculiar make, and finish. , no; costliest, description. It was posted in ‘s' in: loss coil new the. trains to thaws and r .‘ 4. -, . \ v . I ,\ L‘v’ , . ‘ a ‘ mm each and depended is“, rich and rare tassel of gold and'silver fringe.“ ‘ «~ _, e The solitary occupant of the room at length lifted, his head, and ,fixed his eyes upon the rich portrait. , I ' “ Ahl Kimcolylfhe muttered, rising slowly and beginning to pace the room with anxious, I meditative's’teps. . “Unlucky'day for me when you passed from earth, poor and penniless, leaving me such a charge! Never since the day when that dark brewed boy, my nephew, entered these doors home I felt the same man that I was before. Even as a ,boy his scowling face, his deep,.meaning eyes haunted me and made me fear. Fear? And what?‘ Trouble, trouble! Would to heaven that the sea bed ingulfed the boy, tool” he suddenly exclaimed, with a nervous energy. , r " A moment of, silence” ensued; but it was . speedily broken by the old gentleman, who resumed: l . “Yes; then I had been free to do as I wished with “my own. But ‘now and ever since the Levant went down and that black-haired boy darkened my doors I have been wretched. Why did fate so ordain it, that just when my cherished plans were perfected, when my dar- ling——when Clinton, my noble adopted son, was beginning to love me,’ to creep closer to the heart of—~ of-Lhis best friend—poor boy l—~his adopted father; ay! why then did this fiendish fate fling inmy way that boy with the soowl- ing brow, this, to the outside world, the real. \heir to my wealth. Curses ou him! Curses on the day when the ship went down! '9. legacy to a son! A rich one, forsooth, whereWith to battle with the World for fortune and success. ’ And that fortune: a Venetian portrait, a cord of silk‘and a jeweled dagger! Bah!” ‘ 1 For a moment he glanced vindictiver at the painted canvas before him. Again he resumed his restless promenade, his head bent, his thin white bends clasped convulsiver behind him, his lips compressed. his eyes almost stony in their stare. At last he once more flung him— self into his chair and sighing heavily mur— mured, abstractedly: ' ‘ “Yes, darling Gertrude! I remember you v yet; time cannot blot out your angel’s face and your sunny curls from my memory. I beer your laughing voice now; I feel your warm breath on my cheek; and, ski righteous heaven, " I heerken even now to that low, plaintive wail, that dying moan, when I, told you the cruel truth; Ohl I know that ‘Iwas wrong, that pride and passion blinded me! I know~— heaven cursemeh-that I murdered my dab ling! Alesl Iv havo fought the whirlwind and the storm which I provoked. And have I been purified in passing this mighty ordeal of heart- breaking woe? Yes; I feel it, I know it. 'I can now look calliin on» her sw’eetlace and can kiss those-mock lipst unlike the! real l—-« quietly.” He drew from his bosom a small oval case of velvet, and opened it. Silently he gazed at, what was contained within—e fair-haired, sky‘- eyed,-girlish taco. j r ‘ An uncontrollable tremor shook the old man‘s frame, as be glued his eyes to the miniature; but there came. forth no cry, no sob, no moan from the anguished heart; The eyes slowly filled, great salt tears rolled down the wan cheeks, and a. sigh as of a blessed relief broke from his bosom. Gently, yearningly,'he pressed his lips . to the voiceless “shadow,” than he closed the cues and hid it in his pocket. “Ahl my'lost Gertrude!” he, murmured, “I have yet a link to bind .me to you. Oh! how precious that link-’ And yet, my untarnished name and famewntarnished I” he continued, with a gasp. not; locales!” and he wrung his withered hands. “ I sometimes feel as though I would end all my sorrow at once; andyet, must I resort to it, as the great consoler and quieter? Whata strange feeling came over me the other'day, as I, stood on. the lotty rook beyond Fairrnount, and gazed ‘ into the dark, 'wshing flood of the Schuylkill: Was it fancylthst made me see ‘llélldath the " surgingi;*torrenth yisiou shunts". of 3 rest ,ever- _ 2’ Then such “ 0h heavenl I cannot! I dare I ' ‘ ' dusting? he, ,no;'snch thoughts are cowardly; l J N I’ll banish them.” I ing'u‘p and down the room. ‘ ‘ 1’ “For several moments he strode without speak- I j , . “Algernon ‘Floyd '53, a deep, ,bmc-fiéurted ' ‘ man I”. he suddenly‘muttered, his mind revert- ing to/a former topic of thought. “ His black; glittering eyes have a wicked look. He knows of my weamh‘, that I have no relative iua legal ‘ aspect, save himself; he knows, too, my love , could not neglect mywadopted and; nor» j Lforget‘ that'Algernon Flo d, was? mybro for my adopted son; he knows that I am . mas- ter of my own, that when I die, my property, will by my express declarations go in bulk, to « my—dear Clinton, and but a small portion to himself. I do not like his manners of late; I distrust him! He ,muSt leave this house. cannot absolutely turn him oflf, for peorIIiim- coly’s sake. I must remember him in my will. And I—-- Ha! What was that?” '3 fl Hepaused abruptly as a Quick, sharp sound ’ , ti 7i .I I echoed without the back 'windovv. Heisat up~ right and faced the window, but the not again. I . ' “ I am nervous,” muttered the old man, after a moment‘s pause. “ ’Twas only the old pea‘ch‘ tree see-sawing in the wind. No, I do not tr «st noise come my nephew Algernon,” he resumed, as hisbruw r contracted. out late at nights without ostensible reasons, and he casts greedy glances at my side. ,He knows that I keep my will there: he knows. too, that if I die without a will, rm WILL BE A MILLIONAIBE, AND CLINTON Pnsnrmss! But,” thwart the ambitious rascal, if he thinks any . “ He keeps suSpicious-‘companyi,’ is ' and his voice sunk to an excited whisper,,‘“’I’l1' ‘ snob thing.‘ I’ll secure that. document > where else.” He arose at once and ktrodo toward {815811 \ iron safe in a corner of/ the room; at the time he thrust his hand in a concealed“ ‘ Within his vest. .ebf me’ , ~, He paused suddenly and searched this pocket, then, hurriedly, every, other about his garments. . . ' “The key is missing!” he muttered with a“ look ofyperpl‘exity and uneasiness. “ only am night-I placed it in its hiding-place.” Collin I have lost it this morning at thefiflxchrlhge! No; I am not so careless as that. I'placed that. ’key in my pocket, there to remain until I my I, moved it. However, I am‘ ‘ rot-sine» ‘ é} gencies. I must put the extra spring on the ' lock; for twenty thousand dollars, and thefm‘ll, - are contained in that strong} box. But I have . another key." V , , He cautiously locked the door of the spirit ment, and? lowered the light to the minutest point. 'For a moment theL room was in dork— \ noes. When the light streamed on egaim-old 3 Thompson Floyd was standing beneath the chandelier with a peculiar. shaped hand. ' l . . A moment and newer toy that safe. I he un- locked, the ponderous‘ door and slowlyr'sho'wed"; 7. He drew out a long, narrow drawer" _ 7" it open. and from it took a small, copper-fastened box. I This box was~secured with two locks""Bya dexterous touch the old gentleman ndelasped the locks, and threw backlthe lid. He, took 0?“ long, neatly folded paper, bearing,“ in; . dorsemeut in a clear, bold handwriting] Bio replaced the box in the drdwor, the drawer in the safe, and closed the heavy door. Form entire minute he turned the key in the lock, ‘ each time eliciting from the resonant metals peculiar clink. At last, with a satisfiedrair, he withdrew the-key. Again be low the light for a moment. When it glared onus more , in the room, the old man was by the table. , But the key had disappeared. ‘5. Slowly Mn: Floyd spread out is“ “ tunes. Then holding it Up to the ligh fhe road sheet. it through, word by word. . , ~* It_,was a brief document, and though old Thompson Floyd read slowly. it me); mm bug, ,. a moment to finish. He spread the paper out before him. - ' ‘. " “ It is right, ” he ejaculated, “ as rig-lites conscience would allow me twelrnw it; . 3 I ' weld J , shorts; Heaven grantthat have? dona_.,j rice ( . seating himself, r,“ " ‘ glancing" at the'eloeh. “gelatel hal£~past twelve! Well, I am not sleepy, the. house is empty. Clinton and Algernon are both away at theballl’ Oh! the flash and lolly? there! But the time offers; I’ll write my confession, for him, and place it with the will. When, I am [dead he, can read both; but not until then. Illl strengthen my hence a little, then to work.” _ , He arose and approached a small steel- banded locker» From it he took a ‘vial and a little, cut-glass decanter. From the vial be poured two teaspoonfuls of the liquid it con- if tained into a wine-glass, which latter he half- ' " filled With the contents of the decanter- The vial was labeled Tinct. Valor; the de— canter held, as could be told by the peculiar aroma, Cognac brandy. ' I At one swallow the old man emptied the wine-glass, and after a few turns, up and down the room, reseated himself by the table and be- . gen at once to write. 4‘ And there he sat. An hour passed and still old Thompson Floyd guided the creaking goose- , uill over the sheets. i r . .x , At last, with‘a. weary yawn, he flung down Hi’he pen and pushed the MS“ aside. Tears ; stood in the old man’s eyes as, slowly he took ( “ up the sheets and read them one by one. ‘ ~When he had finished, be, folded .them com- , piacently together into a Small,» square pack- ; ‘ age, and secured it by turns of a strong cord. ‘ Next he folded the long narrow docuun-ntw the will~and made it to correspond in size and shape with the package of sheets. He paused, but almost instantly he took a pen and on theparcel of folded sheets he wrote a few words.’ From a drawer in the table he drew “outseveral small squares of thin rubber and ' parchment. Placing the will and the sheets together, making a package two inches in size, he began to» imold them in alternate wrappings pf the rubber and vellum. securing every third layer with a turn of twine. , Thus he continued until he had placed nine «snrcessive wrappers around the parcel. Com- pressing this between his hands, be bound it tightly with coil after coil of the strong cord. . Then he had finished his singular work, for l“ a ‘ he slipped thetwine and laid the package aside. ' The old-man Was almost exhausted as he bent his aged head over the table to rest him- self. Its-as now almost one o’clock; but Mr. ,Floydcontiuued to rest his head on the table. not - ,W; but he Was suddenly awakenedby a 1 noise ,at‘ the fwindow. He quickly raised his ‘ head. “like lightning he sprung, to his feet. ‘1 ' ., "window, was the form of a heavy man. Wind And snow were blowing blindly into the room, and the gasljet was flaring wildly—at timesta- ‘ vending everything, at times ohswrlng all ob~ 9 ‘ ‘l‘Thelge wasno time to lose; the man was al- , W WWW the room. It was plain that he g once gained the window-sill, but had slip» pgd‘a-owing perhaps to the snow under his feet. It Was- thus that the which awakened the _ [sleeper had been, made. . g , ’The man’s face Was covered by a closely- , fitfing.bhck mask; but the hands were bare, showing that the fellow was a White , man. With his right hand he had grasped the ring in . the shutter, whilewith his left he was clinging to the sill. A naked knife was 9188de between teeth. ' ,. Old Mr. Floyd grasped the iron poker by the grate, and at a bound sprung to the window. In a» u. uncut ,the heavy iron had descended upon thohand grasping the ring. ' p . «:Flesh and blood could not stand that blow. _ With a bowl of pai11-thc_knife dropping from "his mouth and falling inside the x‘ooni—a—his bruised hand loosed its grasp: the left slowly Trelaxoditsfclutch, and, with a fearful impreca» teen; the‘man dashed backward into the dark- ness below. _ \ x , The old gentleman picked up the knife. He he saws. name well"hnoWn in the local annals rudelyye'nt‘ upon the handle; ,_ : . 5,, \Y to seal: Height!” assume is... _ He,” 3 asleep. fiow long he lay thushe did ' _ .‘ I-lalf—way in the room, through'the opened I glancedat it, and with a shudder, as ‘ es Lin’al‘ L y 8y; V a ’ " startle him in the least. tre’mulons touch“ ' ismattc‘n‘ shallbe Walled to, and at an early day. But‘now to bed—~40 to dream over the sad, yet happy past! Alasl—s” ' ' c-u—u—un'n CHAPTER IX.” Losr AND won. BREATHLESSLY Fred‘ Ashe and Alice Ray stood behind the shaking canvas away back in the rear of the huge Academy. v It will be remembered by the reader, that it was there we left the two, on the approach of new—comeis who readily took the vacated seats. They did not secrete themselves for the pur— pose of listening, but only to let the prom- enaders pass. , eady a few words had been spoken by those who sat on the bench. . With a half-shudder and a vague tremor per— vading her fragile form, Alice Ray turned to fly from the spot; but all was darkness around her. She could not have t‘akena step in any directionwithout attracting attention. In such an event a search Would be sure to result awk- wardly. v ' , , Dr. Ashe leaned over and whispered in her ear to restrain herself; then he took her little hand in his own strong grasp, to encourage and reassure her. Thus they were forced to listen, asthey stood shivering in the cold wind‘ that rattled the scenes above them. "Nay, nay 1” said the lady, in a clear, sil- very voice, as she nestled close to her escort on the bench; “ you jump the readily at cenclu- sions, Clinton. You are well aware that~—” “That you will have your own way in all things, Minerva, and solo this. But it mat- ters notr I suppose‘you are right.” . V “I am right, Clinton. Ered Ashe, is no friend of mine. He does not like me; and he shows it plainly, yes, ruddy, whenever he gets i an opportunity.” , , . “ Rudely, Minerva!” and the young luau knit his brow. “ Give me a single instance, and Pi] soc Dr. Ashe, and request him to explain.” He spoke very seriously. . “No, it does, not matter. I care nothing for the impertinent,‘ sneering, fellow. You must have no trouble With him On my account.” , There was aslight pause. . j‘ I’ll be frank with you, Minerva,” said Clin- ton,»at last. “Fred is a good fellow, anda dear good‘ friend of mine—~perhaps a slightly over—Malone one, but well meaning, neverthe. less: and—~well, in a Word, he [thinks you are very worldly, too fashionable, and—’f ' “The ypresun ptuons pupl” broke in the girl, with a hiss. “When and where did he get an opportunity to judge me?—and falsely at that! I hate him!"‘ ’ r K , ' “I am candid with you, Minerva, because I know that Fred judges you harshly. He eVen dissuaded me from escorting you to we ball, and thought it‘ ungenteel in me to break "my engagement with Alice Ray 1” “He did? _ Well, well; I’ll be even with Fred Ashe, M. D., some day.‘ But, Clinton, how wouldlittle Alice Ray hare shone on your / arm to-night?"" I , f‘Not like the elegant, peerless Minerva Clayton l” was the ardent, impulsive reply. 'The banker’sdaughter bowed her head as a half- blush swept over her voluptuous fuse. She trembled slightly, toommayhap with the an- ticipation of :i-spcedy and aglorious triumph. She suddenly looked up. , ' “I am assured of one thing, Cl'iuton,”'she said; “and perhaps your mind may be set at ease by my confiding it to you.” , ‘She paused, and looked at him earnestly. , “Speak on. Minerva; tell me.” - ' “Fred Ashe 1mg Alice Bay, the lumber- man’s daughter. He adores her; .and she loves him!" f w ‘ ’” . ‘ I “What! I—«J‘ , 7 ‘ 7 ~ ' ' “ism hark: What is that? whispbreden- nerve,” just months rattling scenesshcwk violently. r “ , ' " r r ‘ , He‘d r with some confusion. _ has accumulated to one who is in unwise related " gather, tinned crrnestlyr ~~ I Eloyd isno madness/claimch a man to inshore a woman‘s heart; ands—~52 But then; ternary filing!” and she checked herself, ‘ s'monerl', \ j, , 4 A- w Young Craig heard-the noise; enraged not if “ It was a sudden-gust of wind; Minerva. Can’t you feel 't?" I ' g ' ‘ " r “Ah! yes; it was the wind. . It is very chilly here.” ‘ V " , She drew closer and more coufldingly toward the youngman. ' , . “ f‘ Then come, we’ll go, Minerva. :r'You- ma‘y___n J - y' ,“No; keep still, Clinton,” she interrupted ' ' restraining him. fortable when in your company I” The words were pointed and bold. , . The young. man colored; but the thrill that" shot through his frame was deliciousvin treme. , a . “I am glad to know it, Minerva,” he sdid, ' “Also that Alice Ray“ loves my friend, Dr. Ashe. truth,” andhe hesitated, “ we must manage to I marry this little Ray girl to your enemy, the doctor, and I Will then breathe freer.” ‘ ' ‘ “You? how?" ‘ , » r~ “ Because; Minerva—well, I have more than . once thought that Alice Bay has. some regard ' __ ’ for me.” ' ; r, I ' Clinton Craig blushed like a woman. _ , _ “ You rate yourself well, Clinton,” said _Mi-’ nerve, rather coldly, she knew that the yonng manspoke the truth; and she was jealous of “little” A306 Ray—wt everyione, who/came. i between her ambitious self and the man whom, j she was working to win. ‘ 1 , _ But was her love for that man genuine sea self~sacrificing? Minerva asked hereelfjtiris‘p question as she sat there. ' ‘ ' ; Again there was a pause. " ,' 7_ “ lion, yourself, Minerva, once hinted the ’ ' same to me,” said the young man, somewhat ? resentfully. “Yes; but I was simply talking for i Enough, however, of Alice Ray; my word for é E it, she hates you; and I’llstake my life that she iseven now engaged to Fred Ashe.” , , , Again there was 8. Violent Shaking of the; ‘ -canvas; but the young folks’paid no'heed 'f it: was nothing but I it now; they knew wind. ' I *- “ I hope what you say is true, Minerva,” re. ' 0 Q marked Clinton, emphatically. « . , ‘ , M 3 ‘ To this the girl made no reply, but set daring fora moment. Suddenly she glanced ’ -r toward her escort and said, slyly: ‘ » a “ “Mr. Algernon Floyd~your cousin'b'y ‘ tion, Clinton—docked wondrouslyhandeomeand : ' dignified try-night ”, ' \, Young Graig started as though struck in " " knife. He colored despite himself, :,.; viciously at the ends his sweeping > _ Minerva noticed his perturbation; she toenjoyit. ‘ ,. ' ’ “ I could not refuse him, when I, so humbly, so graciously to dance with hint”; she continued, “ I fancy we did not mire, a; "bad looking couple, though truth be told, l'likej ; contrasts: his hair is black, so is mine. -* fist yours, Clinton, is auburn.” ‘ ' I ~ ’ i The words were spoken in an insinuating, , apparently artless tone, while the girl‘s dark“ eyes blazed into the young man’s face. - ‘3' r , ; Clinton Craig started. But ascewlpaseedr “ over his face.» His mind Was occupied with, :- other thoughts; it was filled with the longest his dark-brewed cousin. , w . , " I like not this fellow, Algernon Flode as i; said, grufiiy. ’ ‘ ' v c 5 “ls it because he is less forward/than year-'1. self, Chump!" asked the girh‘quietly. “kit .. because his uncle, his own fiesh‘e‘nd 9' fit most naturally to cut him: of! fireman? c inheritance, and give the vast fort/{me which'he to Mull—4o, :yo‘u, Clinton,» the creature of meW ' 's 7‘1. Clinton winced; he set his teeth " bntbemre he could‘reply, the girl I. t 1‘ n. y... we... as “he: “ I am never cold or uncomw thfl ex~ To tell you th‘el » .. v - ~ .‘ '1‘2, .. " r, .o, . ,. . V i N. ,0. " .y “Y ,. I. ' ' She laughed'llghtly-and scornlfully.‘ ' Despite her laugh, however, she, had spoken, seriously, half-bitterly and enviously. Her . . , words had found a lodgment in Clinton Craig’s ' ‘ ,‘ bosom. His brew contracted, for a moment a I «contemptuous sneer curled his lip and a glitter shone in his eyes. r, “Still Minerva laughed lightly, though she glknew full well that she had gone too far, and , had, under the impulse of the moment, over- ':shot the mark. ’ But the girl looked surpass- , . :ingly lovely as she stole her hand confldingly r. ” .dnto that of the handsome fellow who sat be— " aside her. And that individual was not proof ' -.against such blandishment. At heart he loVed a athe splendid woman, madly. His face slowly ,, unwrinkled, the foreboding frown .fled away, ‘ and»; glad smile swept, over it. He clasped‘ the small warm hand, and murmured softly: o“ Money or not, Minerva, there is only one such maiden as you in the wide world i” She attempted to withdraw her hand, but he held it fast. ' 1‘ " -. “No:- can I think, Minerva,” he continued r earnestly, “that you value a man simply by n ’ the size of his purse, and the credit of his ' l . check. 1 am not to be blamed that my H adopted father has‘seen fit, as all say, to make 7 _, me heir to his fortune. Yet this is not abso- Jutely knewn as a fact. 'I do not begrudge I Algernon Floyd anything, and if! I thought I oculd thus secure your favor, I would gladly have him receive the entire inheritance. But, Minervm?’ and his voice had a stern tone of ~ ’ warning, “Algernon Floyd is a bad man, an a a an. ions, wicked—hearted renew. I have heard dark tales of him. Besides, my dear Mi- ', fnerva,” and he claSped her hand more tightly, a If, ‘fhe does not love you-l,ove you as I do. Oh! 'forgite me, darling one! I could not restrain . I. 301:3", I i ll ' Minerva Clayton did not move, nor did she .. show the least sign of displeasure. She allowed ..her warm, throbbing hand to remain impris-, “1 cued. Then quietly she slid her magnificent ' -_ head-to his shoulder, and let it nestle there» A f" 'f‘ And do you love me, Clinton, dear Clin- J. ton?” she asked in a low, sweet voice, while she ‘. / »- gazed tenderly at him. ' ‘ ~ ' “As life itself!” was the hot, impulsive re- 5'2, ply. f ,“l’. worship you, darling! Speak,,Mi- ' «nerve, speak just one word. Can you not, in 3i x some degree, at. least, return my love? Speak, , darling one i” I, . . f . He stole his arm around her yielding waist. ; v 1 .“Do you love Alice Bay—love her in the I f Clinton?” asked the maiden, softly, never / ’ removing her glowing eyes from his face. "‘f‘Not in the leastl Before God and man I ' » yr 1: that not a pulse of my heart thrills ‘ f g: for Alice Ray!” _ . ‘r ;, if’l‘hen, Clinton, I am yours, yours alone, I yours forever!” was the burning exclamation, a the whole passionate nature of the woman T' firming forth, as she lifted her ripe Virgin lips » “this. , , - ‘And Clinton Craig bowed his head of chest- : fibptourle over that transcendently fascinating ‘ kissed theta warm, red lips. ,: ‘. .flpt in love’s embrace, the two heeded not , _‘.the-'violent rattling ‘of the canvas near them; ' ' theyicared'notnow for wind or calm. They -_ fairly adrift on the golden sun-lit sea of . ' ‘,‘1p‘ve,‘ and they thought of naught save the ' balmy breezes that treated them over its sur- . _ At length, gently disengaging himself from v " h‘er embrace, the young manarose, and cover- '_ lug her half-bated shoulders with her downy M " operashawl, hesaid: » of ~ “Enough! Come. Minerva; 1am happynow. Come, the Academy is being deserted. ’Tis _; two,o’clock, and we must wand our way home- , ward." " ' , motion arose languidly, and slipping; her v bible they walked away toward the noise »' ‘and bustle of the ball. , ’ é “ As MinervaClayton glided along by the side _9 I“ . , sow: V . her handsomeemoruuhe murmured softly, a controlled himself; and ‘ Then their“ footsteps ceased to‘ echo in the long passageway, and the brilliant couple had gone. . ‘ Quietly, slowly from behind the friendly scene-shift stepped Fred Ashe. Leaning on his arm, her head bowed, her limbs trembling, her gentle bosom heaving tu-' multuously, walked Alice Ray. “ Bear up, Alice!” whispered the young man, encouragingly. “I am your friend, your bro- ther. He who has so basely, so cheaply flung his affections away is not worthy of you. For- get him, Alice!” But poor Alice answered not his brave words of cheer; she simply murmured distractedly to herself: , “Lost! lost!” They hurried away. Like some grim phantom that haunts the night, suddenly, quietly, a tall figure emerged from the heavy shadows hanging over the ob- scure passage and paused in the light of the solitary burner. ' The straight pencil of light revealed the dark, saturnine features of Algernon Floyd. The fe110w’s face was half-wrinkled under an omi- nous scowl, and half-illumined by a flash of victory. ' “Ha! ha!” he laughed, grimly. illof me; she," glittering Jezebel! spoke well of me! Shall I compass both? Can I! Ye gods!” he continued, with an oath, “to the brave, ‘there’s no such word as fail!’ Come! be still, my ambitious heart! for now the time of work has come i” » ‘ His mutterings died away as he turned and disappeared down the passage. All was now hustle and confusion; the ball was on the wane; the hour was half-past two in the morning, and many eyes, so bright and flashing a few "brief hours before, were now dull and lusterlcs's. The great event was near its close. Shawls, furs, mufls, rubbers, etc, etc., were again in requisition; and carriages, stretching out almost an interminable length on Locust street, were departing moment by moment laden with their precious living freight. Clinton Craig was in the chat-room hunting out the articles demanded by his check. Fred Ashe was there too, already buttoned up and gloved, prepared for the wintry weather with- out. The physician’s face was sad and serious. But Clinton was all life and fire; his face was radiant with a well-won triumph. \At that moment, Algernon Floyd, lofty and gloomy, entered. ' . The room was crowded with bustling, hurry- ing beaux, old and young, and each one was in- tent on his own business. The dark-brewed Floyd walked by young Craig, and, watching his opportunity, “delibero' ater whisked his cane across the young man’s cheek. “ _ In an instant Craig’s face was crimson; then it grew as‘pall‘id as a moonlit grave-stone as he looked up and saw Algernon Floyd. " “ Please be careful, sir,” he said, sternly, as the other paused. - 4 “Careful?” sneered Floyd. “I was weful enough, my fancy fledgling, to strike you in the face-just as I intended to do.” Dr. Ashe heardallthis. Removed promptly forward. ' “ Dirty hound that you are!" exclaimed Olm- ton, striding toward his insulter. Before_ the doctor _could interfe the two strong men had exchanged blows. ’ T ere is no telling how the disgraceful aflair would have terminatedhad not the bystanders separated the combatants. “Shame on you, Algernon Floyd, to have provoked this disturbance!” ex'claimed young Fred Ashe, with flushed cheeks. Floyd’s dusky face glowed with passion as he mtorted: . ' I ;“ Wait on this is ended, sir, and I promise to accouomodate you. As for you, Clinton swig-Jon shall not escape thus easily! I swear , VWith a mocking defiantly from the room. i 4 I ( “ He spoke ‘ bow, strdde proudly and, [Chutzcher tremblmg with passion; hat of his friend, he left the ' w apartment. . , , Ten minutes later, apparently undisturbed, happy and exultant again, he was jolting away, in a carriage with Minerva Clayton. And that— peerless maiden,her'hand in softly to herself: . “ Won! won 1” ' ‘ But poor stricken Alice Ray, seated beside Dr. Ashe in the carriage that was conveying them homeward, only bowed, her tearful face” and muttered: , “Lost! lost!” CHAPTER ,X. . ' 'rnn oouNOIL. Tan day after the great event at the Acad: ‘ my was one that is remembered almost as viv- idly as the ball itself; for on the morning of that day, it is said, that more fashionable young ladies and gentlemen slumbered later than on any previous occasion in the memory of man; that there were more headaches than ever be- fore, and that never before were so many blase, entirely usedup people seen; And all on oc- count of the ball, and the vigorous manner marking its enjoyment. , It is not handed down how late Clinton Craig slept that meming; but the faithful chronicler of the times records that Minerva Clayton, the bank~president’s daughter, did not make her appearance until the following morning. With Fred Ashe, however, it was diflerent. He was promptly in his office by half-past seven in the morning; and, strange to say, the first call he received was from old Albert Ray, the lumber-merchant, who gravely informed him that Alice was ill. , Dr. Ashe looked anxious and worried. Late on the night before, as he had said good-night to Alice, at her door, he had noticed that her hand was hot, dry and tremulous. The truth is, be somewhat expected the call this morning. But he answered cheerfully: , f‘ Very good, Mr. Ray; I’ll seen be there. I dare say it is nothing7over-fatigue and,” hesi— tatingly, “some little mental dispuietude, per- haps. » But I’ll call, certainly, by nine o’clock.” When the old gentleman had gone,*the phyt sician strode uneasily up and down his office. There was.a singular commingling ofemotion ' ’ on his fine, manly face. An expression of anx- .. iety—almost of fear—was blended with a frown, a real scowl.‘ But his mind was soon diverted—patients dropping in one by one; for , Fred Ashe was both skillful and popular. Young though he was, he was already almost worshiped as a “rising sun.” ‘ i V As those who needed his aid came in, the young man’s brow gradually clearedy the frown passed away, and the wanted words of cheer and encouragement fell from his lips. ' ‘ , Dr. Ashe was glad that his mind was, tempo. rarin at least, turned into other channels. But at last his omce was emptied. Glancing at the ‘ clock he snatched his overcoat and hat and turned to the door. o’clock; and he had promised to be at Mr. , Ray’s, ‘at Sixth and Vine, by ninel His hand was on ,the bolt, when the bell rung with a startling clamor. looked out. “From Mr. Craig, sir,” he said, handing a sealed envelope to the physician. ‘ 9 Fred Ashe tore'open the letter, and hastily“ ‘ read it through. r When he had finished it, a frown came over hi face; and that frown '; V: grew darker as he spread out another sheet ’ T contained in the envelope, and perused it like~ ‘ wise. But folding the two hastily together, he cast them in a desk, and said tothe messenger: u very ' all right’l ~ The man bowed and left. while Dr. Ashe hurried at. break-neck speed from his ofioe, which was near the corner of Thirteenth and ‘ Arch streets. The truth is-—-and this mayaccount for his . haste—despite her refusal of his proposal, and her confession of love for Clinton Craig, .‘ still very dear, very. close to f Bay was Ashe. V ' his, murmured ' It was half-past nine ' ‘ 'He opened the door and - o good, Henry; tell Mr. Craig that 'tis ' \ ‘2‘; ' ' I'We will ,laylthe'notes. which the physician " 1., _.‘,. lfi W. ' _.,~ ,. , ,had received before the reader, despite the ” :, duct that the young man had looked them in a w desk. The first read thus: ‘ " “DEAR Farm—I am writing this in bed. I am ' rather used-u this morning, and have no idea of turning out til the afternoon. I shall certainl take a. good nap after sending you this. Well, Fre am afraid I am in trouble. That black ylllum(v111ain he is!) is in earnest about that often of last night, I which, ’pon my soul, I had forgotten. He has some u ulterior motive in pushing the affair further. I sus- ‘ treacherous, that I’ll not write it. I‘ll tell poet what it is: but it is so dark, so dastardly and on of it when you come. I would get out of the a. air, just Where it stands—considering in honor untarmshed —Were I allowed-to; but the to ow will not thus be satisfl thou hhe was then ressor. Iam situated Peculiar an unpleasantl ; would not offend my adopted ather; yet I am 0th to balk this fellow, eSpecially as he makes a. half-appeal to my man. 00d; ayl and the cur threatens me in caseI refuse. I °589 . _. fl at the ‘door of the library in his rich mansion. He rapped lightly. Resettlement he waited' then a voice within bade him He turned the bolt and walked boldly, almost defiantly, into the room. ‘ ‘ Old Thompson Floyd was seated at the 9 ‘ ’ be was evidently nervous and disturbed; ' at the same time a firm expression r‘ ‘ 7": over-his face. He started somewhat and ‘ his nephew suspiciously as he entered. “ l at *1 8181106, be measured the distance hem “ ’ ’ ‘ ‘ his hand and the bell-cord on the well. set: he flashed a look toward a halféopen drawer ‘4" which lay a loaded pistol. = The young man stood quietly awaitingtho " ’ ‘ old gentleman’s pleasur, e. “Good-morning, Algernon; Mr. Floyd. “ Thank you, uncle,” was the coldreply, no , the speaker negligently flung himself‘jfitoh '; chair at the furtherside or * the room; ‘ : air, in obedience to your“: I i ' ' ‘ t the present asgood cameos thine ea shot. Ann ,J I am If. 13133,) A l the old rendezvous... Gbod-nlgllli‘ M 4‘, .. - ( W. bié’od. as he does—” men for starving your own brother’s son I" ;. rman looked at him keenly. ‘ ,theu‘ho answered: y'-’ the ! sis . ’ wished, and as soon as you’can. Iain busy this forenoon.” , - Algernon Floyd spoke very calmly. ' _ “ “ Ah!" ejaculated the uncle, with 'a half- grunt. “I promise not to keep you long; but I am glad that you say you have business. You ' should not have been idle so long.” _ These words were uttered harshly. ‘ The young man ,felt them and their tone, for ‘though his face neither paled nor, flushed, yet a menacing frown, wrinkled his brow‘ as he re- ed: x ' “ That is no fault of mine, sir. I have on deavored, as you know, to. obtain employment ,-—something that is not dishonorable or—” “ Dishonorable! Nonsense, Algernon! No employment, no labor is dishonorable, provided it be honest. There are plenty of places for you in this great city, provided you will search for them. I must say Ido not like the lazy, shiftless life that' you are leading. Were I in I your plaice, I would carry a bed rather than be ’ dependent on any man for bread~—evea on an ‘ uncle!” A hot, angry flush leaped to the young man’s I, * face as he replied: “You are unnecessarily harsh, sir. Nature has made melyour nephew. It strikes me that Clinton Craig, who is in nowise related to you, might take the same‘advice with profit. If I mistake not,rthat young gentleman has no em- ployment.” - ' . These words were spoken with a haughty de- V ‘ fiance which stung old Mr. Floyd to the quick. 9‘ Clinton Craig!” he exclaimed, angrily. ’ “ He has no need of work.” r _ “ Nor I; that is, were I gifted with an uncle who cared half as much for his own, flesh and “Enough, Algernon; enough! I may have been hasty. If so, forgive me. But you know not the debt I owe to Clinton Craig. Hold! 1&0 npt interrupt me and I’ll explain. His , ‘ mother, poorwoman, became seriously involved on my account; and then she lost, yesl—sacri- " . Vflced her all.” “ Ah! indeed,” sneered Algernon. that does not appear to me to be suflicient rea- V . “ Starving you! nogsense, nephew. Have I made enoughprovxsion for you in my will? I 'When I began life, I had not one-tenth the amount that I' have bequeathed to you.” “All right, uncle; but you have made this unknown fellow, Clinton Graig, a millionaire; while I'know—because you have told me~that you haye left‘me the paltry sum of two thou- sand dollars! Yet,“ 'I am your blood nephew!” “1 tell you, Algernon, you must keep that subject closed. My property is my own; and. it! my life is nearly tormented cut of me by these who fancy that I have wronged you. “'I have simply disposed of my property gaslsawfit.” , ‘ ' ~ - He stamped his foot impatiently. . Algernon Floyd did not reply; he simply T mugged his shoulders and gazed at the ceiling. “Why did not your father leave you some' A, than the barren legacies now in my 1-. leaping!” broke inrthe old man, honly, seeing , a the otherewas So indiflerent; “those lega- ’ ‘ that flashy portrait hanging there, a dirk- v. “knife and 'an old silk cord! bah! . Why did, he leave such trash as this and nothing more for ., gone j “To save my soul, I cannot say, sir,” was the easy, importinent answer. “I dare say me poo father gave me all that he possessed; ; 1: T {be cool do no more. Perhaps, after all,” and there was a deep significance in his tones, . ; “those legacies, apparently so barren, may, in "z the end produce fruit—bring me an inheri- ,-tlmcel” _ p 7 He uttered these words qu1etly;but as he ‘ them his eyes glittered upon his uncle. “What'mean you, Algernon?” and the old The young man pondered for, a moment; ' “Why, .1 would dispose of those relics, with -§. . ’ ’l“ "». ‘ ' "‘ ,7; ' ~ 315:1 “Yet I on’of—‘theportrait; that Lysine. too ; v highlytopartwith n. I maintains arti- ' cles,‘ with the eXception‘mentioned, to some curiosityemonger" I would tell him‘their‘ won~ _ .6 might pay me for them, ‘ derful history. ‘ that which would prove of themselves a for: tune; yes, and that before I fell heir to my ,lordly inheritance of two thousand dollars!” The young man spoke scornfully. “ I wish you good luck in your speculation, Algernon,” said the uncle, dryly. “But I hope you are not here simply for the sake of bandying words. I wished to see you with another purpose.” “ And that purpose, sir?” “ To suggest to you to change your quarters,” was the reply. The young man started violently; he hit his lip to keep back the hasty reply upon his tongue. He said not a word, but fixed his eyes inquirineg upon the old man’s face as if ex- ‘ pecting more. “ You heard me, Algernon,” said Mr. Floyd, in a kinder tone; he knew that he had been un- usually stern. “ I hear you, sir, and would listen further,” was the quiet reply. “Well, the fact is, Algernon, you stay out too late at nights; you bring strange company intO' my house, at very unseasonuble hours, and—Lwhy, I do not fancy such a state of affairs.” The young man smiled scornfully as he an- awered: "‘ All of which can likewise be urged against Clinton Craig, uncle. But, sir, I listen still.” The old gentleman frowned. “Keep Clinton Craig out of ‘the question,” he said, with some asperity. “I know his friends; but then he is—why he is my adopted son.” . “ And I am your nephew; that’s just the difference between me and that supercilious young gentleman with the auburn curls! Bah l” ‘ x “ No more of this, Algernon! I’ll'not be in- sulted by you in my own house. Listen to me, nephew,” and as he spoke he drew a portfolio toward him, “I have thought it right to tell you that I think it best for you to seek lodgings elsewhere. The fact is,” and his voice was unmistakably stern, “I wish you to leave my house as soon as you can. We do not get along well together,-Algernon, though it isno fault of my own that——-" ‘ "'Is it not, uncle? Are you sure?” inter- rupted the other, with a cold smile; ,which showed his glittering teeth, sharp and wolf- like. “I say it was no fault cf mine, Algernon; but I’ll not argueuthe point. Hero; I have drawn you a check payable to bearer for two hundred and fifty dollars. Come to me once a quarter and I will give you a similar amount. "You can, if so disposed,‘call and see me occa-v ‘sionally. Take the check, use the money ju- diciously, t'ry.to get into some employment; be saving and thrifty, and—"v ' “’--0ne day I’ll, be a rich man, eh, imcle? But very good, sir; I thank you from, my heart, uncle.” , ' ' ‘ He bent his head, and picked up the check which the old man had cast! somevvhat impa- tiently on the table. Then he‘ moved toward the door. But he pausod and looking back said, deeply: ‘!I suppose I may be allowed some day to return and take away my precious legacies? For the sake of my'father, they are. dear to me.” ’ . “ Certainly, Algernon," answered the old gentleman, hastily, in a softened tone. ' “ And, my boy, I will not hurry you; you can stay here the remainder of this week and move at ! your leisure." “I shall never again sleep under this roof with you, uncle,” was the quiet, firm reply“ “And, in your ear, sir; I ask no favors of you; my wants force me now to accept this paltry check; " but‘henceforth and forever I would de- " spine“ myself were I to accept anything at your hands. God willing, and man, ‘we have spoken 'togetherfor ale last one. But—’1 ‘ f‘WhahrAlgemonl, Doniwa , my father’s nature; I forget not injuries from whatsoever source received, and ”-—in a whis- per—“let Clinton Craig, the mddzer, to himself, sir! ” 1 ~‘ Old Mr. Floyd sprung to his feet and en- deavored to stop the impetuous fellow; but « But, a, 106k for trouble; I a; gifted with f Algernon slammed the door in his face and left" the house. The old man stood like one bereft of his l senses, gazing blankly at the closed door.\ ‘1 Slowly tottering back he sunk into his chair. “What does he mean?” he gasped. , he mad? Does he threaten me? But,” with a sigh of relief, “ at all events, it is over now, and I breathe more freely. Ah! I feel faint 1” He arose and approached the locker to which a previous reference has been made. Having; N Is‘ ’ drank from the vessels contained therein, he strode several times up and down the room. “ That blessed potion! that elixir of life i” he» muttered, rubbing his hands together. “How it gives the nerve‘ and strength. ‘ Yes, I am re- joiced that Algernon has gone. But I must not forget the occurrences of last night; I will no- tify the police this afternoon of) the dastardly attempt on my life. Yes, yes,” dreamily, ;“I am glad that Algernon has gone!” .When the discarded nephew reached the street his swartby face was lividwith passion. “Cast off! insulted! spurned!” he hissed, witha bitter oath. “ Ali‘s well; but, old man, you only fix me in my purpose! You but hasten the terrible end! Now I' must look for Jem. Farewell, proud mansion~furewell for a season ; we-may becouie acquainted again in the lowering future, and—we’ll see.” . He shook his clenched hand defiantly at the stately residence and turned up the street. He continued his rapid way out toward the SChuyl- kill, without looking back once, and without heeding at all the bleak wind that was ‘ sweep« ing in from the west. Turning into Twenty- first street“ he soon reached Market street, “ crossed the long covered bridge, and took his way up the left bank of the river "toward the canal locks. That day about two o’clock a furniture wa— ' gen drove up to the Floyd mansion and took away Algernon’s effects. No one asked where ~ the young man had found lodgings, for no one cared to know. ' The, day wore away, and still old Thompson Floyd moved not from his library. Paper after - paper he had, that day, examined, and re- arranged. . When old Barton, the ancient body- servant, came to summon him to dinner, Mr. Floyd put, him rudelypolr. , Still the v old merchant delved into his safe, and fished out document after document. It Was nearly five o’clock when he closed the nderous iron cover of the safe, and leaned back in his chair. ‘ ‘ “Thank Heaven!” he murmured. “.1 have i looked over them all again; they are all there. Will I live another five years (to, do the work '- again? But now my dear boy can, must—- Be! come in!” he suddenly exclaimed, as a rap fell / on the panel. The door opened and old Barton entered with a note. “A man‘ brought this, sir,” he ejaculated, , “ He said they were wait— * somewhat hastily. ing for you, and were in a hurry, sir.” “They! waiting] But the letter.” a Mr. Floyd took the missive, opened it and . read it through. His brow wrinkled into an uneasy, vexed frown. “Always trouble! and nothing can be done, without me!” he muttered. “And I don’t \ think the water such a cold night as this-4 :But , I must go, or Miller will do nothing.” V “ Certainly, sir, I hope you’re not going put _ tonight, in such bitter weather asthisl” said . old Barton, solicitously. “ I must, Barton; business calls me out. To ‘ the mills of course, and-a But I’ll not be back until to-morrow, Barton. I’ll not, expose my- 3 self by returning lac-night. My rubbers and overcoat, Barton; then tell the man to wait.” '7' 1’ *Ten minutes later, old Thompson Floyd, :3 thin, debilitated ‘old man .that'he'was, ’_ , s ..,, may; ., - ,r r ' . ,e‘ an, .,‘n~ \. door andan the street. He cast his.eyes toward the red sky, and the sun ,fast sinking , in'th‘e West, wrapped his'overcoat shiverineg "3:. around him, and, followed .by a rottifihdooking. _ man who was waiting for him, str e briskly up the street, taking his way toward the ' Schuylkill- . ' He had been gone only a few minutes when the bell at the mansion sounded. Old Barton opened the door. A short, humpbacked, coarse-looking fellow, his face almost invisible under a wide wool hat, stood there. ' . “ Mr. Floyd left his memorandum-book on ' ’ the table,” he said, flashing a quick, covort , glance at the old domestic. “ I know the room, and I’ll run up and fetch the book,” and .he pushed by. ' -- Old Barton stared, but said: I “All right; up at the head of tbe’stairs, and 5‘ I .- -—why, l'dare say you can find your way out." Rubbing his chilled hands, the old servant retreated to the warm kitchen to the rear. ‘ ,The, man amended the stairs. When he we , once within the hbrary, he glanced hastily “ I about him, and gently closed the door, thus shutting out any prying eyes. Then he placed his canto the keyhole and listened patiently for a moment. All was quiet. " 'Springing lightly upon a chair, the fellow took down the portrait of Lieutenant Kimody Floyd,- quiokly detached the long silken cord, . placed it in his bosom, and with a common stout twine swung the portrait back into its old place on the wall. _ He sprung to the floor, opened the door, and, assuming his old gait and deportment, ‘shufiled down—stairs, and left the house, closing the trout door with a noisy bang. ' ' ' “I‘ve‘got it!” he muttered. if it has lost its'charml” With a low, malicious chuckle, he strode rapidly away in the gathering gloom. .. “Now We’ll see CHAPTER XII. nominee AND REALITY. ' , Oaths night tollowing' the ballClinton Craig stood on the brownstone steps of old Charles 1, Clayton’s fine, mansion on Walnut street, op, *' ~ ,' posits Rittenbouse Sguare.- ' , The'whud wassweeping by, rude and bruete , ling; but the ydung gentleman had not long to if . wait. The door was soon opened. I “18 Miss Clayton'ihi” he asked of the serv- ant—girl, who had answered his suinmons. « « “ Yes, sir,” was' the reply, hesitatingly given. » "‘ But she is indisposed, and desires to’see no ;, one.” ' - ' I “ This is a disappointment, indeed,” muttered the young man, the chagrin he felt showing " upon 'his‘face. “ Is the young lady sick?” -- “Not sick, exactly, sir, but quite fatigued. lShe did not reach home from the Academy ball until three-o‘clock this morning.” ‘.‘ Ah! yes,” muttered Clinton. "v ‘ The young man was still reluctant to go. f ‘- He had had a pretty good rest, and, besides, he was burningwith anxiety to see his inamo— r “‘I do not like to intrude,” he said, apoloo‘ ; getically; “ but will you kindly take my card v-‘Wto Miss Clayton, and say to her that I crave “ LOnly a few moments other time?” ' , .- The domestic bowed respectfully, and taking the card entered the house. She left the visitor v rimthe vestibule. She had been €006.901y a ‘ mement when she returned. ‘ “ Walk in, sir,” she said. ‘,‘ Miss Clayton » 'hidsrme say; that she will be delighted to see .3011.” p , "'A 'joy0us, almost heavenly thrill flashed I, ,fi’TWgh Clinton Craig’s bosom as he quickly 7 "”§ntéred the warm hall, and then walked into . ‘f the dimly-litelegant parlor. l‘,".,Gloriousl glorious!” he murmured, as he sfitrode up and down the luxurious apartment, » _ firvery exhilaration of feelirg. “ Why and 13138 destined to so much happiness! To possess showcase bask in the sunshine of termites. ileilove'otsuch a noble, resplendent being, to ,, to dare call her] mine, is bliss-LrnaYi the very intoxication of blissl, But,” and’hepaused as his brew Slightly wrinkled, “would Minerva love me if I were not heir to a large fortune? What strange words she used at the Academy last night, when speaking of Algernon Floyd. And how coolly she’danced with that fellow! ’Sh! nonsense; I am not jealous—at least of such as Algernon Floyd. And yet, I had for- gotten?” ' ., As he spoke a. dark shade passed over his face. “Yes, confound itl” he resumed, in an. un~ easy'tone, “Iforgot entirely the fellow’s im- pudent demand upon me! Can I satisfy him? Can I meet this man? Shall I expose my life to his bullet, now when happiness is within my very grasp? Can I refuse him the satisfaction which he has asked of me, as a gentleman? Ye gods!” and he gripped his hands fiercely. 1‘ I___ha__.” ‘ Do what he ~ could the young man could not drive away the ominous froWn from hisbrow as Minerva Clayton, all, luxuriousness, all loveli- ness, all frankness and confidence, swept into the parlor. I ‘ But in the half-gloom reigning there the queenly girl noticed not the perturbed look resting on her lover’s face. “Delighted to see you, Clinton l” she ex- claimed, cordially, holding out her warm, plump hand. “I have been thinking of you, darling, all the afternoon.” Clinton Craig trembled with a delicious ex— citement. He led her softly to a sofa, and seating himself near her clasped her hand in his and murmured, in a low, ardent voice: “ And, did you wish to see me? did you long ‘ for me to come, dearest one?” “Can you ask such a question, Clinton?” she replied, running her jeweled fingers lightly through the young man’sclustering looks. A conversation ensued which only loverscan hypothecate and appreciate. v .. As all of our readers may not confess to the “soft impeachmenh’v’ ,as many, perhaps, have gone through this “ ioohshness ” (l), we will omit the honeyed words that passed between the two young folks. x - , Minutes and hours sped by. At last, the young man looked up. His eyes were glitter- ing with excitement, his face was flushed, and his heart throbbed with an exultantdoy that he did not care to conceal. ~ “And when shall the happy day ba‘darfingl” he murmured. “Speak, Minerva; I await your answer.” ' . ' The: girl turned her head away asia blush mantled her fair check; but in. an instant she bent'her gaze frankly on the young man's face and said: V s - “ Whenever you may decide, Clinton. 'I are yours even now, and ready to obey you.” ' “Heaven bless you, Minerval. I’ll never profane your love. Now what say you to ens week from to night?” - r ' Again Minerva turned. her head away; but as before it was only for a moment. " Shefaced him again; but she did.th lift her head as she replied: ’ . . “ ’Tis seen, very soon, Clinton; and pupal, You know he must be consulted; I’m satisfied that he will not object. Say two weeks from to—night, and my hand shall be yours, as-m'y heart already is.” ’ “ It shall be as you Wish, darling; anduvd" Just then the bel-lrung, clamorously. “ Who can it be?” murmured Minerva. “ ’Tis very.,lcite,” and she glanced at the clock. Then a rap sounded on the parlor-door, and a servant entered the room with a letter in her ’ hand. . “A man brought this for you, Mr. Craig,” she said. “, He wishes you to attend to its con~ tents at once.” - ~ With some misgiving, Clinton took the let- ter, and, ,excusing himself to Minerva, drew near the hall‘ gaslight which Was : burning brightly. Tearing open the envelope he hur- riedly read the letter. through. 1 Before he had . perused a dozen words his brow contracted and ' his cheek 'reddenedi- When he finished he, 2‘“ * trooping winds, and trove .end of the line was attached aheavy crushed the sheet rudely into his re-entered the parlor. , “I must go, Minerva,” he said, hurriedly. “Yet, it is certainly time that I should,” he continued, with an attempt at a smile as he ‘ glanced toward the handsome clock. is, I am wanted at home.” , . “Who wants you, Clinton?” asked the girl, eying him keenly, for she had noted his every movement since‘the reception of the letter; and .“ Truth she had marked with some foreboding his evi- ' \ dently perturbed manner. . “Why,” hesitatingly, “Dr. Ashe, darling. He wishes to see me on some business of im— ' portance, he says.” “I don’t like Dr. Ashe!” said bluntly. . the girl, “You do not know him well enough, Mi», 7 . nerva; he is a fine fellow, though somewhat? ‘ ' ’ whimsical. I dare say his business is to sit up: " with me until two o’clock in the morning and smoke my ci are,” _ ' “If that is all, Clinton, send him word that, you are engaged, and that you will see him-toe marrow,” suggested the young lady. ~ ‘ Young Craig colored. “No, Minerva,”he answered, “I must Fred meansfbusz'ncss, or he would not have sent for me at this :hour. I must say good« night, darling.” _ ‘ He leaned over her and pressed anwann, ‘ passionate kiss upon the willing lips that were . held up to his. . ’ : “Was ever man so accursed?" helium; , , ~25- 3 to himself a few moments afterward, 'as he _‘ was hurrying along the cold, wind-blown street. ' Ashe. He crossed Broad street, and, Spruce, hastened on. Fifteen minutes after» -, l ward he entered his adopted father’sresiden'ee, ' ,- just as the bell on Independence Hall peeled out the hour of midnight. " ~ ,. CHAPTER XIII. Aswan on THE mvna. Anoo'r tour o’clock in the afternoon ohmic ~, same day the figure of a. tall man imddenly ,7 - emerged from the shadows! avenue. , . A bridge and stood for a moment in the , He glancedzhastily around him and peered-op, ‘ No one was in sight; 9. rumbling wintry-wag- on joltingalong the trmurmdhwjmm'fl. over the river. The windwas v»blewing'~1.m. -~ raw andbitter this cold December m‘ 0 for pleasure-seekers to be dam, .V inviting and enticing the when: , “ warm south” was sweeping «mam it babbling brooks. ' sight. Hastily descending tows-flower) tion, he approached the edge of theatrea‘m. .’ drew a comet cord from his pocket. ran» weight. Glancing about him for the last " " he swung the weighted cord over his head ‘ - place; for it suits! Klimt" cast it out into the dark current. 7 I “ Notdeep enough I” he muttered, in a tone, as he drew in the line. and shall be the agaimvf .. l Whirling the lead once more arOund . he let fly. ' ’ The line spun far out, and the weight fen " ‘ " with a peculiar gluclc into the water. , _ Still he shook his head as for the third time he cast the *' line, and marke’d the depth of the water on the soggy cord. At last he succeeded in throwing the lead nearly to the first pier, the line running rapidly through his hands no. " ' til the bottom was reached. Re had found ‘ deep water. . ' ‘ , l . ‘ ' , [.1 ‘ ISA "1 But he did not go toward theofioe of De». Ur I“ i /guardedly, at the embankment and the W 1- V A y -. was far diflerent now when grim winter f . his court, sent, forth his blindim i'i' vthe‘running q The man cautiously.ch by the bridge. Then he paused and v if “once again around him. Still no one Vesta. - r“ r: ‘ ;, ,_ . ‘V.r . .V i" > pocket and ‘ 3. ,. ,J ‘ir'r ., l ‘ i ‘ f. Avgrimis‘inile of satisfaction spreadowr-flyg, the distance from the shore. 'fsoml "epics, and _ ‘ ' man’s as, noting the spot witbhie eye, . z. 3 x' "“s -.t I ' {3. m, , ‘ f bye. particular line with the bridge above, be ~ _. slowly coiled in the cord.- ’ I _ _ ' . “ I’ve found the, place!” he ejaculated, hau — ‘ ing in theslack. “It will do. But, by Jove! so soon!” he muttered, in ananxious tene, as, draw.- ing the string through his fingers, half-formed ice fell at his feet. “The river is freezing! It will be frozen hard before day. Will that be ‘ good or bad for me? g V' must meet him. The sun will soon be down, " .. ' and—yes; it will be almost dark by five 7 . o’clock, Glorious!” he continued, in an excited voice, as, turning away from the river, he hur- riedon toward the old house—Bloody Moll’s— , Which we have before mentioned. “ I’ve stern v . work on «hand tonight; ayl and so has—my * 1, ffieiidl” , ' w In ten minutes, having crept successfully ' ' ,. arOund the jutting clifl—no mean feat—he r ' cautiously‘drew near the house. The door was " ' chat, and, With one exception, the windows . ,were closed. But the fellow rapped boldly. , l No response. Again he knocked. Again, no ,‘r response. , The man cast an anxious gaze to« Ward the fast setting sun. , ,A coarse face,'one evidently disguised with ,daubs'o'f paint and false beard, was that upon which the slanting sunbeams felL It'was a . face, however, keenly alive to passing events, ,. I ‘ as the roving black eyes, flashing around, indi- With a muttered curse, he kicked the door .",heavily. ‘In answer to this‘ imperative sum- 3 1 ‘mens the bolt suddenly turned, and Mother Moll out. ’ . »;“A.hl” in a low, satisfied tone. ’ " “fieitia you, my dear—” » fi’S‘hl ’shl Moll; no names! I am on busi- I‘ mess; snag-Why, of course, you don’t know me, never laid eyes on me befOre, eh?” I l (“0! course, my friend; you and your busi- easements with me. Come in; the wind is piercing.” ' The’man hesitated. ‘ ' ,“ No,‘ Moll,” he answered. “Time is pre- ’ clone; I’ve none of it to spare. ‘ But have you any company?” I , . V F,“No. I have had but one visitor to-day. ' f :‘fith‘asgone out for prey—Black Ben.” V gauche spoke the eyed the fellow closely. y . That person visibly started; but quickly re. ._, W’hims‘elf, he _ I"). Slim men is not to be trusted, Moll; he is " r flicks and treachery.” flab}; tBtrsngel « He says the same of— the woman’s reply. "f ' scammed, (as it getting inipatient and [anxious ' , witnessed; this conference in‘ the cold air, 5‘ ffvm'ml surveyoui’! - ‘ ' r i want the sloth,- Moll.” -' - ' 1" fiffhaskim Why the-river is freezing now, W' e v « I flflonfoand the freezing!” interrupted the ' . .“Did I say anything about ’.I want the skiff; I'll pay well for it, advance. ' But, hark ye, Moll, I have . tog-day and Im’lt not borrow the, Mg”?! I You shall have the skiff. But whys the game?" . fl 7, - v’tfifiamlers are still about; you are forgetful, -‘, "ffiecious few they are, my friend,” was .7 ‘woman‘srguiok reply; “ Yes; and they 1;. are Wellzhoused. But the skiff is yours-three 1 sith in advance, the price,” she hastened to 1' say in a businesslike way. L j‘tGoodl‘ here are ciao dollars, Moll,” an- ” swered thelman, promptly, as he felt in his and handed out the money in silver "Honor-tors. g liberal, my friend; you are flush,” ' ’ said Moll, snapiciously. ~ ' ' ""I am that way occasionally; but the skid, .Moll; 1am in ahurry. I tell you I am full . “Glad to hear‘it, and hope you’ll be paid »wélil;¥‘ But, howi‘nany pare?” Then he s The man'hesitated fora moment. answered: ., . , , no}, of course' fertile current ice is x ‘ . \ ‘fr' ~ "vr But I must hurry; we ' u But,» she V the sheet at the man who had brought it. ' scrutiny was but momentary. make , “ Do you the shot I” asked the woman, in a whisper; “ Shot! Nonsensa, ' Moll. Nothing of that I sort, old girl,” and the speaker laughed grimly. - .“Well, the skiff is under the shed. Two pairs of cars are in it. ” “ Good. I’ll have everything back before daybreak, ice or no ice. Good-night.” “Good-night,” and the woman closed the door and disappeared. ‘ The man at once drew the light skiff from under the shed, and springing lightly in, shoved it off. The light craft soon felt the rushing current, and guided by the man who sat in the stern sheets, it shot rapidly down the stream. A3 300 however, as the old woman’s house Was hi behind the beetling rock, the man grasped an‘ oar, and, using it as an oar, sent the boat, with a few vigorous strokes, driving ashore under an overhanging clump of dead bushes. He sprung out and searching around soon found and flung into the skiff a bag, tied around one end with a stout cord. Once aboard again, the fellow shoved off, and taking the oars rowed rapidly down- stream toward the dam. CHAPTER XIV. CLINTON owc’s 00104111. THE letter which had» hastened Clinton Craigfs departure from Minerva Clayton’s pres- ence, was quite brief, though urgent, and im- perative in tone. It ran thus: “Dun 0.: ' ' “I know where you are. I take the libertyto send John and bid you herewith, to come home at once. Trouble is brewing, and you are Wanted. [am in our room' and you have compan wai for on. hang it! i have been here two ours! n’ be' wasting the night in—folly, to say the least, when serious matters demand, your attention. Come at once. and, from his unypleasant‘position, relieve, “ ours sincerely, Faun." When, Clinton reached home,and entered, he stood for a moment in the hall, as though he was undecided. The young fellow felt that some great trouble was impending, that some ominous cloudwas stretching over the horizon, and casting a black, impenetrable shadow at his feet. ‘ , But banishing his dark thoughts, he threw aside his hat and overcoat, and ascending th stairs lightly—for the hour was late—he turn tO‘the left and entered his room. ‘ ‘ FredAshe was seated‘near the grate. He was quietly smoking a cigar, and gazing va- cantly at the red coals. But a serious shade rested npon‘the doctor’s face, and the expres- sion of his eyes was anxious and foreboding. Was be thinking of .Alice Ray, lost to him! Was be thinking etc-Alice Ray, probably lost to the world? Or, was be thinking of troubles in which his bosom friend was involved? ' But as Clinton entered the room, Fred turned to a man who sat near the table, and said: “ l unhappy to inform you, sir, that this is Mr. Craig.” The man arose and bowing half-respectfully, half-carelessly, said in a tone that was quite steady and composed: ', “Excuse me for presuming toawait your coming, sir. Time was an object with me, and I could not postpone the occasion of my visit nan unpleasant one, sir, but one which I have not hesitated to perform. ‘1 have the honor to hand you this cpmmunication.” He held out; an unsealed envelope to the young man. , , “Be seated, sir, 'and excuse me for a mo- ment,” said young Craig, politely, at the same time receiving and Opening the missive. He read it through carefully. Then, without moving his head, he glanced over the top of His The man was a short, heavily-built fellow. True enough he was clad as a. gentleman; but he did not bear about him the breeding of one. “ I suppose, sir, you are acquainted ~with the contents—with the. tone of this communica- tion?” asked Clinton, gianeingqagaingat his mummy» - , ' , i -‘ II‘K"I i l -,"’ i it! am,” was the prompt reply. “I now :‘await your answer, sir.” ~ , This was business-like and toxthe point.“ , “ Can you oblige me by returning to-morrow when I willibe better prepared to reply to this note! ‘1 need a few hours to deliberateon the matter”, . “I was under the impression, sir, that, you had been informed of this expected call. If I. mistake not, such was the information I re- ccived from my friend.” ' The man spoke very coolly. Clinton Craig winced; and his cheeks slightly - reddened. In his mad joy, and his love- blindness for Minerva Clayton, the young man; had, indeed, forgotten almost everything. He certainly had forgotten his note that morning requesting his friend, Fred Ashe, to call in the evening. ‘ But he aroused himself, and asked: “Are you aware, sir, of the relationsexist. ing between Algernon Floyd and myself?” ' ‘ “ If rumor speaks truly, I am aWare, sir, that no real relationship exists between you-— Mr. Floyd,” and he made a spiteful emphasis, “blood-nephew to your adopted father. Cor» a meeting between gentlemen.” ' time he hit his lip angrily. ’ I “ There is no relationship, sir, which can make one backward in such a matter as this,” he, answered, tartly. “ Excuse me while I'bave five minutes’ priva‘te conversation with my friend here.” ‘ “Certainly,” and the man turned coolly, to a ‘ / book of photographs, while Clinton, beckoning Dr. Ashe to follow him, withdrew to an ad— joining room. “ A confounded bad matten, Fred, apd what; am I to do?” exclaimed the young man,.as som x1 as they were out of earshot. “ Ay, and all this right under my adopted. father’s nosel” “ ' “ Don’t disturb yourself about that, Clinton, ’9 returned the doctor. “Mr. Floyd is absent trom home tonight.” “ Absent! ' And where young man in surprise. ' “ When I came here thisevening, old Barton told me that your father had been suddenly summoned toMmiayunk. I behave due of the mills had stopped, and the foreman wanted. the old gentleman to come out and look at He is he!" asked the will return to-morrow—F-or. rather, today; for ~ ’tis now half-past twelve o’clock.” ‘9 A raw night for .the good old-man; and he so delicate and, frail. But Fred, this business ~ with Algernon Floyd isa troublesome matter. Yesterday morning I would have welcomed such a message from him; but now,” and he sighed, “it gives me annoyance.” I ' “Enactly; I suppose it’son account of your relations to Minerva Clayton? Do not be of... fended at my frankness, Clinton; I am your friend.” nerva’s account that I am disinclined to meet this fellow. We are engaged, Fred; we will be married. two weeks from tonight.” I The young physician started back. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “Then,,my friend,~it is, indeed, too late towarn you of that woman—of Minerva Clayton l” . ’ “Warn me, Fred! Speak not of Miss Clay,- ton in such terms; she is my emanced.” ‘ Fred Ashe made no reply; hesimply bowed his head and kept his 'eyes fastened upon the floor. said, decidedly: “.Whatever may be your relations and your engagements, Clinton, you are still classed among gentlemen; as such you are accountable. I know the contents of that note, the fellow who brought ittook commendable pains to en— lighten me on the subject. Moreover, he vol- tainly that relationship should not be a bar to ‘ Suddenly, however, he looked up and. ‘ 'Again young Craig’s face flushed; and this . 4' i 1 l /, u 1 am [not oflended, Fred; and it m Mi~ - f unteered this statement, that in case you re— ' ' Jected the invitation to mortal combat, Alger— non Floyd would post you in the clubs as a" . puppy and a coward, and would seek a. street ' encounter with you.” . r '. “The contemptible scoundrell? and Clinton Craig’s eyes flashed venomously. J'This deter- . l, l r. » mines .1118. I 1 you good-night, ;}.'«‘,‘ ’v ' . ,f Fred; I’ll the fellow, and my . aim shall not fail me!” “Truth is, Clinton, you could not do other— wisee-I wish that you could,” said the phy; sician. “But, appreciating the position in which I already feared that you were placed, _ I offered this fellow myself as your substitute either in a re'nconter with him or with his principal.” ' , “Noble Fred! But you shall run no such risk for me. Come what may, I will give Al- gernon Floyd satisfaction.” So saying, accompanied by his friend, he re- entered the room wherein he had left the bearer of the challenge. ' “I'accept this letter—the invitation which it contains, sir,” be said, quietly; “and I refer you to my friend here, Dr. Ashe.” , , “.Thanks for your promptness, sir. I sup- pose, doctor,” turning to the young physician, “as time is precious, and as I think it is the desire of “all parties to have this affair settled as soon as possible, we might as well make our brief arrangements here?” . ~ “ At your service,” responded the doctor, coldly, and not even consulting Clinton. The two drew their chairs close together and at ~ once entered into a law conversation. Young Craig stood all the time at the further side of the room, his head bowed upon his bosom. ' ' The conference between the seconds lasted for some time. At length they arose. "Thank you, doctor; it is arranged to my entire satisfaction. And may I ask,” be con- tinued, “ that, in view of the fact that we wish the matter to be as quiet as possible, you will extend surgical ‘ aid in case my friend is wounded?” ‘ “ In that event I am, most assuredly, at his service,” was the ready reply. “‘Thanks, sir; and Ihave the honor to bid gentlemen.” " ' He bowed and left the , room. Dr; Ashe ac- companied him to the street-door, and re- turned in a few. moments. - J “ You’ must go to bed, Clinton-and to sleep, too,” he said, positively. “You need rest; for v yOur‘haud must be steady in the morning.” The physician spoke gravely. ’“ In the morning! He! so soon?” ' “Yes; and thesooner the better; but come, i' Clinton; under such circumstances as this, it is ' PM?“ \ . of carriages drew up from different directions , on Girard avenuebat that time almost econo- , ;, try road—to the rear of Lemon Hill. ' two gentlemen. both customary and necessary to make art rangeinents of one’s aflairs—in case—Why, of accident, your‘know. You meet to-morrow , morning at half-past ei‘ght o’clock; the place, back of Lamon Bill; and weapons, dueling pistols; the distance, ten " ’ A conference, lasting an hour, took place be. tween the two friends. When it ended Clinton Graig, sad and gloomy, arose and said, with deep emotion: “Heayen bless you, Fred! and Heaven stand by-ine in this encounter—401' Minerva’s sake I” ' he went from the room. Dr. Ashe remained with his friend‘ that Early next morning, as the sun Was rising over theicold, clear-rimmed horizon, a couple I The ex- act spot was where at this day stand the re- mains of the earth-breastwork thrown up dur. _ 311g the recent civil war. From each of these two carriages descended They hastily took their way over the little hill, through the frozen snow, until they had reached a small level plateau. No time was lost with the preliminary arrange- ments; and after a. little sharp wrangling be- tWeen the Seconds, in which Dr. Ashe carried fills Point, the principals took their places. They saluted coldly. “(13098, ‘the challenger insist on going on , {with this duel?” asked Dr. Ashe, after a mo- .,_ment’s pause.‘ , ' (one doggy? was the. prompt. reply, from A]. ‘ Floyd himself. . returned the doctor; and, paw ,gnearlL's principal, he'whispered: I . ’ 1 .f,,_ . ,V1._‘..,,.L,.,,: \ ‘h‘~;",' ,‘ l ' t'. j- “ Be firm, my friend! and him 1” He strode 0n and withdrew to a safe dis- tance. ‘ , The giving of the word, and the dropping of the handkerchief had fallen by lot to Floyd’s second. Taking his place, the fellow said, in a low, but distinct voice: “ Are you ready, gentlemeni‘l / “Ready!” returned both of the men, who stood, with the deadly weapons in hand, facing one another. , l l‘ Then fire at the word three. Again: are you ready?” . ‘ " Ready 1” was the simultaneous response. “ Then; one—two l—J’» Before the word three was reached there came a flash, and a report. ‘ One of the principals staggered backward and sunk into the pallid snow. CHAPTER XV. LIFE AND DEATH. ‘ WE must go back somewhat in the story we * are telling. Dr. Ashe entered the room of the sufferer on tip-toe. He paused for a moment to see his way more clearly, as the room was darkened and his eyes were blinded by the dazzling snow without. Slowly he drew near the bed; he walked as though his .feet Were shod with down. Again he paused, his breath coming and going rapidly, his heart pulsing wildly. The young man trembled with excitement, anxiety and dread. At last he stood by the bedside and bent over it. ’ Long-drawn, labored breathing fell upon his ear; low, muttered'words of delirium, mean- ingless 'in import, disconnected and empty, broke the dreary silence of the room. The physician gently took the small, burning hand in his, and slid his sensitive linger over the bounding artery. He did not start; he quietly let go the feverish hand, and shook his head sadly, discouragingly. He laid his fingers on the invalid’s forehead, felt the arteries throbbing over the temple, and moothed back- the clustering massés clouded the face. g “Worse! worse!” he muttered, half-aloud-- “ much worse! ay! dangerousl” The girl turned restlessly.~ ' “ Who ,spokei" who spoke?” she murmured. “ I am listening. Was it you, Clinton? ,or you, Minerva Clayton? «Oh! ‘Minerva! ' Minerva Clayton, you have stolen my darling from me! You—you—J’ - ' ' ‘ ‘ Her voice died array as the poor girl turned wearin on her pillow. ' r And still Doctor Ashe stood there, alone, by the bedside of the sufferer—alone in her room! And the young man’ bosom heaved; and as the sad, weary sigh forced’ itself from the bosom of the unconscious girl, a tear stood in the strong man’s big brown eye;‘and he turned aside to let that tear—drop fall unmarked, un. a . . t ‘ Again, in a sweet, plaintive undertone, the girl murmured: ' “ 0h, Heaven, how I loved him! loved him purely, trustinglyl And I thought so fondly so foolishly, that he loved me! Alas! that i was so rudely awakened to the terrible truth. of wavy gold thatbe- But it was she who stole him from me—the‘ siren with the ravan locks, the'glittering eyes, the beauteous form! And Clinton has buried mel buried me in a grave of woe and misery. ' Yet, I murmur not; for I am going—going far beyond the rosy clouds—far beyond the shining river! going there to rest.” _ Again her mutterings died away, and again she turned languidly upon thebed. She scarce- ly seemed to breathe,,though the marble-like bosom was heaving tumultuously beneath the snowy linen. Again the young physician stole his finger over the bounding, irregular pulse. This time be started violently. “Good heavens!“ he» exclaimed. _ “She is worse! all the time worse! Something must be done, at once; ,Be steady, my‘reeling'bralnl Stand by me nomand may God’s unér ' finger point to the saving remedy.” - ‘, V, . Heyhurried out into the silent balk ‘ ‘ ' .{l ;. ' ’ fly, but‘frankly: . _ l" oiled lines on a slip of paper, and dispatched it}; ‘ ' fez-er. ,‘l‘here he set as the ‘time. dragged ; , wearilygliy; still, as yet, there’came no change l “ How is she, doctor? Speakll .You‘tarried ; long!” and the father’s voice trembled with g - fear and anxiety. . - - ~, ' “Come, Mr. Ray; follow me to the parlor," - f was the reply which the physician made, as he I ' led the way himself down-stairs to the apart- .1 ment designated. ' . ' _ - The old man followed. , , Once in the parlor, Fred Ashe, now self—pos— , . “ sessed and self-reliant, turned and said serious-I If; “Your daughter is worse, Mr. Ray.” “Much worse, doctor? dangerous?" » “ Much worse, and dangerously ill,” was the soft reply. . “ ' “ 0h, Heaven! spare my child!” groaned the -' poor father. “She is my all! Take me in— " stead, but spare her!" , I . Up and down the room strode Dr. Ashe, pays . ing no heed to the distracted old man, Who was ' watching his every movement. Suddenly the young man paused. ', “Did the nurse administer the medicine as I' a , directed, Mr. Ray?” ' ' ‘ - “ Punctually, sir.” , ‘ ‘ “Was the ice applied to the head as or- dered?” . '_ “ I attended to that myself, doctor)! ’ g , Again the physician, his eyes bent upon the floor, strode meditativer up and down the. ,7 room. Again he paused. n - . ' ' “ Think not hard of me, Mr. Ray,” be said, in a low, distressed tone; “nor think‘that I am callous and cruel when I speak very plainly to you.” ~ ' ,. “Say on, doctor; with God’s help, I am pre- pared to listen.” ' - , “Yes, sir; unless there is a change in, your daughter within six or eight hours, she cannot u “Cannot recover! Oh, Heaven. stand-,1” ’ , n, “ Listen, my dear friend,” interrupted the _, * physician speaking slowly and calmly.’ “‘I’ll ‘ do as m ch for Alice as mortal man can do. I’ll try a remedy—will stay and administer it“ myself—which. seldom fails. Should it fail; ' there is yet one resource -left-only’ one; and " that, fraught with danger—one be » ’1’ to only when all, other hope'is gone! Should it ‘ . succeed, life fa saved; should it fail, death will , a \ . be hastened. It is a remedy to be approached ’ with fear and dread. ‘Yet, should it " sary, I not shrink from it.” ’ ‘ ‘ ’ \He stopped. I ‘ » ‘ “ I am listening, doctor; I place implicit con- 3, A fldenceinyou.” . 7 », 5 “Your daughter’s brain, Mr. BAY. is , with torrents of hot, burning blood; , ~-, ., is, almost literally, being fi'consumed. . shone :4. the brain-structure itself break down, fiendis- *' estrous end could not be delayed a single,h10" g ment. Now in a word: should the remedy, ~ which I purpose to administer forthwith, .5 to effect ‘a radical change for the betteigby ' _ eight o’clock this eVening I shall out both of ' the temporalarterles." . ' ' "i “What!"_ ‘ . - 7 “And now the danger,” pursued the ph ’si-' clan, not noticing the interruption: “shou (if have miscalculated m'y patient’s strength—Lao l - I am free to say there are no reliablevdats for ' determining it—she will die in the twinkling of ' f / an eye! If on the other hand she can/spans four, nay two ounces of blood,'she’ll besivel: as certainly as the sun shines in the hem eo'm'“ " ‘ ~ He spoke positively. ' ; “Again, doctor, I trust you implicitly!” walled the poor father. V a j ‘ . The physician bowed, dashed off a few pen-F'r , “1‘, to the neighboring drug-Store. . . . , V Five—ten—iminutes elapsed when the ~~ senger returned with the vial containing the ‘ . medicine ordered. Dr. Ashe took it himself, ascended the stair atabound and again entered 2 the sick chamber. . ‘ " '« » -. if], And there, with the vial in his hand, his finfi ' ger upon the pulse, sat‘ Fred Ashe, watching. every flickering thrill that sped through the arteries, watching every changng exprestionj’ that flitted‘ over the saintlyfacemof the sea, 4",. , . l, 4,. ‘ . .>-‘:) ‘M '5‘ I '1, a"' . . , , - ., , . ‘ * ' 16 L. ...,,L ,,‘f.v_;,%,,1" 1': ," ‘_. , n k r V ,’ ; A . I , .i , .r "rl I .. in ‘ still-the dark shade of,anxiety sat on. the phyv ‘ 'sician’s face. ‘ ' 5 ‘ The'battle was terrible; but it seemed now that remedies were- unavailing, that Science ' was powerless. V , (The shades of night some time before had , fallen ovor the great city, and eight o’clock was almost on the minute. _ , ,Dr. Ashe slowly arose. He placed the vial, ' emptied of its impotent contents, on the bu- " ‘reau. He felt in his vest-pocket. He took out ‘ I a lancet and" flashed its bright, clean blade in . ' the gaslight. 1 . g “A bowl,” he said to the old father. I ‘ The nurse arose and brought it. _ " q..“'l‘he time has come, Mr. Bay. This,” hold- ing up the keen-edged lancet, “is all that is left. Do you trust me, yet?” . ‘ Aomoment of agony, and the old man bowed ‘his head. ' , '.-“Life or death, .4 that he said. _.- Quietly, calmly the physician felt for the __ ,bounding artery, thrilling along the temple. , He fqund it. Then like a man of iron Fred ' ‘ Ashe griped 'the glittering steel. Then he :1“ I «f . flashed it unflinchineg down. y; “The unerring lancet reached its mark; the ' bright red blood spun out in a jerking jet. Then the physician’s finger sought the wrist Ye heavens! the glad, bright smile that swept ; owes the young doctor’s face. , , . »' He placed his finger on the jetting wound, - checked the blood, and bowed his need. . 2 «I “Where am I? What is thisl, Oh! papal , ohl doctor!” broke from the girl, as she opened 3' her eyes and glanced consciome around her. fi‘She is saved! Heaven be praised!" mur- ‘ muredFred Ashe, bowing his line head until I, his brow rested upon the snowy coverlet. CHAPTER XVI. , ".4 ‘ “ mun DARK. , ' I! wasa hard pull that black winter night r- the rushing current of the Schuylkill. It is true that the two' men who bent, to the when ears were brawny and stalwart; and the _' was light. But I the rush of the waters "was.h'cmendous; and the thin coating of ice j , , V every moment as the night deepened madethe task of urging the boat onward no canyons. “At last, y a vigorous eflort, the » rower! shot the light craft ahead, and turning ‘ thekhowmsbcre, dashed hard up on the pebbly “ . “By Jove! hard work thlsl’“? ejaculated the man who pulled the stroke oar. “ Though the ~- «distauusis almost nothing, it, is hard to make. * ~Weillrest a spell, and try it again.” V “Right I trust you, doctor!” was all enough,” ans wered. the other. “ Yet must hurry; I must be in time to-night, know.” 1. ’ 1“! know it, and I, of all men, would be the tolforget your‘ errand. So come; let’s go. {flforb— YHal ’shi quiet] What’s that?” » . ‘5, ‘fWhlit’s what?” queried the, other, looking Wild in the direction indicated. ’ ._ “ Why, yonder is something. See that dark Object there by the bush; and I’d almost swear that "I heard the splash of an oar.” self; and the splash was the echo, under the bridge here of- this infernal current dashing humid theirocks; that’s all.” - ' This seemed to satisfy the other. ’ 1 “Then shove her oil! and let fall,” he said. “We must get the skifl housed; then we— Welg'we’ll have work enough tonight to let us rest, for a month. Ay 1—” g . aThearemainder of the Sentence was drowned 1.1;; roar of the current breaking against the ,. ,how of the alrifl, which had now been forced '1’ 1. out into the stream. At they rounded the tall, jutting rock, and water which they now had reached; being shoddy, mamoother. ' In five minutes more reached theold house on the brink of the liver. flaming the beat ashore, they secured “twat” sheaf leftthem .‘V the, telltale pulse, save for the worse; and, . “te5? . But that dark object is the bush it! ‘ ‘Slewl’y the oarsmen forced the boat onv'vard.’ ' m . v." ' v, in, ' "shoulder pain; and terribly. Andy's mot ’ ~ Twenty. minutes later, the‘ dark I ‘ which had been noticed by one of the rowers, suddenly assumed motion.“ It was a skiff; and the single person who sat in it was a. large, mastuline woman. Dextrously she used an. oar as a paddle, and hugging the shore, urged the boat rapidly ahead. ,- She apparently knew every inch of her way-every current and every eddy. She, in due time, success- fully rounded the large rock. “Aha!” she muttered, grimly, as her boat glided along toward, the old house on the bank. “I have seen strange sights in my timel~s sights to make the chicken-hearted faint. And I, also— But who can keep a secret better than I? Ayl and who can make a secret pay better than I 1? Well we’ll see if some secrets can’t be made to bring in gold! It’s more than likely. Ha! ha!” and her mocking laugh rung out in the .quiet, desolate scene." “De- ceive me! Bah! I never—” At that moment a sudden flash Spitted out from the darkness ahead, and a sharp report awoke the echoes, while a whizzing bullet hurt- The woman drOpped at once to the bottom of the boat; though she was not. touched by the deadly messenger. Instantly flying feet, spurning the frozen snow on shore, were heard. For five minutes the woman allowed the boat to drift away. But, at last, she stealthin raised herself, and easing the our noiselessly into the water, once more urged the skiff ahead. , She opened not her lips until she sprung ashore. Seizing the painter, she hauled in the boat unaided and alone, as if it were a feather. and secured it alongside the other al- ready there. , ‘ ‘ . “You missed your aim,.cowardly rascal!” she then muttered. “ And now, for that trick, there is a score betwixt us. Time Will 17611 how it’llbesettled. Iknow'the ring of that pistol; and I know the man that pulled the triggerl' Let him look to himself; ayl and to- morrow the river will be closed—frozen! Well, well, it is uncommon handy to have two skiflsl” Muttering thus, old Moll turned to the door, and, after giving one glance out over the dim, , gray waters, entered the house. The next day-«the one on which the duel was fought bmk of Lemon Hill, the one on which Dr. Ashe battled so nobly, as an ally of . life against death—the yellow Schuylkill was frozen over, hard and tight. Imbedded in the hard ice‘crust, down near the Fairmount dam, was a gentleman’s hat. CHAPTER XVII. memo; ‘ Cnmon Cure sat in his room, sad and anxious. . His left arm was supported'in a sling, and his face was pale a$12111 wan. Every movement gave him pain, 6. caused him to lean back, faint and exhausted.’ His shoulders were covered. with a loose smoking jacket. 0n the table lay a letter which he had, just man- aged, with some efl'ort, to write; it was direct- ed to Minerva Clayton, and itbinformed the girl that he had met with a somewhat painful accident which prevented him from coming to see her. - » ' The accident aflair was of course a fabrica- tion; but Dr. Ashe had, for sake of quiet, re- commended this» flb. . - Algernon Floyd’s pistol-ball was the acci- dent; and it came near ending Clinton Craig’s life itself. \ * g V On the mantle in the room were several roller]. bandages, a sling or so, a bottle of coolingil lotion, and various surgical appliances which denoted the attention of Dr. Ashe. Yet, for a whole day and night, and part of another day, the young physician had not been near his friend. He was with another patient—the reader knows whom. ‘ l ‘ “,Hang it!” muttered young Craig. “ ,I wish Fred would come, if he intends coming at all! Here, Johnl” he exclaimed, as the serving boy in the hall; f‘run up to the doctor’s and mm to mime and see me, 7‘ , Tell him that v \ to theyoung man. ' shoulder. You must put up with some p ‘ment, John; has father returned from the mills?” ‘. “Not yet, sir; and Barton is very uneasy about him, sir, and says he is going out to Manayunk this afternoon to see about him.” 1 “Ah! yes; Barton had better go. Away so ' long! and— But, John, away with you, and hurry back.” . I ' “Yes, sir,” and the boy left. « , “ ’Tis very strangethat the old gentleman tarries long away,” resumed Clinton, in an un- easy tone, as the door closed. “I am uneasy about him. The weather was severe; he may” be sick from exposure to it. Heaven grant that—~" . ‘ ' Just then a modest rap sounded on the door, and old Barton, the body-servant, put his head into the room. ‘ “Called by to ask, sir, how’s your arm?" said the old man, respectfully. “Powerful unlucky accident,” he continued, as he entered the apartment. ' “Yes, Barton; thank you. The arm, is no better; far from it, As you say, it was an ugly affair~accident..” . For a moment the aged domestic wassilent; but there was a speaking seriousness in his face as he moved softly around by, the grate. Clinton noticed the expression. 1 “Well, Barton, any news of father?” he asked. ’ “That’s just it,” answered Barton, quickly. “ l’ve known your father for thirty years, sir; but I never knew him, to be so—-'-I must say it, sir—so foolish as to go out in such weather as we had night before last—and upon the river, too.” 1 “Upon the river! How——what~ do you mean?” _, “Why, sir, he said something to me as he was leaving the door, to the effect that Mr. . Miller had sent to Columbia bridge for him in _ a carriage, but that owing to roughness of the ‘ river road he was to take a boat at Fairmcunt to the bridge.” ‘ x “ Yes. But he was well wrapped up? ' “ Certainly, sir. But the wind blewed pow- ' erful hard, and that stretchon the river, am. I’m afraid the old gentleman is laidup with the pleurisy or rheumatiz. But I’ll go right/away and look after him; I can’t wait until the after: ~ noon.” , ' A pause ensued; but Barton did not leave, the room. ~ . p ‘ ' Clinton Craig bent his eyes moodilyon'the floor. He was thinking; I “r Yes, Barton; suppose you go now!” he said at length, looking up. “ And——yes—hitch Davy to my trotting-wagon and drive out. He can take you there in twenty minutes if You give him his head. ,1, too, amivery uneasy about father. But, one moment, Barton: has, Algernon Floyd indeed left the house 1” “ He haSn’t been here for two days, sir. He and the old gentleman hadit hot and heavy: ' and so, Mr. Algernon has quit. He has taken his tlnngs away too—even dowu to the old red silk cord that was to his father’s portrait; but he left the picture in the library.” , e ., , ‘-‘ Very good. N ow hurry, Barton; and 88 ~ the weather is cold you may push Davy.” “Yes, sir,” and the old domestic left the room at once. Clinton leaned his head upon his hand find: pondered. He did not like the look of affairs; the continued absence of Mr. Floyd was. puzm zling, and there came over him a vague fear of impending trouble. But he shook this 03 as he heard a step on the stair. In a moment the boy, John, entered the room. « , “Doctor was in a. big hurry, sir," he said. ‘ “ But he sent this, sit,” and he handed a note Clinton opened it, clumsily, spread out sheet as well as he could, and read ‘ “ DEAR Cum: ' * “ Don't be u easy. ’I am responsible for our _ N 0 man ever born has gone through the W011 with x , ,‘ out more or less-of it. But, Irthank heaven, Clint, . thatAlice Ray is out of clan er, and that she is ta. 2 2 idly eonvalescinm The batt e was a mush one, bu ‘ i , L", i and w eyes, as ‘1 gm, / 1 yaw .o’ * with God’s blessing, science won it. , U, , my hey, there are someistran‘ge rumors abroad in the city inwhich you are concerned. Do not be star— “ tled. I am going now to search into these rumors, on ma ct me early this: evening to bring e res tfx’fill ‘ then excuse me. you ' v “ Yours ever, 5‘ F . .9, Slowly the young man refolded the note, . laced it in his desk, and casting the letter for Fainerva Clayton to the boy, bade him post it. l The day wore wearin away to Clinton ,' ’ Craig. His arm pained him much; and he was 3 feverish and restless from excitement. ‘ But the weary hours did drag themselves :. away; darkness settled over the city. and the lamps in the streets were lighted. But Fred Justus seven o'clock was‘striking, confused noises and voices were heard at the street door , of the Floyd mansion; then the tramping, as of . a crowd of men, echoed distinctly. Then the door of the mansion was opened, and the hall- way in a moment was filled with a turbulent throng. ‘ ' _ Clinton Craig sprung to his feet, and hurry— ' . ing tothe balusters looked down inamazoment and half in awe. , The passage was filled ith V policemen, who were putting out those ofiicious ‘ ones that had endeavored to force their‘way behind them. The officers finally succeeded, and placed two or their number to guard the door. ' Scarcely crediting his senses, Clinton ran to a front window of his room and gazed out. The street was filled With a. motley crowd of men and boys; and the air was discordant with their clamorous uproar. Wondering, and tearing what he could not , ' define, the young man hurried again to the ; head of the stairs and looked down. I Among ’ p}! the policemen, Clinton saw asmall boy, with i a pair of skates slung over his shoulder. He . also saw Mr. Miller, the superintendent of the Floyd factories, old Barton, and his bosom friend, (Dr. Fred Ashe. The whole party were holding an excited conference. This was termv inated‘ suddenly by Dr. Ashe, who exclaimed , - In a loud, indignant tone to the officer who ' i seemed to be in charge or the squad: “I scornyour insinuation, sir! I do not bar the ways oi justice; but I do enter a ,. martin protest against any such procedure as s. . “ We do not doubt your heneSty a! motive, doctor,” returned the sergeant, firmly though - respectfully;_“_but, in in word, Sir, suspicions point to Mr. Craig. We know, already,that he was brought home, early yesterda morn. i118, iron: the neighborhood or the rk; we also know that he was wounded. We must find put the nature of that wound, and the manner in which he received it. Without more words, 511": allows, peaceably, to do our duty.” 5° my {118, the sergeant pushed by and beck- “ wngztwo 9‘, the policeman ‘to follow him, as- . 232;?! the stairs and entered Clinton Craig’s “Are you Mr. Clinton Craig?” asked the oflicer at ages. ' 4 ‘1 a ' was‘the rom t “ wharf—"u": P P reply. Now, , “ Then I west 10“, 3i!" in the name oi.’ the _j Commonwealth.” ' ‘ . “Arrest me i’ ,Mind you, my maul Arrest Q ‘ .melrand for what?” ,. ' _ .“For the murder of ThompsOn Floyd,” was f, v the reply. ' f CHAPTER XVIII. , AN ENEMY’S TESTIMONY. - U “ ON the day after the fearful struggle for the, mam”? Alice "Bay was able to sit up in bed. A couldfconverse rationally andlwithout fa- e. . V . ‘ ~ _ 0n the next day, when the doctor had re- turned “03% he”, a glad light lit up his fine tn, , he ‘mal‘kad'tho wondrous change for . the batten? Impatient. And Alice bent on A 7 9-3an in“ *1 beaming look of gratitude ’3‘ ‘thfldenco. . ». V . - .I 3 , ‘ , Ashe had not come; nor bad old Barton as yet . ‘ returned. ‘ But then a slight cloud spread over'thaphyn sician’s face. He wasthinking that the victory, 'which he had won was barren of fruit to him; he knew that Alice Ray could never be his wife; he knew, too, that his sad heart would ever be mateless, now. And then another terrible bat- tle began in the young man’s bosom—that bat- tle was waged to win a victory over himself. Yet though we endeavor to faithfully chron- icle events, we cannot record how that struggle ended. ‘ In due and speedy time Alice recovered, and, though for, a. time her face was pinched and sallow, and her eye dim and lusterless‘, yet, the roses bloomed soon again in the faded cheeks, " and light and hope glanced from those dove» like orbs of skyey blue. Whether or not her heart was happy we cannot say; but, in speedy time, Alice Bay, in all that marks a gentle, lovely maiden, was herself again. We will not attempt to describe the sensa- tion created in the [city by the absence of Mr. Floyd. Rumor spread on rumor and by eve‘ 'ning there were a. hundred startling reports afloat. One had it that the old man had been murdered in Fairmount Park, and another that . he had been overcome by cold, had frozen to death by the mill~houses, and that the stormy winds had blown his hat into the congealing‘ water. ‘Another rumor had it that his hacked andmutilated body had been found near Gi- rard avenue bridge, and so on, and so On. None of these reports were true, so far- as proof was concerned. * Ofiicers were soon at work, quietly, yet searchingly; but no clew had been discovered leading to the clearing up of the mystery. ~ 1 These flying‘reports reached MinervaClay- ton’s ears in due time. The proud girl's eyes flashed almost with exultation as she heard the startling tidings. She was even then glorying in the happy thought she would soon be the wife of a handSome and wealthy young gentle- man. , Later in the day another terrible, mysterious report got wind. It was waited quickly abroad, rushing like the storm itself; That report, was that old Thompson Floyd had been murdered and. flung into the Schuylkill, and that the mur- derer was-—-CIJNTON CRAIG! ‘ - This report, even more startling than the others, likewise reached Minerva, the bank. president’s daughter. And, strange to say, the maiden did not evince much emotion. There ‘ was. a sudden, perceptible start in her, a rapid paling of the peachy cheeka. a frightened, tremulous expression about the eyes. But there speedily came a calm, which was as. un‘ natural as it Was sudden. Then she'seated her- self, while a serious shade gradually spread over her face, and tell to naming. An hour passed. ' When the girl at last arose tlmre was an un- mistakable smile of satisfaction, of a. well—won triumph, on her lovely face; and she murmured, softly: M “ Well, well! it matters not to me! In either case, I’ll gain my point; for I must—may! I t already have won I” We will return to Clinton Craig’s room on this eventful night when he had been arrested for the murder of his adopted father. As thoso fatal words: “For the murder at Thompson Floydl” fell from the oflicer’s lips, Clinton staggered, back, and, clutching feeny at the doorfacing, murmured, in a tone of agony: . “Murdered! murdered! . Oh, Heaven! no!” “ Bear up, Clinton! be a man. This is false; and I’ll, stand by you!” . . “I’m sorry to “perform so Sada duty, Mr. Craig,” said the sergeant as the doctor ceased. ' “ But I must take you before an alderman. and now. ,Whatever you or your friend may have to say please defer until then. I must search this room, and this house, before I leave.” “Do your duty, ‘oflicer; I’ll not hinder you,” answered Clinton, who had now recovered his composure, leaning, pale but determined, on the arm of Dr. Ashe. , , Leavingapolioeman ln‘tbe room, the sat- r gaunt, bidding [oldijarton to follow ' _ 3 011'- \ tered the library and searched it thoroughly. Every drawer that «was unlocked was in- spected: likewise the bookcase, the tables'and all the furniture. ‘ ~ ‘ “Do you miss anything from this . man?” asked the sergeant, as he paused after finishing the work of search. , ' ‘ “Only one article, sir; a pocket-pistol which ~ Mr. Floyd always kept in that draWer, there.” i ’ The officer noted this. “Anything else? Are you sure?”be askéd,’ S looking up from his memorandum-book. Old Barth hesitated.‘ Then he said: ' . 7 “Nothing else,.sir, except an old silk cord .' that used to hold that picture up,” and-:he pointed to the portrait of Lieut. Floyd. “Ah!” ejaculated thesergeant, as he made , U another. entry. Then he left the room, and ' proceeded to search the mansion from top to " bottom, from garret to cellar. But nothing ‘ was disturbed, nothing taken. , . . " Ten minutes afterWard Clinton Craig, in, company with his friend who so nobly stood by ' him, and with the sergeant, entered a carriage ; in waiting, amid the ' wild booting of the throng. away. . , An oflicer was left at the Floyd mansion, " with orders to admit no one save members of v the family. 2 ~ ~ ' ' A moment and the vehicle jolted Only a few moments elapsed beforq,Cliuton. f ‘ Craig was standing before, an, alderman. ,, small room was crowded almost to sufucatioh, while a shouting mob outside made the night, “ ‘ hideous. ' ’ ' , ' Near the alderman’s desk stood Mr. Miller; the superintendent of the factories, 'old Barton r and the boy with the skates. The lad our. 2. . ried a gentleman’s silk hat. ‘ _ For a moment there was a breathless silence as the alderman conferred with the sergeant in’ an undertone. turned toward the young man who was now standing firm and alone, and said:' ‘ ‘ w. “ An unpleasant task for me, Mr. ' duty is duty. You are arrested, air, on tho suspicion of having murdered yourbeet 1W 3 --your adopted father." “ I am innocent of ‘ the air, before God‘and maul” The words were spoken bravely Dr. Ashe watched his friend crime, siri innocent, with “That is not for me to decide: them ' ‘ I . will decide'that matter ” said the e , “I must see it ., with dignity. , . are supported by ample evidence; Mdenoo‘snf‘ flcient to warrant your commitment for Now, answer me only this question; are: directlyorindn-ectiy,; "perty held and owned by .‘" j , The question was plain and its answer was not slow in ‘ ' ‘ ‘ “Ihavegoodreasontothink that I 7‘: plied the prisoner, boldly. ' " “ Did your adopted father aver you that he had'made atestament,’ willing ' propertytoyoul” - ‘ “Hetoldmeasmnch,morethanonce,"was- thbcalm repl . ' “That will do, sir,”'said the alderman, “an? expression of pity passed over his mos. turning to the old domestic, he said: - ’ . “ Eldredge Barton, swear on the Hay, Evans gensts, or afllrm, that you Will‘spelk this truth 1" l and naught but the truth, to the quanta; ' which I may put to you.” The oath was administered, and old gave his evidence. It was meager, ' v simply. to this: Mr. Thompson Flbyd had told him on the af-Ff ternoon in which the old gentleman left the house, that he had received a note, or a mes-F sage, from Mr. Miller, superintendent of the ‘ factories. requesting him to go out to Mann- 4 yunk and have a talk about some derangement of the machinery. A rough—looking man had ‘ brought the note. That he, Barton, afternng j days’ anxious waiting, had gone to Nominal: ' . and seen Mr. Miller. To his surprise, Mll- heard nothing or seen nothing of the o d 9 A g. nor had he sent a note. At length theiegal functionary - deal-any; x». -, y. m « .L 1, : - l -. . v3) -’"1'-‘ I i ‘1‘ 8 1 I x > ,",, ,x .1 \ l . tined that belied, neither sent a messenger or a‘ note 'to Mr. Floyd, and that the mill was in no way deranged. ‘ I, ‘2 The lad with the skates stated under oath, that he was skating out, on the - river by Fair- ' mount dam, and for a‘ compensation offered by f. ’a' policeman had ventured out on the ice and , .ysecm‘ed the hat which was half-imbedded in the river. I . v The magistrate reached over and taking the hat from the boy, read in it, aloud, the name: “Tnonrsox FLOYD, Spriwe street." / Aloud murmur filled the room. Then the alderman looking up, said: A . “The police-sergeant informs me that the , pistol belonging to Mr. Floyd is missing. v. « -.Now, Mr. Craig, tell me the nature of your , The young’man» started violently; his face poled and it was with dimculty that he con- ' . trolled himself. " ‘ “It is a wound from a bullet, sir,” he an- . swered, in a voice just above a whisper. Another loud murmur ran through the . a , rifle or pistol?" pursued the elder- man. ,. 7“th sir; but—it was an accident.” 1 The apartment was as silent as death. . “ An accident, sir? Ah! well;,we must look v a little further into——” ‘ - t ,V .i that moment there were loud voices out V 4‘». by the door, and then opened some confusion and jostling in the crowd, as a tall man elbowed this way rudely thrdugh the throng. In a vmoment emore Algernon Floyd, panting with ' exertion but calm and composed, strode for- ward. ‘ ~ 7 :1. ;“I beg your honox’s pardon,” he said, inclin- . , head to the law functionary; “ but I V ,, am come on important business. 'Mr. Craig ' ism-’1 ' ' - . , "‘Wolunteer no evidence, unless you are _ [1: Woman Floyd,” interrupted the alderman, = , sqggestively. . r .. ' ~ , ‘ Algernon Floyd’s face reddened; but he sim- . , ply bowed, and said; ' {‘1 was only anxious, sir, to do justice, i A- T forgot the requirements of the law. ‘ 'am‘ heady to be sworn, your honor.” . I! “ his lips reverentially to the Testa- As he did so, he gave a quick, glitter- ” Clinton Craig. ' _ I gentleman was aghast with as- ? ' ' but Fremneyer removed his , ernon yds dark face.’ flka, Mr. Floyd, you danspeak,” said the 'jf‘ was: I have to say, your honor, can bc _ told/h a few words.” on, sir.” I . r ,. “Gluten. Craig knows nothing of this aflair. or two sinee‘I saw him wounded by the . discharge of a pistol. Besides, sir, , lithium while searching through the limo! my unclah mansion, in company J g oficer lett in charge of the premises, Hound this slip of paper with the writing on :. it; Which yoh‘may see. It confirms the entirely [in my preconceived opinion; namely, that my nutmeg»? uncle has committed suicide by 7A3 hpfcenoluded he handed a strip of paper ‘ to the alderman; The room was hushed to .; the‘oompletest silence as that person took the a p of paper and cast his ’eyes over it. v, Then, in atone of some surprise, he read aloud "‘gthus: "x. ‘ ‘ ‘ . r ""‘Yes! yes! at times I am wretched,>and weary of . s Memory will not cease to good me; and forms - 1' and faces of dead ones gone forever, forever haunt “me! Can! live this burdensome life? Or, shall 1 i4 my life in my own hands! Have I such a ri ht? Alan! yes! beneath the crushing wheels of a rue lin locomotive, or under the dark waters of the Schuy -' kill, all trouble, all woe, all bygone memories would be t ,tteu! all anguish buried, all sorrow, for- ." ,‘gApinoonld have'béen heard to fall as the .uldermanslowly laid aside the scrap, of paper. ‘ «“There is no name to this,” he said; ,“ but-it deaths Writing of Thompson Floyd; foril‘lmow in: ghetyou m discharged, ’ x t W ' Millerhi‘msel‘fwasthen sworn,a.ndtes—1I 'knife under the shutter. timyselt « Undo—these circu stances I beg to. ‘ Leaning on} the steady arm of“ Dr. Ashe, g young Craig slowly made his 'way through the hushed throng. As he passed near the dark- cleared him, he said in earnestly: “From my heart I, thank you, Algernon Floyd!" : “ There is no need or Occasion, ClintonCraig," was the peculiar reply, given in the same low tone. f a whisper, but very CHAPTER XIX. GROPING. ~ SLOWLY, gradually the dark object by the wall assumed shape and then motion. Slewly straightening up as it moved along hugging the wall, it grew into the form of a brawny man; but'that man deformed, a hideous lump on the shoulder marring what might otherwise have been an elegant form. , ‘ Reaching a small gate the man placed his hands upon it and sprung lightly men He paused again, fearing that his footfall might betray him. But again he strode onward until - he stood beneath a window in the rear of the magnificent mansion. I The hour was between twelve and one o’clock, and the darkness was inky. “All’s well!” he muttered. “Ay! so far, all’s well. Courage, brave heart, and be true" to your master! I am working for high stakes, and upon the single turn of Fortune’s wheel depends success or failure. I cannot fail new, no! Everything has happened toowell thus far to- Happened 2 Yes; ha! ha! my lu’cky'star be praised. But now to work. Yonder is the window, below it the lock, and I have the key. I must do my best now with the line.” As he spoke, he drew from' his bosom a small, slender cord, knotted at regular intervals with cross-pieces. When' secured to a point and extended it would make a ladder. The man hesitated a moment; and, peering sharply above him in the blackness, he swung the coil around his, head and let it fly. But, almost instantly, it rattled down in a confused heap at hi feet. It had not caught. “Tao low!” was the growling ejaculation. “ I’ll try again.” h Once more he flung the cords up against the wall; and once more the attempt was a fail- ure. ' “ Curse , such luck!" muttered the fellow, angrily and excitedly. “ I’ll arouse that drew- ' sy policeman; then I'll not only lose‘ my chance, but raise the very devil himself. Here goes again!” ‘ He suited the action, to the word. This time he met‘with bettersuccess; for the line caught . fit to some projectionon the wall above, and do V The man cautiously pulled on! iii-even going so far as to hear his weight on the slender cords. But they did not giro way; they were made of good stuff. ‘ Without waiting further the fellow began the ascent of the swaying ladder, and in a mo- ment he paused directly, under the window above. He listened long and keenly; but all Was still. ’ Cautiously‘ the man passed a thin-bladed Prossing on it steadio ly he suddenly but softly opened the shutter. Again he paused for 'a moment; but itywas only for a moment. He noiselessly pushed up the sash, and in an instant had leaped lightly into the room. ' , The apartment was the library of old Thomp- son Floyd. The door leading out was closed. For a' moment the midnight visitor stood still and flashed his eyes around him in the gray darkness. Then groping his way around the table he finally reached the iron safe, to which reference has been made. 'Stooping, he drew from beneath his coat a small dark-lantern, and, turning the light partly on, drew a key _ from his pocket and inserted it slowly and carefully into the lock. But the'hidden bolts refused toyield. Again and. again he turned the key’; and always with the same result. ‘ ,“ Hang, it!” he, muttered betweenmis: teeth. n "1 The” oldiiglnsngrewrcautious before he-__—weil, bearded‘man, his enemy-rlwhos'e evidence had ; introducing the key, he turned it. 1 moved smoothly back, and the safe was ,y‘ lknov‘r his trick.“ , y / v He drew but a pimket‘dznife, and thrusting one of its small blades into the key-hole, pushed . it straight in. A slight snap was heard. Again The bolts opened. ‘ Then ensued a long search. Every drawer was taken out and its contents noted; every package of papers was looked through. and still .. the man was not satisfied. At last he had gone through everything in the safe.' He paused and whistled softly to himself. fully restored the drawers and papers to the safe, and noiselessly locked the pondercus irqn door. As he slowly straightened up, the light from his lantern‘fell on his face and revealed a strange blending of expressions resting there. Disappointment was plainly to be seen; but along with it was an ill—concealed expression of joy and hope. ' \ “’Tis not here!” he muttered. “Then, by heavens! he did not make one after all! ’tis all the better!” Saying this, he drew the screen over the face of the lantern, hid it beneath his coat, and drew near the window. Leaning out, he ar- ranged the ladder of cords with a running noose, cautiously got out open it, lowered the sash, closed the shutter and descended, drawing the frail support after him. ' CHAPTER XX. LAW AND JUSTICE. ‘ before he committed suicide. dint Idaresey I But he care-. Ifso, \ ‘ SOME weeks have elapsed since the events is, corded in the foregoing chapter. But they were not idle wepks‘ with those whom we have introduced to the reader. r ‘ It had become a settled conviction that poor old Thompson Floyd had committed suicide, in a “ moment of temporary insanity,” as the pa- pers have it. And. indeed, it looked so. The city had authorized the dragging of the. river near the dam, but this eventuated in no satisfactory result. Moreover, to do this en- tailed much labor and trouble, for it had been ' necessary to cut a drift through the already , thick ice. In addition to this, Clinton had of» fered large rewards for any information which might throw some light upon the old gentle- man’s untimely taking off. ,But all was .un- availing; the hat taken from the ice alone pointed to the solution of the mystery. _ At last funeral services were held crew—or: 7, rather in memory of—the deceased, and grad— ually the affair faded from public notice. In three weeks from that startling night of events, as boiore given, the mysterious occurrence was seldom referred to, and scarcely created 're- mark. ' - v 80 soon are the dead forgotten. 7 At the funeral sermon,'vvhich was given in the line Spruce street mansion, Algernon Floyd was present, calm and digu lied and hbnoring the occasion with a black band around hishat, ' ' and a piccolof crape about his arm. An‘other‘point we will note here: As soon as ‘ it was settled that Mr. Thompson Floyd was dead, his dark-brewed nephew had returned to the rich mansion, bringing his effects with him. To this, Clinton Craig, indignant though he was, could say nothing. He was not the mas~ .ter; but Algernon Floyd was the old man’s blood nephew—his only relative in the wide world! He, then, of all others, had a good right to make the mansion his home. So the law looked at the matter; and Algernon Floyd ‘ had duly consulted with legal talent. I Then the question of the will come to the surface; and soon afterward it was mysteriously hinted that the old man had left no will! This report speedily reached ‘ the ears 'of Clinton Craig. For a. while he'paid no attention to it; ‘ but again and again the rumor reached him, ' each time bringing with it something more of authority, something more than a vague shad» ow of truth; and there was more .reasonitbat ' r the young man should pause and lgok‘into the, matter. Clinton Craig had noted Algernon I Floyd’s presence at the mansion,- his quiet, in‘ ‘ ‘ dependent way, unopposed iglidin , . l ,, _ i ,, 3» into» ,,: ' ..,%:._ _ «' l5 , V , I, c :1 ° , . , ,, u' w: t‘ « _ .i_ s l‘ Nil. .n- .y Y I t a ‘ ; ,4 . P I _. I v ,4 . ' I m. ‘ -. ‘ A.) authority. Coupled with the rumors omen "1 " YWere coming daily, this latter circumstance ' made the young "man stop and think. And as, he thought he trembled. The reader can well understand why Clinton Craig trembled. The young man, on those oc- ‘ casions, was thinkingof Minerva. How would , ‘ she likeit, should Algernon, and not himself, succeed to old Thompson Floyd’s estate? _ And Clinton Craig well knew that if he in- herited nothing from his adopted father’s prop- erty, he would be a beggar! , This thought staggered him. I These same rumors, spreading everywhere that it could find an ear. in due time reached Minerva Clayton, the bank-president’s daugh- ter. When the maiden first heard it, she was making an elaborate evening toilet to receive Clinton Craig, whose arm, be it remarked, had now so much improved that he went out with- out inconvenience. The girl was standing before the elegant mirror, arranging her dark, heavy tresses, when Margaretta, her maid, ' entered the room. “ There is some strange news in the streets, Miss Minerva,” said the domestic. “Ah! yes; what is it!” asked Minerva, lan- guidly, as she lOOped up her hair, I ‘~‘ Why, they say, ma’am, ,that the rich old Mr. Floyd left no will; that Mr. Clinton Craig is out in the cold, and that Mr. Algernon, who I always thought the handsomest, with his fine black heard, is to get all the piles of money!” News indeed! The effect of it on Minerva Was startling. The blood streamed to her face: I then her 4 ' checks were ashen lined. She tottered back \ and sunk into a chair. “Yes, yes, Margaretta; that is news!” muttered, “But you can go now." The girl, with wonder showing on her face, ,‘ turned to go; but as she laid her hand on the bolt, Minerva said to her: -' 1 “One word, Margaretta; should Mr. Craig come here this evening, see to it that you ansWer the bell, and say ‘ynot at home,’ for, me!” .“Yes, ma’am," and- the girl left—~wonder- heart, for, ,but an hour before, she had been « to receive young Craig with her .blandest smiles, and to conduct him to the lit- tle private parlor to the rear. ; ‘ When the maid had gone, Minerva reared her head like a tlgress at bay, and glared fiercely around her. “Andie it to and thus?” she ejaculated, . hoarsely. “Must my ambitious striving thus fall short! Nay! I swear I’ll not be thwarted. Thompson Floyd’s money-added to inine~ye suds! » Where would it place me! And to think that but new I held it at my book and call. ~ Can this hideous report be true! Or is it only an ugly, distorted dream! Amuse you, Minerva 01m; and decide! Would you throw aside a dark-bearded, lordly-looking man with loaded 0039“: for 'a‘ fair-bearded ladies’ pet with . small hands and blue eyesl We’ll 880! 8?! we‘ll see!" ., Her voice sunk to an inaudible mutter. .For long, weary hours Minerva Clayton sat there, half robed in her splendid evening toilet. But as the moments and the hours flew by the gloom and chagrin settling on her brow passed ', away, and the smile of a dawning triumph - broke over her face. ' ‘ together. “Ye!” she murmured, griping her hands “I see my way. And it is well—- .very well!" \ ’ That evening when Clinton Craig, buoyant ,' 1 and happy, despite the vague fear of impending ii}. 2. , , e . ~92 {flies Cluyton~not at'home, sir.” ' trouble which was annoying him, ascended the “Steps of the princely Clayton mansion he rung the hell with a bold and confident hand. His summons was rather tardin answered by 't Margaretta Th? Ydullg man at once with a smile of reo- r Ogniuon to the girl walked into the vestibule, and was Labout entering the passage, when ' M-‘l‘1’8a1‘<$tlehalf-barred his way and said quite , portly; ‘ I‘V‘Hot at home; Margaretta?! asked the ‘ young man, in surprise,a vague fear stealing over his heart. . ' “Not at home, air,” was the reply. “You must be mistaken, Margaretta. I have a note from Miss Clayton bidding mo'to call this evening?’ r ' “ Of .that I know nothing, sir; but I am in- structed by the young lady to say ‘ not at- home’ to you,” and half-forcing, the young man from the vestibule,‘she closed the door. Aétounded and almost bereft of his senses, Clinton Craig staggered down the steps and reeled almost helplessly away in the dark,. scowling night. But a blacker night of woe and misery had settled over the young man’s soul, as, tottering along, he chanced to glance aloft at the lordly pile, and saw behind a gauzy curtain, in, a certain brilliantly-lit room, the queenly form of one whom he worshiped madly. We hasten. r This dim, uncertain report that old Thomp~ son Floyd had left no will came to the ears of another—of .Dr. Ashe. In him there was no surprise manifested; no starting—nothing but a stern, suspicious frown wrinkling his brow. a momentary clenching of his hands. When he heard the rumor he was seated in old Mr. Ray’s parlor chatting pleasantly in an old-fashioned familiar way with Alice. And when Alice had heard the report, which, should it prove true, would so change the for- tunes of one still dear to her, she clasped her hands and murmured: “Poor, poor Clinton!" Dr. Ashe glanced’quickly at her; but jealousy did not gleam in his eye; for there was none in his heart. While the same stem from: rested on his brow, he said: ' . “I thought as much, and mark me, Alice, the report, will prove true.” One more prominent character 0!! our story heard the report. This was Algernon Floyd. He was, sitting in his same old room in the mansion, reading an afternoon paper, when a coarse-looking man entered the apartment with- ‘out knocking. ing, perhaps, at the flckleness of woman’s , “ Ah, Algy!" he said, seating himself famile iarly. “ Strange news is abroad in the city!” But Algernon Floyd scarcely lifted his ,eyes tron: the paper, as he answered: 7 “ Iho‘pe it is good news, Join!” “ You can 'udge for yourself, Algy. ’tis said that 6 old man Floyd shuffled off this mortal coil unthout leaving a will I”. ,. . Algernon Floyd showed no surprise'what- , ‘ ' He simply ejaculated: , ‘,‘ Ah!” and arising from his chair strode, once or twice, up and down the room. Then he paused and said carefully: 7 “ This is very good news, Jem'. I dare say it is true. Ayl and, Jem, suppose we had found my poor uncle’s body under the cold» water, where would Clinton Craig have found the money to pay the large reward he'olferedl 31$ 33V}; Jam, we will see whatlawandjustice CHAPTER lXXI. omens AND sunshine. V “Ann this very day, Fred, the commission appointed to search the premises for the will meet heretobegin the work! 0h! Heaven, that such a cloud should so suddenly envelop me!” Up and down the room Clinton Craig strode nervously and excitedly. .3! Fred Ashe, calm and quiet, opened not his mouth. He gazed silently, sadly out of the window; but he was not indifferent to his friend," Who was suffering-such tortures of mind. The young man was thinking; so he preferred to say nothing. . ' “0h, Heaven, Fredlf’ again broke in the young man. She whom I so fondly lbved. She has ,heard of my altered fortunes, and, heartless, pitiless, has Steeled her-heart, and set her “face against me. = , ‘ . ‘-‘ And I tell-you, Clinton Craig,I thank God for it!” suddenlycxclaimed the doctor. a “I! this woman has,,i1ideed,2tllrnedghcr backer: ‘ o - tore her! Never, Clinton, or,.hy heavengilin. 3 be ashamed of you!" ' _ .‘ j . a ‘ P ’i “Fred! Fred! you almost cram ma. ' know not what love is!” l ' ~ ' ' ' Why,. , , der the impression that I, pretty exactly, un~‘ ‘ But what you do, take my “five and ' friend, in this matter. , You alone—4' young physician, earnestly. “She has turned against me! ‘ you—and. you know not positively that , , has—Itell you, my dear fellow,,th_at you have '- . I" ‘ made a lucky escape even at the loss of an mense fortune. Nay, let me speak, Clinton. I love you, my friend, and you know it. Mia . 1 ’I nerva Clayton is a deep woman, one of, many , wiles and schemes, one whose ambition to be v A wealthy is as unscrupulous as it is unbounded! She loved you, Clinton, for your expected moneys—as she would love me, or any one else — possessing enough of this world’s lore to at» I tract her. But, holdl—-I will speak! Minerva . Clayton’s love for you was engendered by old , Thompson Floyd’s piles of gold and silver—his , ‘ fl factories and his mills. Again: I say, Heaven ’ be praised it such indeed be the cues, that you. are rid of her! You are young, Clinton; you. V M are active and vigorous; you are proud. and self-reliant; and though unaccustomed to look. necessity in the face, yet I doubt me not but ' 3,, that you can easily carve a way for yourseltn' . And, Clinton. should the worst be realized, ; 1. why, though I am not over-blessed with world» ' «' “ 1y goods and chattels, yet what I have, ML 3-1" share with you.” ' , l r I," ‘ “ God bless you, my dear friend i” exclaimed, I .3,“ young Craig, seizing the physician’svhandsin‘ . his. His voice was husky With emotional! ' ' continued: I _ . ,' l s f‘ Bug-Fred, you inspire me withanoble am- bition. I will not be a burden on you Should) . a necessity come upon me, I will work?! I W . i. Xv“? carve my way, and prove to Minerva Clayton g that I am worthy ’of her!" ' . . ' i r k “ You are more than worthy of her! ~' le. . A. my advice, my dear boy, and let Clay. ~ 5:». ton pass from your mind.” ~" ‘, ’1 ' “Oh! Fred! I cannot yet! I ~cannot resign. , . : her withoutastruggle. I must see y; talk with-her; I must appeal to her and hear?! ~ from her own lips her rejection of me. Oh! Heaven! I cannot,‘will not believe it l” . , 9 “Appeal to her!” muttered Fred 1‘» most with 'a hiss. “Humiliate yourself be— ". Lae- lightning Donate seized his Why, thewrist, and glared, at him with a strange look. But he slowly relaxed his hold.“ he said, inalow voice, whilehqlauglmd .2; soft laugh: ‘ , "' I ’ j " . “ You know me not, my friend! I am one 51‘ derstand what love is; for- Well, let that. pats. You only heed my advice Minerva Clayton, and?” a V . , 5f “I cannot, Fred! I must seaherouoegsore. , ' Then, llshe, alas! says no! all-will he ever; 4. and filial God’i help I’ll bfelmysel! again? ' . counseyouno unheralng your, will, Clinton. Ididuot wish to: see has" 3 mutated. Perhaps, however, it you “ ‘ your own way in this aflalr it Will-behest. 7;. once." _ V . , .. “This very day, Fred! Stand by interrupted the For a long time the two young mensat , out speaking, each one communing with him-1 » self. A half-hour passed thus, when Dr. Ashe?" turned slowly toward his friend, and, inc. 1065’, I but distinct voice, said: " ~ ‘ ~,‘ “I have been thinking of this matter, Clix» ton, and I have come to the conclusion that-Ah ‘ gernon Floyd knows something about it; he; 113357,,kn0w something" about his uncle’s Gui-'1 c1 e. . A ' " V” “ What mean you, Fred!" asked the other“? quickly, the dark shade of a suddenly awake” ened suspicion passing like lightning over face. ' - ‘ ' “I mean simply what my words imply,” ' was the quiet reply. ' . R “ No; you do him wrong, Fred. Let justlco‘ be done'eVen to him, torhis testimony, voluuv ‘ teered before the alderman, released me. (tom? snugly, ' ,ent.” ‘ 1 p “Doubt me not, Clinton,” {v x... ., ,.- -\Vr\‘ ‘ . y.‘ . ‘ uh", 4' ‘ .. 'J. W." . . ,1 4, , . > _ , z , V y , _, I \ I. '.r,l, r .-,a,' ," {,1 a ,‘ ‘ xix I» .. I » r . ) ,. V -. the law, my h‘iend,’l said the young physician, calmly. '2“ That testimony was intended . A cover np'the. duel, to shield himself. Perhaps ‘ the fellow-had other motives, too.” ' - . :Fred Ashe looked grave. ‘ _ ' I . , "? Ishudder at'what your wordsimply, Fred. What Algernon Floyd knows of my adopted , father’s will—should he have left'onee—I can’t V .‘say; but I am sure he was never in the confi- udenoe of his uncle. He seldom had access to , papers I I, myself, was present a few days ago ‘ ' when the preliminary search was made; and, , what is more, since Algernon’s return to the mansion, a policeman has guarded the door to the library. Algernon Floyd Could not have V, . entered that room.” ,- ' . ; "There was a pause. The doctor looked perplexed. “As 'to Algernon’s knowing ought of the 7 .poor old man’s sudden death Lpannot believe; " for on the‘fat‘al afternoon when my father went ‘” away so mysteriously, never to return, I saw ff hastening. down Chestnut street. . And that at a late hour.” ,, ,Still the doctor mused. At length he looked up, i - , U .; “Yen/you are right, Clint,” he said. “Of j, ' fcourse that circumstance clears him. May Heaven forgive me for my suspicions against the renew! They Were dark enough i” ' ’Just, then a rap sounded on the door; and almost immediately the tall form of Algernon Floyd‘flung a. shadow into the room. He started; Slightly as he saw, Dr. Ashe, but quickly recovering himself, he bowed and said, stiflly: “The commission has arrived, Mr. Craig, ,andgas you are interested, your presence is re- questodat the search. If Dr. Ashe," he con- joinued, turn’ingto that gentleman, “will not :rconsider it too irksome, I would be pleased it its, likewise, would be present.” The physician bowed his acknowledgments, accompanied the others from the room. It: was dificult to suppose that Algernon .Floyd was interested .in the search which was i “ to take place; for his tone was almosticy fin wellness, and there was nothing whatsoever him“ to indicate the least excitement. ‘ ,Thelibruy Was reached and the search be- , Two policemen accompanied the four ,gentlefien‘who had been delegated to examine into'the matter. Every drawer was ransacked; Aeva package was overhauled. But no will, and not indicating one, was found. There y. one chancalonly one. probabili- ty or such is paper being brought'to light; and was in the search through the safe. But receptacle was locked, and there V unless a and-fruitless search for the key. , “Floyd quietly Suggested that the door This was tried; but it resulted un- ' ‘3 ' ’ At last itwusdetermined tosend term 4 is found; but more than two hours the expert succeeded in fitting a. ’ But at last the heavy door was opened, for the will resumed. " 7 hundreds of, papers and memo- ramda to be examined in the safe, and this con- ‘is’umed much time. - , ‘ the scorch was finished. The safe- waaClosed; and the members of the com-r without communicating to any one the result, the]: their leave. ' “ ’ - : ~. Enron Algernon Floyd’s face shone a bright thbugh transient gleam of satisfaction as he 1 need covertly toward young Craig. ' LAsthey were about leaving the room, the zetarkébrowed nephew looked up, casually, at his {seller’s portrait. He started. r x 5‘7‘.‘ How is this, Bax-ten?” he asked, turning to old servant who stood near. “Where is fthdcord—ahe silken cord—that was attached frame?” , ‘Ee' glanced steme at the old, man. ' ‘7“, Really, I. can’t' say,.sir,” replied Barton. ilthasabeen missing, for some weeks.” . I“Missingi Howl” , . ‘ i‘NVhyI it ought you had taken it away with Om ‘ if; excessively polite toaqprobsbly 0 r5 ,., to ‘..34the library where the old gentleman kept his pick the lock. After some de- ’ “I‘take'it awayh—and? leave the portrait! Nonsense, Bartonl- T Sea to it that a thorough search be made for that n cord. Valueless though it may be in itself, I tell you it is worth to me more than all the, wills'in existence!” So saying, he strode out. About four o’clock that afternoon, the com- mission, accompanied by a legal gentleman, re- turned to the mansion. They gathered silently in the library—Algernon Floyd and Clinton Craig duly presenting themselves. The lawyer glanced around and arose. ‘ After a slight pause, he said, with a glance at the two young men just named: ‘ “I am authorized, gentlemen, to report the result of the search for the will of Thompson ‘Floyd, deceased. , It is positively known, and has been verified, that the deceased, during his life-time stated that he intended willing his property for the most part to Clinton Craig. But, after a. diligent and exhaustive search, net only has no will been found to such an effect, but no will of whatsoever nature; and nothing indicating that one has been made. In view of this fact, in view, too, of the fact that Thomp- son Floyd has left only one living relative, it is not only natural, but absolutely legal, tint the property should and must descend to that rela- tive. That relative is Algernon Floyd; he is ,the lawful heir to the entire estate left by the deceased. Here is the safe-key,/ Mr. Floyd,” turning to the swarthy-faced nephew; “and allow me to congratulate you on .your good fortune.” ,4. A wild blaze of undisguised triumph glit- tered in Algernon Floyd’s eyes; but, in an in— stant be controlled his emotion and bending low to the commission he took the key. , Clinton Craig, crushed almost to the earth for a minute, slowly rallied, and bowing cour- teously to the decision, turned and left the - room. Once in his own chamber his feelings for a moment got the better of him, and a wild, angry storm raged in his. bosom. But the tempest Was momentary. He soon recov- ered himself. He wrote a brief note and sent it to Dr. Ashe, that gentleman having let“ the house without a word as soon as thei‘morning , . , . search was over. ' Then Clinton Craig wrote another and much longer letter, and taking his'hat left the house and posted the missive himself. About the same time that Clinton was thus engaged Algernon Floyd. was “similarly occu- pied. And he, too, deposited his letter, in the penny-post bag. - , That evening as Dr. Ashe, quiet, unobtru- sive and sympathizing, sat in Clinton Craig’s room, watching his friend pack up his personal effects, previous to a speedy removal, a‘ loud rap fell upon the door. ‘ In a momout more Algernon FIOyd stood in the room. A frown was on his brow as he bowed curtly. An :angry scowl swept over young Craig’s face; but checking himself he arose and bend-v ‘ing an inquiring' look upon his visitor waited for him to speak." “ Pardon, me, if I disturbyou for amoment,” said Floyd, coldly, his gaze resting unflinch- ingly upon Clinton Craig’s face. “ We are not warm friends, Mr. Craig, and have never been so. Perhaps, so far as I am- concorned, you can readily infer the reason. , part- Of course you knew that‘the claims you had upon my uncle do not extend to me. This mansion is now mine, and, as I'am privileged to select my own company, I scarcely think it more than necessary to' suggest to you the propriety of seeking accomnodations else- where.” ‘ , . The hot blood of anger burnt in Clinton Craig’s cheeks, and a stormy reply was upon his lips; but by a strong effort be kept his tem- per within bouuds as he replied, calmly and with dignity: ' “I shall not burden you‘lwith‘my presence, sir. I'leave this house within an hour. I ask your indulgence for that length of time. , For a moment a blush of shame mantled the swarthy face of Algernon Floyd; but it passed Mr. Algerncn,” said Barton, who , , away. ’ new He‘bowedand left the room without another'vesa.,»‘-' ‘ x ' item Warehousing“ when, clinics ’Tis best that we 1”” Craig, 'arm'in arm with his steadfast friend Dr.» Assamese from the Floyd mansion. A fur- niture wagon was standing before the door; it had already» been loaded with young Graig’s baggage. Then the young man turned this ' back on the house, ,which, for so many years, had been his happy home. I > As the friends neared the residenco of Dr. - Ashe, suddenly a fire-peel rung out on the air. Again and again they came, and every mo-' ment the pools rung louder. Toward the north-eastern section of \the city, the sky was aglow with a dull livid light. Higher rung the sounding bells, more ruddy grew the encrimsoned sky; and now the hoarse cries of heroic firemen, and the hollow rum~ bling of the engines, awoke the stillness of the air. “Where is the fire?” shouted Dr. 'Ashe to a fireman who was» hurrying by. ‘ “In the Richmond district—old Squire Ray’s- 1umber-yardl And it’s as good as gonel” This was the reply that came back. - “ Come! come, Clinton! We are needed there!” cried the doctor. “Come! jump into this carriage, and we’ll be 011. Poor, poor Alice!” , The two young men hailed the passing car- riage, sprung in, and were soon rattling away toward the fire. ’ —.—-,_ CHAPTER XXII. I , - PRIZE-MONEY. Bu'r Algernon Floyd, sitting late that night . in his uncle’s library, heeded not the clanging bells. With countless papers spread before‘_ him, here and there large bags, heavy and jingling forth a metallic sound, he sat at the table, pencil in hand, jotting down this item and that, calculating this interest bond and that. _ From the inside breast-pocket of his. coat‘ peeped the butt of a pistol; he felt it necessary to arm himself, to defend his newly-gained wealth. There he sat, counting, jotting, think. ing, dreaming wild, limitlem incomprehensible dreams, all the while. I ‘fAtlastl At last! I’ve won, Pvetriumphed!” he exclaimed, throwing himself back into his chair. “ Money, almost exhaustless, is Went to my check; men will worship me as a newly. rison god. Algernon Floyd’s name, even now, is sounding richly in every ear, a gorgeous career opens up before me! Ye godsl I sonic- times think, now, that I will go'mad with my triumph, my victory, my wealth! And bounty shall be mine! That beauty impersonation! in the form of—’? w ' ' I A low, gentle rep at the door startledhim. He cast a hasty glance at the clock,‘felt quickly for his pistol,xpushed the "money-bags be“!!! him, and said, aloud: _ “Come in I" ~ ‘ ' Immediately the door, was open’ ed, and a short, burly mgm enteredt i “ You here, Jeml What the (18%" i “There, there, Algy, don’t get into a perspi- ‘ ration. There is no occasion. Yes, it is I, . , your old Mend, Jem Walton. Come to con- ‘ granulate you, Algy,.my,boy, and suggest .to / you, faintly, now that you' can handle the og—ain’t it prog. Algy’l—why—I’d just, like to touch the spuds, the prize money, you know.” ' “ You are an internal impudent—” “Stop, Algy—stopl” said the men, sternly. “I did not come here to be abused, and I didn’t sneak in the house, either. I came in the front door, and though the hour is late, I asked to see you and was shown here. So don’t be! . ugly,” and the man, casting his slouch hat on the floor, seated himself, as it he was at] home. It was a terrible frown that wrinkled the dark, swarthy face of Algernon Floyd; and more than once his right hand moved toward ‘ ' the pistol; but J em Walton’s lynxeyes followed ‘ _ , his every motion... - - , _ _“ Come, home, Algy,” said the fellow, ‘with r, an attempt at soothing the other, “if I'd known you were so opposed to seeing me, I wouldhave » _ waited until tomorrow. But I thought, as we ' i i~w'.‘ v; /,, ., were'old Mensa why, you’d he glad to see I me,” and he laughed ssrdonieally. 7, v “Well, Jem ,, Walton, what do you want! 5; . ' Out with it, and quick, too!” Q . a} “Mom, Algernon Floyd! and I’ll have it, tool Is that answer near enough tothe point?” returned the man, promptly, with a look of 2? ' determination and defiance on his face. 1 I “You speak walk—boldly, I may say!” re- {" turned Floyd, trembling just the slightest; not with fear, but with anger. “I’ll not bandy words with you. How much money do you want?” “That’s good! How much 3' All I can getl But, hark you, Algy: your memory is getting bad: I’ll refresh it. For my little services, you know, and a quiet tongue, the agreement was that, as soon a; you could touch the pew- ter, I was to receive two thousand dollars down; one month from that time, two thou- sand dollars more, and then I was to make my- ‘self scarce in these parts. That’s the agree- ment. I’m posted, my friend, and I am here . ‘ ' ' to get my part of the prog. So shell‘out, for I - ‘ mustbe going.” He spoke almost authoritatively; he was certanily in earnest. It was only for a moment that Algernon Floyd heSitated. , ‘ ‘,‘I remember the bargain, Jam,” he said, a little softer, “and I’ll not fly from it. Here is a bag; it contains two thousand dollars. Count it for yourself, and then begone.” “No, you count it, Algy; I’ll look on,” said the man, keeping a suspicious gaze fixed on the ' , other, and not moving at all. ‘ “Very good, Jem Walton; but you are scary,” replied young Floyd, taking the bag. , “As you say, Algy; I’ll not contradict you. But please count the money, piece by piece.” The money was counted out. It made two thousand dollars, in large golden pieces. Re- placing them ,in the bag, Algernon Floyd shoved them toward the man. “ New, Jem Walton, give me the OATH—our meipt.” v The light, for an instant, was lowered. When itwas raised, Jem Walton, bag in hand, was backing out of the door. Then he turned and . ' hastened down—stairs, and out into the street. , , Scarcely hadhe gone ten steps, hetero a dark ’ gig-lire emerged from the gloom and joined x. “Ah! here you are, Jeni? I’ve waited for you, patiently. Have you got the progi” " Safe and sound, Moll.” ' - “ Then, remember, my hand» is on _ throng/and I’ll have half—” There was no reply to this, as the two, the . man and the woman, hurried away in the gray, thick darkness of the night. CHAPTER XXIII. ,. Y can rwo‘ Larraas. Tn next morning, languid, listless and yawnintg Minerva Claytcm cast her eyes over the, lore! columns olthe Ledger. The girl, de- spite the look of self-satisfaction and settled , mllmph a low evenings ago,,had not been 01191le at ease Since. The form of Algernon Flore. tall. elegant; dark-bearded, dignified and hawk-eyed, had haunted her mind. Had ' she not reckoned too rashly, too hastily, on winning him and his hundred thousands ,1 She knew that he was or a haughty, imperious - nature, stern and unbending in some matters. yet she likewise knew that a' year or so , the young man was ardently in love with her. ‘ISbe ’well recollecterl that .she, almost with scorn, had repelled the advances of this penni- less young man, and had told him quite plainly that no poverty~stricken youth could ever ‘expect to win the hand of Minerva Clayton, ‘ ,l the peerless. Despite this, however, there had » , n times when a faint? glow of admiration for tbeelegant form and handsome, swarthy face 0! AlSemen Floyd, the penniless, had flashed '1 ~ g ‘~ through her bosom. She knew his lion nature, , ‘ > his. superb Muteur; .and these traits, coupled ‘J‘Vifll personal attractions, had more than once made mama Clayton pause and think. Her, ‘ “‘0‘?th finch occasibns were these: Have ‘1 your l not money enough alréxadyi-will I ever re— .ceiv-e an offer, from such a fine—looking. well-' connected fellow again? But when Clinton Craig. came into the lists, she promptly an- swered the first of these questions in the negav tive, the second in the affirmative, and Alger- non Floyd had passed from her mind, it seemed, forever. v . But a new order of things had lately arisen, necessitating much reflection to see clearly the way ahead. ‘And much reflection, despite her somewhat, hasty decision of a few nights since, had Minerva Clayton, bold, beautiful, ame bitious woman that she was, given the subject. But the result of her cogitations was to confirm her previous decision; to win at all sacrifice the dark-bearded, handsome Algernon Floyd, the wealthy; to cast overboard, forever, the light—haired, equally-handsome Clinton Craig, the penniless. ,_ Yes, Minerva Clayton was languid and worn this morning; for in addition to her mental perturbation, the girl had been kept awake, nearly all night long, by the clanging fire-bells and the riotous rolling and rumbling of fire. engines. She cast her eyes down the local col- ~umns of the paper. Her gaze suddenly halted, as it tell on a short article captioned: “ DISA8~ muons FIRE—SAD ACCIDENT.” . As she read a line or so of the paragraph in question, she started slightly. Then a malicious smile of contentment broke over» her face. Holding the paper nearer to her, she read aloud, gloating, it seemed, with almost fiendish delight, over each word: “ Dishs'mocs man—em accmnx'r. “Last night, between nine and ten o’clock, the ex- tensive lumber-yard of John Ray, Esq., Was discov~ ered by a private watchman to be on fire. The alarm was instantly given and the firemen were gromptly on the spot. We are sorry to say, that espite every efiort, the entire lot of valnab e lum- ber was destroyed. Owing to the combustible na- ture of the material the flames spread with fearful celerity, utiing at defiance every effort to check them. e are called uglon to chronicle, in con~ nection with this fire. t e sad death of Mr. Ra , owner or the pi opert . ‘ It seems that he was early and aispot and' pe ormed wonders to save his properio'twhi‘gh 'was but partly ipsured. Forcing his way lirough burning piles of umber in order to assist in blowing up some of the hea s, ‘hopi thus tocheck the 5 read of the flames, 3 Way 0 retreatw sudden cut of! and he Eerished or- ribly in the fiery element, in view of who were unableto afford him succor. He was a true man, a good citizen; and an excellent neighbor. His - $31ng will always be green with those who knew " “Ha! ha!” laughed Minerva Clayton, show— »ing her beautiful . pearly teeth in glistening rows. “ How Providence has ordered all this! Reduced to poverty in a single twenty-four hours-wthrown upon their own resources. Clin— ton Craig and Alice Ray are aptly mated! ALet tlgem c’ultivate their budding loves, and, at last, t ey—- ’ - Suddenly the bell rung, and a moment or so afterward a servant-girl entered the breakfast- room where Minerva was sitting. She carried two letters. , “For you, Miss Minerva, both of them, and --city letter/s.” ' ' " Hand them here, Margaretta.” Taking the letters eagerly in her hands, the maidenaglanced over the superscriptiona~ Her, face fairly wreathed itself in Smiles, as she recognizad the handwriting on one envelope; but , startling ! ado te : the aw did it, and being just I did not say ing up the letter which was under the paper» weight, she glanced hurriedly over it. Laying ' it aside, she drew toward her pen and paper, 1 and commenced to write. She hastily scribbled ' anote and cast it aside. Then she wrote an- , _ other note—more properly a letter—with which ‘ r r she took much pains. ' ‘ She leaned back and the same joyous smile: ‘ i came again to her‘face. Reaching over, she. rung the bell. Margarette appeared in a mo.- ‘ meat. ' ' .. ’ 2* “Give these two notes to the boy and tell. him to deliver them in person. One goes to . the ofice of Doctor Ashe, the other to Mr. 1 Floyd on Spruce street. Tell him to hurry.” ’ The letters which Minerva Clayton received v that cold winter morning through the penny; post wereboth LOVE-letters. One read: I r ‘ I_ “My DARLING, Sm Mummy—'10:: cannot im- r—i agine how I long to see you, to press your warm loving hand, to whisper to you again how dear yod are to me, to hear you breathe my name and say , . your love is mine! And, darling, I can not tell, om . v of the almost horror ., of my soul, the other 6 st ~. ’ when, calling to see you at your request,l was in» , ‘ formed you were not at home; yet, ’darling,'.me- I thoglght that night, when my heart was so sorrcw- , stri en, that saw your beloved form at the . ._ window. Nevertheless, darling, I make every exe cuse for you. Doubtless the exciting circumstances occurring lately in which I am interested—or rather, have been involved—have acted detrimental on your system. Now,darling, a word orso more. , have known cu, I have always beed'candid, and " ., confldin , an I will be the same, now. When in prospe 3y I aspired to your love, so. intadversig, I 4, " ' ch to it. I know that your soul is not sordid, ‘ at. you ook beyond the baser dress to the pure gold of I asincere love. - - " ‘ ‘ 1 , “ Doubtless, by this time, you know full well the 7., events occurring at the mansion of my late”. " father. I hare bum entirely 0181':th riled:- nay' nor do I, in the least, murmur. f course it was a shock: to me, a terrible blow; for I had looked forward tour our approachin marriage with feelings which again not be describe Alas! that m cannot now be consummated, and I do not ask you to stand to your engnafement. But Minerva, ldo, ask you, trusto‘s- ugly, co dently, that you will still be mine, atsome. 5* future day, a day I cannot name; but it w when I am able to ofler On a home and ind ._ once, if not luxury. I you, darling, to lot 3813‘" see you to-morrow. I leave house now . roperty of Al ernon Floyd, tonight. Forazfew eye, I will be a the residence of my friend hector.» ' Ase,whereanotewillreachme.A_ "to‘ you, darling, by the leve you have professed, or and which know you‘bear toward me to. grant the ‘ an interview tomorrow, I am; as 010 , " l r ' “Your own devoted , H ~ , u mores. I, 4 . - <4 9 . t a... \ . come“ spend- a The other letter/read thus: I I , a. l “sts Cmvron—Iardona few plain,unvarnf " . words from one who can from nature deal in ’ ' other. You ma remember that two years'mrei struck by our uty of men and » your amia ty and gent eness of fought, a worshiper, to your teet. I , sincere and from an honest heart. 7 ever, 1 on umlsteni cars; you wen-deal , smut}. then. At that time,' did not press my because, though feeling myself, in everrres" . is. man, and a. gentleman, yet was penniless. , ' ' . have been resumption in me, had I thought 1 -» thought 0 your own boundless wealth your 1‘ station in socl . But Love was blind. Twoyears‘ have rolled by nee then, and by aturn in‘Fortane'a: wheel I am to-day a wealthy man. My heart is " still yours, and it. andall I PM} again lay.” hiuflmblyfiygt bolch, $15011}; feta.» It you argnotlin; ~~’ eren me, w , on gran me an interview, some time to-moxgrow. y . , - . “Very respectfully, , v ,. “Assessor Foam“ , This was the letter Minerva, had " her bosom. ’ Since we have transcribed these notes, wax-dag? it was slightly, only slightly, Wrinkled with a frown as she glanced at the other envelope, the \- plain, bold direction on which was equally well ; known to her. , , ’ 1 : “You can go,'Margarette. Have breakfast ; served in half an hour, at which time papa will be up and ready.” ‘ .i She turned silence to the letters, taking first 3 the one she had examined last. Slowly she); read it through, now and thenachanging sha‘de : Passing over her countenance. When through, E she laid it down,,open, and secured it with a T Paper-weight. . She took the other, and while a 3' glow of uncducealed joy sparkled on her cheek ; and shone out Iron; her eyes, she read it, Word by word. _‘ Again she read it, and again. Fold- ; mg, it, quietly, she placed if away in ' V I I herbosomj: and sat holding her! hands, while an. ecstatic 3- ,» *, 1'. h_ .' smile hovered around her metal). 6 at. Jaguar»- for word, for, the reader’s benefit, we give Minerva’s answer to each. That to here? old lover’s letter read curtly thus: '. * “Mn. CRAIG:——Yoursof este to ‘ .271 am. rather surprised at its colitents; titling ‘er 86;; the request, somewhat vaguely given, I only am j you can see me at home this evening after eight. ’ o’clock. - n y, . ,7 " ‘ _ I . “MINERVA Curran,” The girl’s answer to her new (yet old)l var; read thus: ‘ ‘ ‘ “Mr Dean Mn. van:—-—Yours of yesterday; breathing sentiments of . admiration for nae—nor» worthy object! has reached me. Believe me. In ' dear SIP, that your wards have awakenediin me old: time regrets, regrets which I would faiuvturn con solatiou. _ wound simply say that you neverfphav been ind: erent in my eyes. You are not new The inter?” .H mtg: is mgste (dignity. . ' . ‘ yr “silence , _ when, believe me, sir, lwili be attentively to whateveii'you may Wenonah to ’~ ,' x _, . - r , l l ' n 1,, 1 V '7 H .mm '1 oestrus: XXIV. , run, 'r’wo vrsfioas. ,; . Mmmw'A CLAYTON arrayed in all the splendor I. 1 and, fashion that wealth could afford, trembled slightly as she slowly descended‘the broad, ,vel- 'vet carpeted stairs, and took her way to the , parlor. Between her fingers she was tWirling I. :* perfumed card; but as she drew near the ‘ «r Jarlondoor she hastily thrust the card in her ' ket, and summoning all, her firmness forced a sweet, winning smile to her face and entered " . , the grand apartment as gorgeous as an Eastern 1 queen. ' . ' « , Algernon Floyd. elegantly arrayed, tall and “splendid, was striding up and down the parlor. ’ He turned quickly as he heard the soft foot- “ j fall behind him. I 'Schooled as he was .in the ,, ~ways of the world, the young man started at - the‘dazzling splendor of the maiden. , ' ,Minerva greeted him with a stately bow, at 7 7, the same time extending her hand, frankly and l ‘ cordially. 1 " 1 Bowing low over that soft white hand, Al— . ‘ .gernon Floyd murmured some - incoherent __ wordsg'but, then, with the. grace of a prince, > be led the maiden to a sofa and sat down he- .‘asiiio her. , ‘1' - The‘conversation which ensued we will not ’ “ W60. ,We will simply state that in an hour after the arrival of Algernon Floyd he was sup- porting,ron his broadcloth bosom, the mag- ' :nificent,~tressy head of Minerva Clayton; and 9, when he left the apartment, hat and gloves in he imprinted a kiss upon the girl‘s dewy . .,-,ilp'sfwhile he murmured in her ear: . ' “Farewell, dearest—but only, for a‘ time !’" 7“ - The day Wm away; evening came with its twilight and shadows, and a. black night set- tled down again over the Quaker City. ' bell had just sounded at the Clayton and ,a timid questioner, card in hand, stoodvirithOut on the windy steps. . - Margaretta had ansWered the summons, and - “the (locked rather superciliously upon the young "man whostood there in the cold. She paid no heedto the card, contenting herself by saying 'stifllyiu though she was mistress of the man- V l ' ’ e,- , ' “Miss Clayton expects you; she is in the parlor.” » ' . x ' i' V Young.0raig~lfor it washe~recoi1ed before ' the imperious demeanor of the girl, and a cold ' Chill crept space over his heart. 'But noticing Margaretta no further, be entered the hall, and, “battalions! and overcoat on.his arm, turned into the familiar parlor of old. . , «f; The {bank-president’s daughter, erect and ;_ and frigid no.3 marble Diana, stood in, of'the room, all glitter and mag- : glanceat her face and Clinton Craig violently; Nervous and fearing, he was s ,, ., . atoadvsnceand greet her: but she checked a single look. . » " , as if shot. a“! received your nota'Mr. Craig,” she began My, “and I have granted you I this inter- - «new. Be on brief, if you please, as is conven- ‘» Perhaps you can make, knewn your standing. . I have an engagement this evening.” ‘ i . words were spoken in the iciest, the , Etna hard, stern face of the speaker.- * " “ What! what in it, Minerva?” gasped the young man, in a choking breath. , g l ‘ 7, ,‘f’What is it? Format!” and you should known. Mr. Craig,” was the answer. ” “For heaven’s salte,Minerva, explain this hideous change to me! Speak to me, darling!’ he exclaimed, in an outburst of woe, as he drew coauthor. “ Tell me, darling one, why' you "can treat me? Oh! Minerva, I love you madly! I lore. the very air—” , . i _ ’ “flab! hold, mom; It is not proper in " such words as these. I can not listen to them: 1am ,' , to be. married I” j -- a’thunderbolthad crashed at his feet, while afagfui shudder shook his m f a of tones, "whilea half-sneer flitted over, WK ray: 'andtowhom, “To’Aligernon Floyd,” was the calm, freez- ing reply. ‘ ‘ > ' ' ‘, For a momentitumultuous torrents of blood flowed madly to Clinton Craig’s face; then his cheeks were cadaverous, in. hue. But then, gradually, the wonted tinge of robust health came again to hisface. I 4, _ Slowly he gathered uphis majestic hight, and, for a moment, gazing the treacherous womanfixedly in the face, he turned without further word or gesture, and left the house. ‘To her dying day Minerva Clayton forgot not that look. Oh! “fair and false Minerva! wish you peace and happiness! We not CHAPTER xxv. A LONG GAP” ‘ Two long yours have now elapsed since the incidents occurred as given in our last chapter. We can do no more than briefly refer to the many events which had happened in the mean- time. ' Two weeks from the time of her new engage- ment, Minerva Clayton was married, with hunch pomp and eclat, to Algernon Floyd, the young and handsome millionaire. It was a brilliant occasion; and, the monole who at- tended it did not stop to inquire into the an- tecedents of bride or groom. L . It is recorded 61' the event that it required three able-bodied clergymen to perform the nuptial rite; and when the ceremony was over, the bride and groom were overwhelmed with congratulations. But as they made their way outyof the packed edifice to the carriage which was to convey them to the New York depot, en route for Europe, neither of them noticed .a man clad in the everyday garments of a faco tory hand, who leaned against a lamp-post op- posite the church and watched the couple as they descended the brown stone steps. Yet, Fred Ashe, M. D. , who happened at that moment to stride independently and haughtily by, knew that man clad in coarse raiment. For whenihe saw him, he stepped hastily to him, and drawing his arm in his, sail sternly, but sympathizingly: “Come, Clinton, my boy. This is no sight for you. You are humiliating yourself!” A And the two friends hurried away. Algernon Floyd and his handsome wife were many long months in 'Europe. But, at last, they returned to Philadelphia, and took up their abode in the Floyd mansion, which, in the meantime, had' been sumptuously fitted up. And those who knewMinerva Clayton of old, fancied that they discovered a shade of sorrow, g with deep furrOWed lines, looking like disap- pointment marks, showing on her' face. Dr. Ashe certainly noticed these lines on the young wife’s brow when once he had met her face to face in the bustling, crowded Chestnut « street. But Minerva declined to recognize him; and Fred Ashe would not know the woman who, for money, had trampled in the dust the love of an honest man. , If, however, Minerva, indeed, had her sor- rows, she kept them .from the outside world. She was often seen with her fine-looking, dark- browed husband, on the streets or on the drives. With Algernon Floyd there were times when ominous, anxious frowns wrinkled his brow. Then it Was frequent “that hot, angry words fell from his lips. On such occasions, he was cross and snappish, even with his black-haired wife. - i ‘ ‘ ‘ And these occasions were always noticed as following the visits of a stout, square-built, rough-looking, man, who came quite often. And these strange visits be an just as soon as Floyd and his wife had returned from their foreign tour. Once, too, an old womamdeoent and well- clad, yet masculine and strong-minded in ap‘ ‘pearance, had asked and gained admittance to Algernon‘ Floyd’s presence. At first the rich , pram dad reco nice, bisvisitor and g ’ ' Mamyfromfherybuta sin- ‘ ‘1 strange visitor causodshini ‘7 ‘ *- , l a once to my: upto. mask, ina iow' breath,..a hasty word in her follow him to the library. Then again the old woman came. ‘ It was a raw, dark evening in the fall. Algernon Floyd was walking moodin up and down the limits ear, and bid her of the library—his favorite haunt—his dank face wrinkled in thought. “Am I in a snare?” he growled. “Do Jem Walton and old Moll hold secrets .of mine—— enough to embarrass me? Or, is it merely lit- j tie things of our‘riuer—l'ifej Bloody Mbll talks " we ——and a good . queerly. Jem, of course, deal. Do I know enough against the rascal to swing him? yes, by Jovel—and to swing that old she devil, too! . . .- A . .' . Is gold, after all, a blessing or a curse! Does it bring happiness and contentment? Ah! I once thought that it did: but there is some, thing here,” laying his hand upon his forehead, “ that answers emphatically N0! ' But gold—J’ Here the bell sounded clear and sharp. The rich man paused in his restless promenade, and a darker frown than ever passed over his face. He seemed to underistand the jingle of the. bell _ —to know the hand that pulled it. He glanced at the clock; it marked the hour . of nine. As a rap came upon his door he felt‘ ' hastily in his pocket. ‘ ~ “ An old lady—very anxious to see you, sir, ” said Barton, the serving-mamnow tully recon- ciled to\his new employer. ’ “Show her up, Barton, and—why, let the" servants go to bed. Also sendMargarette to Mrs. Floyd’s room, and tell her—my wife—— that I’ll remain up until a late hour. I wish to read.” ,V ’ v . Barton, with a bow, withdrew. Only a few moments elapsed before a loud, bold knock echosd upon the library door, and, without waiting, a. tall, brawny woman en- tdred. She closed the door behind her, and ' with her eyes fixed on the owner of the 'man- sion she stood still. ‘ Algernon Floyd glanced her and ejaculated: “ We!!!” K “ Ayi and well it"should be, my, pretty cap- tdin! you can depend on it!” was the sharp re~ P Y- ances—Mmds, I might say—Loryou’d ask me to take a seat.” * \ “Sit down, Moll; and—your business with" me? I am tired of your coming here!” “Tired, are you?” “Yes. The servants must think strange of you coming at such an unseasonable hour. My wife has noticed it, too. ’It annoys me.” ' , “Would not they and she think it much stranger if I should tell them a secret that I hold? ay! and hold safe, Captain Algyi” Algernon Floyd "started. “What secret of mine do you hold more damning than that Which I store up against you?" he demanded. , “Pshaw! maul you talk idly. 'I tell you, AJgernon Floyd, my hands, even new; clutch your throat. Do you not think that a word I {regains would fling hemp aroun‘ d your neck? Ba 1 . ‘ x . , The last» words she hissed in hisface. , ‘ ' Like lightning the man started up and flung himself upon her. ' In an instant a terrible though quiet struggle ‘ The woman was as strong and as ‘ ‘ had begun. active as a tiger, and her opponent gained no advantage over her. ’ glanced in the man’s. hand; its keen edge touched the woman’s throat. But before it could strike deep, the cold barrel of a pistolwas, " pressed to his temple, and the creaking of a a . trigger echoed on his ear. V “Hold, Algernon Floyd! or, by the heavens above us, you are a dead man!” hissed the ulna? ‘ zen, as she pushed her vantage—ground Slowly the man receded; he flung his knife upon the table. “There! therei' Moll!” he muttered, in a half-whining tone; “We’ll cometotorms: up your pistol and sit down.” ' “For once, captain, you are come to terms; but, low, I’ll dictate. those terms 1’! sternly, wickedly at But, all at once, a knife _ V .4... hark yummy. pretty-felt i- V ' “You don’t value your old acquaint- ' ‘ we" r . I w - room. . , ‘ Algernon Floyd and his singular visitor both turned; ,but they saw nothing. They saw . naught oi the white, scared face, the disheveled "tresses, the wild, starting eyes of Minerva, who fled away, sickened and terror-stricken, in the darkness of the room. The interview between Algernon ,Floyd and 01d Moll lasted more than two h'ours;and when, at last, the woman left, she carried away a bag ‘ , of gold, while, in her right hand, she clutched jig”, x... '- . ‘ . side. ,1 a roll of crisp notes. . Yes; Minerva, the rich man’s wife, had noted thepomings and goings of this old woman, and of the ' stout, square-built man. The young wife knew that there was a secret, terrible per- haps, which had been kept from her. She felt that this woman and this man held over her dark-bearded husband an unknown, but a fear— ful power. a We must hasten. . » ' Jem Walton and Bloody Moll often held long “midnight conferences together in the little house on the river. On several occasions a swarthy negro of gigantic stature was present at these conferences; and he answered to the "name of Black Ben. As the reader knows, Clinton Craig, in a single day, had been cast forth into the world, and thrown upon his own resources. He was penniless and almost friendless. Dr. Ashe was ,, ‘ _true to him; he loved him DOW—sympathized '_ with him more than ever” The young physi- cian had placed his purse at his friend’s dispo- ., ysal; but Clinton Craig did not touch it. At once the disinherited young man set about getting employment; he was determined to let no time pass idly on his hands. At first he was disheartened; still he looked for Work. And at length, Clinton Craig, lately heir- . expectant to a princely fortune, was engaged as a common workman in a cotton mill at the ‘Falls; and his munificent wages amounted to I ‘ six dollars per week. Yet that pittance made him happy, for it gave him independence. One day in passing through an apartment in the thundering factory, Clinton paused as if struck by lightning. He started back and. gasped for breath. ‘ ‘ ‘ Seated before a buzzing loom, her thin, white ' face bending over the flying shuttle, was Alice Bay. In a moment the young man was by her He reached down "and took her small, ' attenuated hand'in his. He clasped that baud in his own sturdy palm now hardened and browned by honest toil. ~ The girl gave one startled glance at him, and, thaltespringing to her feet with a wild, almost .unmean'mg love-light in her eyes, she murmured ‘ Just loud enough for him to bear it: I ,an orphan, but almost . Alice Bay, the lumberman’s daughter, into the a many, which time, _ V 7 “Heaven be praised! Clinton, dear Clinton! flotsam» againl I know all!” , “Gilgtnmewztfirgain that bustling, busy mill , _. ’c e th u' ' under their eyes. nt’ on; It ocean“ fight v And want, too—tor she was now, not only penniless—had forced mills. x .And Providence had orderea this singular reunion between Alice Ray and Clinton Craig. It is needless for us to trace further their, inst. circumstance and God forced upon them. . ll-Tl'me' sped on. Day by day young Craig grew invthe favor of his employers. At last he Wasfelevated to the lucrative po'sition of book- keeper. The young man now ordered a light boat” In this he, rowed himself and Alice ‘ down to the city; for they lived near Fair. . mount in an humble but neat boarding~house‘, I together.‘ Some oftho must blisatul moments _ . ‘3? Clinton Craig’s life were spent as he pulled - €015 light-3km glibly over the glassy Schuylkill and ironwork. Dr. Ashe knew Io! all this; he knew; $00: _, that. at the time We‘tie our broken th 9,, read: . {mementos unarmed “Clint.” . ' ,.. » :_ _ . Just then there was a ought? tasted: the , bolt of the door opening into the front sitting- )7 bent mildly to the . He reversed his sea ously. 3 - , M . \y Y CHAPTER XXVL, .‘ - SHADOWS 0N THE'scaUYLKILL. THE mellow moonlight of an autumn night glimmered down on the sleeping river, shower- ing’its silver radiance gloriously over the rip- pling waters, shimmering sadly through the leafless trees on the bank, while here and there in the dim, gray light, pale, spectral marbles marked Laurel Hill, the silent city of the dead. The air was balmy, though crispy, for the sered leaves had fallen, and frosts had whitened the earth. . _ . Gently glided the light boat over the placid surface of the river leaving scarcely a ripple behind it. With long, slow strokes the man who had the oars drove the boat onward. It scarcer required an effort; for the current was with him, and the wind in his face, light and fitful. In the stern-sheets of the small craft sat a maiden—her shoulders wrapped in a warm shawl. . I And between him who lazily rowed the boat and her who sat watching him with earnest, loving eyes, a sweetheart-talk was canied on. All was quiet. . On this particular. night no noisy crews made the air discordant with shout and song; and the coquettish breeze alone toyed with the honeyed words that were flung to it by the loving two who sailed the waters un- der the autumn moonlight. The reader knows who were the occupants of that light skiff that glided so gently down the stream toward the noisy, bustling city in the distance. " , Clinton Craig was homeward bound; and Alice Ray, aswas her custom, was with him. His and her work were over for the day. ‘ Quietly, yet swiftly, the boat dropped down. Laurel Hill was now, some distance behind them; the ice—houses on the. shore, dim and un- seeme in the gray gloom of the autumn night, were reached; and there ahead of them stretched the shadowy outline of Girard avenue bridge. As they neared this lofty structure Cinton :Craig edged the boat OR to the middle of the river. , t “ Where. are you going, Clinton?” asked the girl in a low, sweet voice, as she looked up in some surprise. » . “Through the second arch, where there are no rocks, darling," was 'the answer. “The river is so low that there is danger near the shore.” . ‘ ‘ ' He continued to urge the boat toward the middle of the stream. , , “No, no, Clinton; please go the old way,” said Alice, half-appealingly; “it is more like our custom; and, darling, I_ love to.hear the waters roar and splash against the rocks. I’ll sit in the bow, darling, and warn ,you of the rocks, as I have done many a dark night.” “ As you will, Alice,” replied the young man, cheerfully, as be checked. the boat, and bya few dextrous strokes pointed the bow toward the shore.~ “ Give me your hand, darling. SO. Now sit down and keep abright lookout,” he continued, as stepped nimbly by him and seated herself in the head of the skim: ' They were now rapidly nearing the bridge; the boat was, every moment, tooling the stronger current rushing between the near shore and the massive granite buttress It shot away likea great winged bird. A mo- ment passed. and amid the roar and rush o! the waters they glidedheneath the dark, over- hanging bridge. _ ' i Suddenly, however, the boat yawed, and swung, violently, half-bows around. = “ Heighol on a rock, Alice?” queried the young man, glancing behind him. . “ No, darling; I graspedat a rosefloating on the water; but, alas! I missed it. Back water, Clinton; tor that rose—as it has played me a trick—I shall have i” and the girl laughed mer- rily. , “Pull, Clinton: I’ve lost the rose; pull hard; ybulve‘bee‘n lazy enough!” ~ . The oung manhughed in response, and and. ,9» it coming . gays. way 1‘: c. bent downand without any hesitation and held it up in the bright * I waters at a. swinging strobe. _ :mg':m*h§-hoplng avalanches down p a]? the girl, hurriedly; at the shine" time she -., adroitly cast the light anchor over the bows, 3 ' and brought the boat toa standstill. ' ~ I . , ’l r The young man leaped to his feet and‘we'ut forward. * y :1 Alice was bending low over the gunwal her I U , white hand clutching nervously. what seemed. ‘f‘; to bee. cord or sash. Mistaking its shape and dull red, faded hue for a rose, she had cough the tassel in her hand. , ' v~ _ “I have not got the rose, Clinton," she said ’ in a low breath; “but I have Caught some; thing. Take hold, Clinton, and relieve me. ' There is something at the end of this line. Therel now, pull, Clintoan , ' CHAPTER XXVII. ‘ ran an.an con». . , As Clinton Craig leaned over and grasped ‘ g the cord in his strong hands, a. strange, uuao-I -. countable thrill passed through him. He shook like a leaf, as a wild shudder shot over his, frame. Bracing his feet against the-sideso‘f his stanch little boat, he put forth his strength and commenced to haul in, hand over hand; a‘. slowly, yet steadily, the heavy something at- * tached to the end or the cord; and then, at last, good heavens! a wild, piercing cry from if Alice Bay, a halt-cry of alarm from Clinton ' Craig, broke on the air. 'Slowly, above the; surface of the water, in the little patch of moon— ,, light that struggled through the bridge, the; body of a man, the face hideous. and ; away, the bare skull, the clothes banging about _. ' the skeleton form in shreds and tatteraappeaf ed terrible and ghastly. . r r ‘ » ‘ V ‘ ' Alice Bay had swooned with'very terror” and was lying in thestern-sheets of the boat, , V sobbing and moaning; but ClintOn Craig Slowly j? drew the dead form to him, and taking ,, extra turn around the rattling skeleton lifted ‘ it into the boat. As with feelings of -loathing- , and disgust be deposited it on the bottom of " g the little skiff, a huge bag. evidently g ‘ with weights, broke loose, tell with asplash and a - sunk out of sight in the waters. . j" _ , f , Slowly, Clinton Craig lifted his little anchor .. from its muddy bad, Then, his boat, the current, floated swiftly out into the broad, n t glare of the moonlight. He guided it "j ‘ leaning down over the decayed, ‘mutilatcd corpse, gazed fixedly at it. suddenly he stooped ‘ lower; a sudden sight had caught hiseye. HO I it. Furioust he tugged at it. ' I g, It was a dirk-knife imbedded firmlyvfi vertebrae! theneck. _ a; At length, by a mighty efi‘ort,~he Witt _ ». [a I: . I ,. m5 . With can lend cry of mutation, £4!“ Craig staggered back to Alice and l I ‘ “God be thade Godbethlmkedl The mean > deter and the murderedarefqlmd: l, is my poor adopted father; and that dirkwh ‘ ', 1 property of Algernon Floyd. Bad the name engraved on thiBrjeWeled g ihAlicaW . ' ~ ‘ ' The girl, trembling with excitement, timing! V has gale on the rusted blade and read ‘ “KADjKOOLY Fmrpv—U. :8. N.” » 3:9 ' “ Come, ice—come! esleepncttoauigj‘ Ml, Justice. is at last here! I tremble at the God be thanked, for He has given no ; deuce! come, the oficers of justice 7- prisedotthis. Steady, Alioel beaot i ,' forheisdead-ayI dead twoyeanand ‘ ,1, 2, Speaking theee'words, hebent to the: can; and with the unnatural, horrible freightaboard; Clinton Craig drove his light akifl CHAPTER XXVIII. mrmrnawarnnsrorm.“ ,1, ’ * ‘* THE old gentleman nervously“ ' his seat in the boat. ' j K “ You must now well, my men,” he said,” u be cast an uneasy glance toward the mi, r- sky in the west and felt the raw wind Tswilop-f “You must commanded here‘s a dollar-extra.» ‘ [must reach the bridge as I . "x ’ 247. “‘x v. ; ' ,' -, . J - r ,I \ -. »\\,-a.' ‘, '- A ' .. i w , ‘FA‘1R"WOMEN..,' -..... A, -1.--h;nntf:;..,:,_..., V , :1 t V . p This wind is too‘much forms, and the river is freezing.” r ‘ _ .. “Never you fear, sir,”said the‘short, squares built man who pulled the stroke. car, at the same time seating himself-—“ we’ll take you to the bridge in a jiffy; and thank ye, sir, for the extra pewter.” ' , The other rough-looking fellow, who was "pulling the “ bow,” opened not his mouth, but l , kept his. gaze fixed on the bottom of the boat. 1 The iman having the “Stroke ” reached out a ’boat-hook and shoved the boat, stern-off. ‘ Then, simultaneously, two pairs of cars tell, the boat’s head was turned tip-stream, and, in amomeut, the light skiff v as almost jumping out of the water under the long, heavy strokes. ' It was new some time after sunset and the shafies of night ware settling fast. When the ,‘boat was well out in the (stream it felt the down-setting current more,‘hnd, half-frozen as ’ ,the waters were, it made slow progress. On they, Want, the trokes becoming longer and mgre; labored, and still the bridge was not reached. Darker and darker it grew. At last, ‘the bridge came in sight. It was so dark, that ohjectson shore and on the water were invisi. I . bid; The man in the bow coughed. ' t“ You had better go to the bow, sir; she’ll run better,"said the man pulling the stroke~ The 'old gentleman, who satshivering in the ' stern-sheetsfiarose at once and steppedforward. I sprung on the old man. He was about to seat himself when, softly, sud- denly, behind him, the (tall man, pulling the bowwar, arose, and turning like lightning, ’ In an instant, his left hand (had grasped the feeble throat; in another, “ his right had drawn from ,his pocket a long (tenth/netted with a running hitch; in another instant he had slipped the noose over the old i : mpn’s head, then around his neck, and hurling ' him, brutally, to the bottom of the boat, hauled ' an» the cord with both hands. There was a spasmodic gurgling, a terrible heaving of the chest, and a writhing of that attenuated old ' \ dorm. ."9' . I Still, the tall, mamhis feet on the other's haunt, tugged at the straining cord. “Now,” he whispered, coarsely, to the dying I Hyman ethic feet, “now, my respected relative, you-haqh‘ow valuable to me is this old silk sash, how noblyrnow this queer old dirk knife me a turn,” and with his right hand he "1 a dagger, and raising it on high, hedrove v , it, with a vicious, vengeful force, down deep ms the old man’s nook. Qnotorrible shudder, and the body lay still. “Kelby heavens! that was a good thrust, ‘ ‘ Jam: But I have jammedthe old knife between the bones and can'tth it out. It matters not, “his welcome toit!” . - {‘Whist! Algy! whistl I hear oars! Quick! . feet, and overboard with him! 'Algyl——so~and it’s all right!" he said, “ «them! man did as: directed, and have the body overboard into the dark waters. . “Pity we hadn’t searched his pockets! but come, «Iain, give way! give way! You have work. tonight yet, and I, tomorrow. But ' what is done,is well done!” ' “,le well; Algy.” Thieves the beat. that was follomsd ashore ' old Moll one particular night, the scenes of, which have been fully described before; it was old Thompson Floyd who. slept that night, by ‘ ._.’treachery, theiast long sleep beneath the wa- ' tor! of the freezing Schuylkill; it was Jam Wal- , , ho pulled the “stroke,” and Algernon Floyd‘the “ bow,” in the little boat that night; / it was Algernon Floyd who murdered, in cold blood, his own uncle, and it was he who fired 1? the‘vengefulshot at old Moll, though he knew V 3 5 ngt‘l'who'it was. He had a secret already, and Wanted it well kept. , , CHAPTER xxrx. ,. I. :, 81681313., shone upon a smgular-looldnggrcup col- “ ' barge-house, ’ w lighted with a donen, . .candlsahanghig. from the joists above. - The l Crouchingnear the door, her‘ face buried in7 i rubber.” Then came‘xthe twine again. This” i her hands, her frame shivering with. terror, J l . ' was Alice Ray. . ! Clinton Craig stood by her, his face stern, ? yet exultant, his eyes burning with a singular , yet hopeful luster. , and spoke words of comfort and cheer to the maiden, while he gently laid his hand upon ‘ the uncovered head of golden tresses. Stretched upon a board in the center of the ‘ room was the hideous object—the dead body of the long-missing Thompson Floyd—fished from the waters by Clinton Craig. Already the coroner was there, with a. has- tily-collected jury. They were all clustered around the repulsive object, gloomy and silent. Near by, stern and collected, stood the coro- ner’s physician, Dr. Fred Ashe—his arms across his chest, his eyes glancing occasionally at the skeleton remains on the board, and then at Clinton Craig. “Our duty is plain, gentlemen,” at length said the coroner. “ Dr. Ashe, state your opin- ion as to the manner of death of this man—- Thompson Floyd, beyond ’ a. doubt—-—judging from what we have thus strangely learned.” “But a few words are necessary, sir; and, gentlemen,” answered the doctor, “my opinion is that this man—Thompson Floyd—was: first strangled with this sash until life was nearly extinct. But the knife, pulled from the bone by Mr. Craig, completed the murderous work. That knife was driven by a strong and steady hand, and judging from its' position when found, the blade must have severed the exter- nal jugular vein and carotid artery at a blow. Death was, of course, then, almost instantane- ous; and the man was dead before he was flung into the water." ' . In a few moments the jury rendered a ver- dict ih accordance with the facts. “ We will now proceed to search the body,” said the coroner, at the same time appointing av; of the jury to perform the disagreeable s . These gentlemen at, once set to work. The overcoat pockets contained nothing but a pair of buckskin gloves and a handkerchief. Next the inside coat was searched. In the breast- pocket of this garment was found a short re- volving pistol. The coroner - examined it closely. . ' Eva-y chamber was loaded. As this was announced, Dr. Ashe glanced significantly at Clinton Craig, who still stood nmr Alice Ray, speaking low, soothing words in her ear. , Though the woundiin the young man’s arm had long been well—in fact forgotten—yet he understood that look; and as a strange, ghastly smile swept, over his face, he tele- graphed back an answer. The other pockets of the coat contained nothing else of special value. In the vest pock- ets was found a roll of notes, water-sogged and valueless. The heavy watch. was also found lying in its wanted pocket—the massive guard- ho fish the rotten pantaloons were searched. no pocket contained a key. Iowa at once dgnized asthat fitting the iron safe in the loyd mansion. The other pocket contained a large old-fashioned leather purse, wet through and almost dropping to pieces. The search was ended. The coroner took the old pocket-book, and pressing the water from it, carefully spread out the flaps. A few silver coins, and a decayed these, a small compact package, about two inches square, was taken out. This was a sin- guitar-looking parcel; it was wrapped in every v direction with twine which still retained its strength. wrap the package. , V v Every one—even Clinton Craig and Alice— drew near and gazed breathlesslyjon. , The first Wrapper was. of stout parchment. It hadentirely resisted the action of the water. Was removed. It wasfof . l‘ " 32/ 5:,” ' ' ‘ 1‘ x .. / . ma " ' , . u a v, / chain being hooked into the shreddy button- bank—note or so, were found. In addition to l a New and then he stooped l l cut and another layer of parchment, and another at rubber were taken off. And so on until nine wrappers were laid on the table. At last all were removed, and two separate papers, folded into squares, and as hard almost as ivory, rolled out. They were perfectly dry. ‘ With alook of intense wander on his face, H i the coroner opened the little square packages, 5 and laid them before him. A pin might have The coroner out the cords, and began to un-l A been heard to fall in that little assemblage, as the gentleman gazed with awe and surprise at the outspread sheets. a The rippling waters of the Schuylkill. hur- rying along outside, and splashing against the: little wharf of the barge-house, sounded low and musically clear within. “Good heavens!” exclaimed the coroner, in a. low, hushed, half—terrified, breath. “The mystery is solved at last! and chance or Prov- idence has brought a terrible murder to light; and that same mysterious Providence has un» vailed the murderer. ' Mr. Craig, I hold here, two papers, One directed to you, the other in: which you are interested.” ’ Dr. Ashe, collected as he was, stern as he was, trembled with excitement, and strode up by the coroner. And Alice Bay had arisen. to her feet, and with her hand on the shoulder- of the roughly-clad man whom she leved, leaned over and looked on. “Here is the paper for you, Mr. Craig, or Floyd. as you should properly be called.” , “ Mercifulheavensl what is this?” exclaimed Clinton Craig, as he clutched in his nervous . hand the open sheet. One glance at the superscription, and with a wild cry the young man staggered backward. ‘ He would have fallen but for the strong arm’ of Fred Ashe, who grasped him. The paper flattered from his grasp; but the young physi- cian caught it with his left hand. . And then, amid a terrible silence, he read the following lines: - \. “To. MY WELL-BELOVED - son, , CLINTON Cane FLOYD. more. . r g T. F.” ‘ Then the doctor carefully folded the sheet, so closelyswritten over, and pushed it into the» pocket of his friend. ' “Amuse yourself! for the dead has spoken!" whispered the doctor, in his friend’s ear. ’ Slowly Clinton Craig—such we shall con- tinue to call himwrecovered himself; slowly he straightened up, and crossing his hands upon his chest, stood erect. “ Alice Ray clung to him, tearful! blue eyes lifted half-timidly to his stern face: “ Mr. ‘Craig, I held in my hands a paper, which, as I said a moment ago, concerns you, almost vitally. Be Quiet, gentlemen: I will read the document, which is as valid tc-day as when it was written, and which has been so miraculously preserved that its requirements ’ may still be‘carried out. Listen.” ' | As he spoke, the coroner’s voice trembled, despite his efforts. Pausing for a moment and. clearing‘ his throat, he read in a clear, distinct voice: ‘_‘ In the name of God, amen! I Thompson Flay being of sound mind and in fair bodily and grdaiu the following, as my last will and tester 8! my weIll-belovttlald brother Kimeg Flo 32w eceased, give esumo one ousan rs per annum, durin his natural life. Should he marry, it is m win that the sum above mentioned be doubled, t e same to descend to ,his children. should he be blessed with issue, after blades/ch. “Item 2d. To the Corporation of the Fairmount Park Association, Philadelphia, I give and bequeath the sum of ten thousand dollars,‘ to he used as may _ ' seem best to the said corporation. f‘Item 3d. The remainder of my estate, both real and personal, I give and bequeath to my dear, well-beloved and natural son, Clinton Craifilsli'llnoy/ifiE e to be possessed and enjoyed by him and forever. . “D0u%%is tenth day of June, 185g, ed ' , ‘ ceases, “Amer ABHMEAD. Taming; Flown. ~ “Bronson Pursues: . [3351]" ~ T \ . CHAPTER m ‘ ., harmonics. ' , , Tnk'r‘same autumn; night. .on. Which $115; . g i y," her soft . men . i . . “Item let; To my nephew, Algernon Floyd, son ' Tobereadwhenlamno‘f health, mag; Ii :27. s”. .7. , * seems incurs-st. as them upon airway "‘ ,. rzcsfininable remainsfot old ThompsonFloyd, a 8 pass of men stood silent and quiet before the splendid SpruCe street mansion. ' It was nearly eleven o’clock; but the lights sun burned firmly in the hall. After a moment of hesitation and conference, ,Dr. Ashea—for he was in that group—turned to the ofiicers" who wore with him and said in“ a guarded tone. , “,He is in! I saw him behind the curtains of the library. I would know even his shadow among a. thousand. Surround the house see well as you can; I will enter and’confront the villain.” . p " - “He is a daring, desperate man, doctor,” suggested a 'tall, biawny policeman. “Per- haps one of us had better accompany you.” ‘ “No; thanks. I wish everything tovbe done quietly. .We must be as humane as possible ior his wife’s sake, who, after all, is a woman. I will go alone; it he resists I am prepared." , ’ He drew on the bell-pull at once. The ofii‘ cers sunk back out of ‘ sight in the gloomy , , shadows. ' ' ,v The summons was not answered. -Again the physician rung. Only a moment elapsed, when half-timid, hesitating foobteps sounded within the lighted ' hall. w The bolt was turned and the door partly. and cautiously opened. In an instant Dr. Ashe placed his shoulder against the panel, and k“ _ shoving the door wide open, entered the hall. Minerva, the wife, half on dishabille, a small night—lamp in her hand, her face white and seary, her long black hair streaming over her ' snowy nightdress, crouched like a frightened -: 'f hare behind the door. She recoiled, and trembledjo violently that ‘I'1 ’ the lamp came near falling from her hand. v. I“. F .. ,H‘ , tremolous whisper. “ You he're!” she exclaimed, in a husky, “And what would you, ' Dr. Ashe?” . _ “ I would see your husband, madam; I have ’ business withhim,” answered the doctor, calm- I ly, though‘atfirst he had been startled by the sudden sight of Minerva. I. “What would youhave of him, Dr. Ashe?” and ‘she clutched him appealingly by the sleeve. "f Speak! for Heaven’s sake, tell me the truth i” " " Seek your’chamber, Mrs. Floyd,” retmned ’l ' the physician, in a warmer, more sympathiaing . tone. “You must, for your own peace of mind, for youriown honor, endeavor to forget Alger- . nonFloyd.” _, , r . “Oh! 'what is’this? Heaven stand bysime!” ' fl'moaned the ,poor woman, as Dr. Ashehastily ,r l ascended the Stairs and boldly on/ the library door. 5 He waited for no voice bidding him: enter, but turned the bolt and entered the . Algernon Floyd, halt dozing, was sitting by tbe‘mble, leaning his brow upon his hand. He ‘ "started to his feet as the rap fell upon his ear, amiDr. Ashe strode into the room. In an in; slant he wasger'ecte-hishand in his bosom. ' . “ Ea! FredAshel you are rather {unceremo- niousl”. he ejaculated, threateningly. Y “What H brings you here tonight?” i the’name of an outraged ' I the foul, coWardly murder of your own uncle . bask! leave this house, or——” “The determination to see justice done in . Phfladelpbia,” was the reply. ., - .. “What-do you meanl’f and Fred’s face grew ' ashen pale- : “Just what I say. sin” * ‘ “Out with it! What do~” ' lgernon Floyd, in ommonwealth, for “ I mean to arrest ‘70“; ~Thompson Floyd!” hissed the doctor. “Back! back, man! You are crazy! Stand “Back! No! Do you know these articles; 310W Prozm'tlF-Algernon Floyd?” suddenly ~m. uterrupted the physician, as he unrolled a Small bundle which he had carried beneath his 001.10. He cast on the table a wet, frayed, faded cord once of red silk, and liar make. : v v ‘ Within wild cry of horror Algernon Floyd reeled back.‘ But some taco grew almost black With, the frenzied expression at desperation, be fixed, snatched a pistol from his pocket and m, ' gravel ‘ - fainting, dying man! a united dagger of pecus I _ Mbfidgav’v . . breaking grief, broke, on the air, and a“ heavy fall echoed in the outside passageway. 7 ,. ‘ Dr. Ashe, unharmed and untouched, quickly turned. He gasped for breath as he‘be‘held‘ Minerva Clayton, prostrate on the flour, a pur- ple tide welling from her bosom, the rich red blood staining the snowy night—dress. _ In an instant the physician was by the side of the fallen woman. , l , At that moment the front door was! crashed in, and a half-dozen policemen rushed into the mansion. . - Algernon Floyd saw his position, saw his doom. . Without a. moment of hesitation, he turned like lightning, and sprung through the rear window—glass, sash and all giving way. “ After him, men! quick!” shouted Dr. Ashe. ‘f Behind the house! Secure him dead or alive 1” . , The oflicers darted out. But the game had (escaped; Algernon Floyd was not to be seen, high or low. , I Fred. Ashe felt the flickering pulse of the, wounded woman, and endeavored to stench the crimson current pouring from the bosom; but his eflorts were in vain. The bullet had plowed through the very chambers of the heart; and Minerva Clayton, speaking no word, giving no sign at parting, “slept the sleep that knows no waking.” ’ ‘ ‘ She was dead. . ' . ' “ ’Tis better thus! ay! far better thus!” mur- mured the physician, a tear, unbidden, dimming his eyes, as he gently,- tenderly, composod the stiffening limbs,= “ There is oblivion in the Beautiful, misguided, erring Minerva! may Heaven shrive thee of thy sins and short. comings!” I And the brawny armed ofllcers who grouped silently around muttered: ' “ Amen!” , AlgernOn Floyd had indeed escaped immedi- ate danger. He glanced not once behind him as he fled on through the almost deserted streets, and lenesomelanes, toward the Schuyl- kill. He soon reached 'Fairmount. Skirting the northern border of the resorvoir hill, he hurried onward. At last he paused by Girard avenue bridge and peered around the jutting rock at Moll’s old house on the bank. He started, as he noticed a. bright. light streaming iii-om the windows “HahFate itself is against me!” he gasped. “I eltewhere. God pity; me! for! unmanned; , ’ , L , Waiting , he‘turned up the. steep embankment leading to the abutment of the bridge. At last, almost exhausted, he reached the top and stood upon the bridge. He noticed not a dark, hereulean' figure which had followed closely behind him, all the way from the reservoir. . ‘ Floyd hesitated. not a. moment, but passing through the gate, hurried. along the bridge to— ward the western shore. He had not taken a dozen steps before, suddenly, the dark figure still hanging behind him, dotted upon him. A fierce struggle ensued; but Algernon Floyd was already exhausted; he was now no match for his gigantic antagonist. Slowly he was borne back over the railhwhich guarded the sides of the bridges His (09’: hand was grasp-r ing his throat; his lungs were/almost bursting with struggling air. ' “ Aha! now I‘se got you, Mars Capen Algy!” growled: the assailer. “We’s met at las’ and I’ golly! ’tis for de las’ time! Ya! ya! don’t twist, for I’se got you»! You is a—chokin’, "is you? Ya! ya! dat’s right! Dat’s for poor, Becky, de poor gal, dat you killed for nothing, you whitedivered piece 0’ trash! Take dat! an’ dot!" he continued, ~furiously, drawing a .heavy knife; and driving it with a frenzied v force into the exposed breast of the unresisting, “Take dat! an’ when you gits to de bad place, ’member dat Black Ben settled scores wid you at last! , Darin—(lat, will do! Now, overboard!” Catching the dead,'limp form of the {mur- deredman, he .lifted it, as though it, were a feather, andfluug it over the A low, gurgling mean, a half—cry of .heart- . ' 5% faceless combatants had motto a deadly), times}? 3W»- Wsre fairly tasteless in Floyd, sunk beneath the dark, chilly waters of" ' the Schuylkill, not ten yards fx'orn‘the spot where, the, remains of‘his murdered uncla— ' murdered by his daring handiehad restedzand " i ' been food for fishes for more than two years. I A form crept stealthily, yet hurriedly, along _’ the river-bank. It now lacked only ‘ a tow 7» minutes of twelve o’clock: The night was in tensely dark, and even the paling stars were obscured behind the thin, gray racks of fleecy ’, 4’ a cloud floating across the inky sky. neared the edge of the park by the Schuylkill. “ By J upiter! the times are getting skittish ——infernall‘y ticklish,” he muttered, flying rumors are true! And, I tell you, Jeni Walton, you’re in a scrape, and the Captain, tool . . Found the old man, have they! Won- derful! wonderful! And yet~the job, though hastily done, was ,well done! . . throw me over, now? Look to yourself, Jen) knows—too much! Hal a bright, thought! Yes! the hour is late! I have a key—and—dny\ ' knife is keen! yes, Moll! Now we’ll see! we’ll see! you, boasted once—~ . he exclaimed, as he heard a noise, as of acting; gle going on upon the bridge, under [the deep, .' the face and on the board of Jean Walton. “ What is that—ha!” , p ‘ , He‘stooped down by the water’s edge, asthe ‘ merged, floated 'up at his very. feet and stranded ,On the pebbly shore. ~ I ‘ ‘ ‘ “Great God! the, Captain! Algyt aw fl, deadl dead! . . Now, Moll, therethwflfingv left! The timehascome!” , “" ” . Turning at once, he hurried along the edge at a halt-run. Then he, had out-jutting rock, and in a. few moments unused ' nearthelittlehousemthoriver. A bright light burned. strum the, high in the air, liken spectral eye out in the night”, “Hal good! she’s there!” " As he spoke, he took a pistol from If y‘ new . y ,1 and placed‘it in his right ooatpocket. loosed a knife under his belt. “‘ Bloody Moll is the only living can say‘a word against Jam Waltéhl”; hissed. “Come, nerve f, itch preaching the dark‘ ’ 1135's? y. house, he groped along until he felt the s ' door barring his way. ,In an mm; «I the bolt back, and-softly pushedopen,.the dour, leaving it standing wide rajar. In adamant Suddenly the, door at the head olffihe' _ », stairs, the 'one opening into the elegantly: nished reception-room before referred to— ? , opened. A dark form obscured the more, the staircase was boot. ing through, that doorway. ’ voice. No answer, the creaking boots still as ' “1 km" "is you, Ben. and that your}: .' a well done. ‘What—” She had not time to finish the sentence; If: the man suddenly raised his head, bounded on ” the landing, and, knife in hand, dashed 1 upon the woman. The latter, though "taken-i unawares, soon recovered herself, and retreated ‘ into the room, at the same time drawing from . er belt a huge, naked knife. “ J em Walton! Then you’ve heard the new: I, on, cowardly villain! gc’ome on! and I. will,,ri,d‘ the gallows of its dues.” g 1 ’ She'had no I d to bid the man 011;” he terribly in earnest. . In another .mstantx » brawn ., .2. The rest at the sentence '.. I; ‘r U . ' v. V _ . ,.. . "v /. » Amoment ands sickening splash was heard; ,, and the scarred, mutilated bedyot Algernon ' I Stealthily, swiftly, the man crept on; he Will Algy: Walton, and get away from here! And them. old Moll, bloody old beast that she isl aha ‘H gloomy arch of which the man stood. Relis- ‘ - toned- The noise increased; then f ' heavy, sickening whiz of a. falling“ badly; other moment and a heavy splash echoed under s ‘ ‘ the sounding arch, and the flying'spmy fell in ’ ’dark outlines or a grotesque fighter hall-sub: ~ " . cautiously adjusted the keyvin the lock, my? “Isthat you, Bent” asked accuse [and at last, you’re afraid or the rope! Come ' ~ “ Hal-what tethering ., v I i1 X I n... courage. The temperied‘bludes _ glinted I as they came in contact. The light '1' n was extinguished, and a terrible battle was in— ‘ . j augura . Nothing was heard save the terri- ble dull thuds of the descending knives. Sud- ', ydeuly, a lon , wailing cry came from the man; ' * ,, then a terrib e, fierce sputtering, as this throat ~ ~ ’. . was seVered, and then another cry. ' ' “yYOu’vo got it, J em Walton! - and now, to the waters!” " V' ' At that instant a. pistol-shot rung in the air. ‘2‘; ,J'r » With a half-shriek the woman staggered to herpfoet, threw her arms wildly about er head, ‘ and, with a fearful groan, sunk slowly-to the 4. ' oor.’ ' . came and the sun shone throu h the narrow ‘ , .Window of that ghastly roomy t, was now a I death chamber. . , I Stark, terrible in death, lay Jem Walton in ‘ ‘ , his gore, ,his» throat cut from ear to ear; and near him was Bloody Moll, a bullet-hole through You’ye got it! : ' the temple. ' ,, , CHAPTER XXXI. I “ , ' ‘ "THE reader can only infer to a ’certain extent ,_ , the strap erevelatlons opened up b the sudden death of lgernon Floyd, Jem Wa ton. and old , - Moll. Those revelations would fill a volume. , , Certain pers were ‘found on Algernon ‘ Floyd’sperson when his cold, stifl! corpse was 1 ‘ \- taken from the Schuylkill, and, for convenience, “If carried, to the same barge—house wherein the night‘before had rested the horrible remains of Thompson Ftlglyd. Those papers told a strange and fearful. e. . r Documents were found, also, in the house of old “Moll, riveting various links of crime and A. . tori-o'th the dark secrets carried about by , ‘ .A’l omen loyd. E r . I or will briefly state that these singular ‘ r 1; documents are in our hands; and should a demand be made at some future tinie, we will _ 'write out as. dark a tale as evor was ’spread be- ' gorethe public. .Until, that demand be made . the comet history of these river-pirates and r murderers must be ullowsd to rest. 30h!yd fewwords‘ more, and we must push «aside. the scribbled sheets and wipe our pen. .v “ _ 'aClayton’s remains were followed to- ‘zgrav’e by only a half-dozen, mourners; “aim them were Clinton Craig, Fred Ashe, ’ ue-eyed, great-hearted Alice Bay. And " {lithe three turned awe. from the lowly, fresh~ ! ', mound i‘n Laure Hill, there went forth I v _ [each of their hearts “an earnest prayer for the repose of the soul of the ambitious yet un- ' To this day no marble shaft or A ' , tells who rests there, so silently the meaning cemetery. Her history lives . -' ,ouly'in the memo of those who knew her in ” W' the days, that are and gone, to return no u more remover. ‘ i I _ n . 111'. Clayton turned out tabs at defaulter ~' or a large amount of the bank’s mono . ‘He not long survive his awn disgracefu expo- ,He put an end to his existence by shoot- himself through the head. i v .- acth was heard of once again; it was far ; flay in the distant West; buthis ultimate fate a ill-is not our province here to tell. - Crai , in due time. succeeded to the. property left lam b Mr. Thompson Floyd, main reality be young man’s father. And a singular etc was left to the auburn. r heirede by’the od man; the second aper ‘ Win the shoall square package to that sfighter: hpd read that revelation with tear- dimmod, s, on a dark. and windy night. all ' alonein' ellbrrary. And on the next day he 7 had journeyed to New York. In the quiet shadowed Greenwood, under a meaning wil- ; , ‘lowhhehad founda plain slab bearing this brief inscription: - - . as Tom” a, Gertmwlwaged twenty-six.” - :; ,OVerthat umble stone Clinton Craig had strewn memorial flowers and with his face : ,l bowed, to the cold slab hind murmured: a {‘“MOIrEEE! MOTHER” . ~. ’ Arfew‘ weeks rolled away, and the silvery peel of marriage bells chimed in the air. The ._ devoted, blue eyed Almanay was, ,at , " nstfthe glad, happy Wife of .him whom she , ' «haialways loved~—Clinton Craig. ,And Dr. Ashe, noble friend, self—sacrificing, V ‘ friend stood by and held out the ring' ,‘ of virgin gold, that bound the twain tOgether. But no pang shot through his manly heart; no tearstarted to his eye. He was happy in that. I, ; others were re icing. I 3 ' Q g. I" On the ban of the Hudson, sixty miles S . New ,YOrk, standsthe. elegant mansion or e“, ‘3 >/\ ‘ ' 3' ,0 "‘ - a 1 * * The night passed; the morning ' .73! ' , _‘ .le Clinton'Craig, far removed item theT‘scenes of the sung man’s former troubles and triumphs. An Alice is spared to him yet, while two,blue~ eyed boys sport on the spreading lawn, and gladden the passing hours of sunshine‘there. Fred Ashe, M. .—still a bachelor-—iswith the happy‘ household. I There we will leave them. THE END. Half-Dime Singer’s Library 1 WHOA, EMMA! and’59 other Songs. 2 CAPTAIN Gum and 57 other Songs. 3 TEE'GAmsEOIw’ BAT and 62 other Songs. 4‘JOBN'NY MORGAN and 60 other Songs. 7 5 I’LL STRIKE You WITH A FEATHER and 62 others. 6 GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 THE BELLE or ROCKAWAY and 52 other Songs. :8 YOUNG FELLAE, YOU’RE Too FRESH and 60 Others. 9 SHY YOUNG GIRL and 65 other Songs. 10 I’ll run GOVERNOR’S ONLY SON and 58 other Songs. 11 Mr FAN. and 65 other Songs. 12 COMIN’ THRO’ run RYE and 55 other Songs. 13 THE ROLLICKING IRISHMAN and 59 other Songs. 14 OLD Doc TRAY and 62 other Songs. 15 WHOA. 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Exhibition Speaker. The Best Weekly Of Popular, Entertain- , , Awnings! ‘ STANDARD DIME PUBHUA‘llflNS.’ y Speakers. BEADLE Ann ADAMS have now on their lists the fol» lowing highly desirable and attractive text-books, prepared expressloy) for schools, families, etc. Each volume contains 1 large paglees, printed from clear, open t e, comprisin the logues, ramas and itations, (burles ue, comic and otherwise.) The Dime Speakers for he season of 1883—415 far as now issued —embrace twenty—four volumes, viz.: , 1. American Speaker. 13. School Speaker. 2. National Speaker. . 14. Ludicrous Speaker. I 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker. 4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth’sS eaker. 5. Elocutionist. 17. E10 uent eaker. 6. Humorous Speaker. 18. Hai Colum in Speak- 7. Standard Speaker. . er. ' 8. Stump Speaker. 19. Serio-Comic Speaker. 9. Juvenile Speaker. ‘20. Selects aker. 10. S read-Eagle Speaker 21. Funny ‘peaker. 22. J 011 S eaker. 23. D ect peaker. 24. Dime Book of Recitations and Readings. , These bboks are re lete with choice pieces or the School-room, the ibition. for Homes, etc. They are drawn from FRESH sources, and contain some of the choicest oratory of the times. 75 to 190 Declama— tions and Recitations in each book. , Dmlo es. ' The Dime Dialogues. one volume 100 pages, em- brace thirt books, viz.: ’ 11. D e Debater. Dialogues 0. One. Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues No. Two. ,Dialogues No. Seventeen. Dialogues No. Three. .Dialogues No. Eighteen Dialogues No. Four. V [Dialogues No. Nmeteen. ._ Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues NO. Twenty. ' Dialogues -No. Six. {Dialogues No. Twenty-one. Dialogues N 0. Seven“ ,DialoguesNo. Twenty-two. Dialogues N 0. Eight. ,Dialogues NO. Twentydhree. Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues NO. Twenty-four. DiaIOgues N o. Dialogues o. Dialogues 0. Ten. 'Dielogues NO. TWenty—ilve. Eleven. rlDlalogues NO. TWentyrsix. TwelVe. DialoguesNo.Twenty-seven. Dialogues No. Thirteen. {Dialogues No. TWenty-eigbt: Dialogues No. Fourteen :Dialogues NO. Twentyx-ume. Dialogues NO. Fifteen. "Dialogues No. Thirty. 15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in‘eacb book. These volumes have been pre cred with especial reference to their availability) all school-rooms, They are adapted to schools with or without the fur- niture of a stage, and introduce a, ran 3 of charac- ters suited to scholars of every grade, th male and female. It is fair to assume that no volumes yet offered to schools, at any price, contain so many avaalabteand useful dialogues and dramas, serious and comic. ‘ Dramas and Readings. 164 12m» Pages. ‘20 . r ' For Schools,'Parlors, Entertainments and the Am- I ateur S e, comprisng Original Minor Dramas. Comedy, arce, D ess ieces Humorous Dialogue and Burlesque, b ‘cted Writers; and Recitations and ne ' ud standard, of the, ’ eatest celebritvan interest. ~ Edited by Prof. A. M. 118861). mun Eggs—Boone. I Young People’s Series. BEADLE’s DIME HAND- eons roa, Yours, Prom ' cover a wide range of subjects, and are oggeclally adapted to their end. .They constitute at some cheapest and most useful works yet put into the market foraopular circulation. , Ladles‘ Let rdWriter Book of Games. ' Gents‘ letter-Writer. ' Fortune-Teller. grog o: xlgthuette. Emery Casket. ' o erses. . -room Com Book of Dreams. ' Book of Beautwa Hand-Books of Games. Bmm’s Dun: HAND-Boone or GAMES AND Forum: Hugo-Becks cover a variety of subjects,vand are es- pecially adagted to their end. ‘ andbook of Summer Sports. Book of Croquet. 4 Yachting and Rowing ‘ Chess Instructor. Riding and Driving. ' Cricket and Football. Book of Pedestrianism. Guide to Swimming. 1 ‘ Handbook Of Winter Sfiorts~8kating, etc. 1 ' Manuals for ousewlvee. . BEADLE’s DIME FAMIIY Seams aims to ‘supplv'a class of text-books and manuals fitted for every per- son 8 use—the old and the young the learned and the unlearned. They are of conceded value. ;. Bpgokk ‘ ~ g: gamin Sgysician. . .pe oo , ressm ' and Nil- 8. Housekeeper"s Guide. linery ng Lives of Great Americans Are presented complete and authentic biographies of many of the men who have added luster to the ilepublic by their lives and deeds. The series emi races: ‘ A l.-~Georgc Washington. VII—David Cro .k . ll.-~Johu Pa, ll Jones. ’ VIII.——lsrael Putgatexi? lll.——.- .zulAnt onyWayne X.-——~Tecumseh. ‘ - ‘ lV.——Ethan Allen. 1 XI.——Abraham Lincoln. ‘ V.—-Mamuis de Lofav- XII.~—Pontiac. . - '1 ' X .—Ulysses S. Grant. ette. 4 .. VL—Daniel Boone. " . The above publications for sale b all neWsdealci‘s’ ' or ‘will he sent. ostgid, on recglpt oprrlce, by ' “ BEADLE & AD, . WILLIAM Sr.,N.Y. , "v .“ ".IY L I . st collection of Die. » ‘. it” a is u g . §§ g '332 t u is" -/ 340. 3341. 342. r 343. , 344. v, ' 346. 347. 848. 349. "351. 352. [354.01d , 3582 is 38 3632 36 335 Kirke, Ben 3662 r‘ .7. v 368. $4.131: Lak "375 n. s 2% a 3781 - 379 seesaw. §§§§ see Q §§§§§§§§§§§ 407. Blue 011 Red . The Lost 5. The Twin Trailers. .. “.8218 .1 D'iM E. NOVELS. ‘ , Incomparable in Merit. ' 4 Beadle renews: Unapproachable in Price. 01d Grizzl . Dashing ra cons. Will-o’-the—'\ isp. Dashin Dick. r 0 3 1d Crossfire. Ben Bramble. The Brigand Captain Old Strategy. The Rival Hunters. The Texan Scout. Zebra Zack. Masked Messenger Mo the Pirate: Th3? 3 Tim, the Trailer. Red x. A Ste the S y. Thfihite Apvenger. ' The Indian King, The Leng Trail. Kirk the Guide. The hantom Trail. The Apache Guide. The Mad Miner. ' Keen Eye, the Ranger Blue Belt, Guide. . On the Trail. The Specter S y. Bald H . . Bashful Bill S y. The White Chigf. Cortina, Scourge. 1 The. nde . 3%? Swill ’76. W S anish Jack. ads. Dingle, the utlaw. - The Green Ranger. Montbars, Scourge.’ j M more. 'Thernpath, Trailer. Foul-weather Jack. The Black Rider. The Helpless Hand. e e Ra rs. Alone on the us. Phantom Horseman. . mona.’ ‘ , Silent Shot, SlathCiX‘. The Phantom _ p. The Red Rider. The, izzl Hunters. $111?” I , . p . etc. The ’ v ' , The First Trail. SheetrAnchor Tom, Old Avoirdupois. White Gladiator. 9P6?- Dan. . The Fire—Eater. aptaln. Death’s-head Ranger . Captain of Captains. Warrior Princess. The Blue Band. The new Chief. . Mountain G1 '. - Death Trailer. Crested Se ant, #11;ka t, I 8 Corsair Prince. ,. Allen’s Rifl .‘ Little Thunder—bolas The Falcon Rover, Quest Hand. ‘ ‘ E §§§§§§§§§§§§E ‘ 4333. 434. 435. 436. 437. 438. 439. 477: 478. 479. Be. 4&3 thigh? 489. 490. 491. 92. h! 496. £133 5122 513. L-Eastan . gheéDoomled . ar en t e Rang. er. . The Gray Scalp. , . The Paddler Spy. . The White Canoe. . E hPeters. . Ned Starlin . . Single Hang. . Tippy, the Texan. ' if Buff 1 Tr . e a o a r. .. Old Zip. ' ppe . Foghorn Phil. . Mossfoot, the Brave. . Snow-Bird. g. a . Winifred Wrecker's Daughter. i The Stone Chief. - The Gold Demon. Entawan, the Slayer Masked Guide. The Conspiiators. Swiftwin . Caribou p. The Privateer. The Black Spfi. unter. 'T e Two Hunters. The Traitor Spy. . The Gray Hunter. . Little Moccasin. . The White Hermit. . The Island Bride. . TheForest Princess. . The Trail Hunters. . Backwoods Banditti. . Ebtholand. . ug mg . Mohe an . The . Sumter’s Scouts. '. The FiveCham ions. Eyes. Maiden. uaker Scout. The Two Guar umdaro. . gob Ruskin he Rival Rovers. Musta er. unted 'L1 8. Youn $1110; Dragoon‘s Bride d Honesty. The Moose Hunter. The Brigantine. Put. Poml'ret‘s Ward. Sim lezPhil. . aviess! Client. Ruth Harland. The Gulch Miners. Captain Molly. Wiuieanuml. The rtisan Spy. The . Prince. "The Sea Captain. are. 1 rd. The Border Rd 3...... ° ' rs... r oreo . ’11 Man. Chip. the Cave Child. Bill Outward Bonn . Burt Bunker. ale-Face Squaw. Winthrop. Hearts Forever, . The Frontier rage], . ggniga. A ' . e 1 aid of Eso . Ahmo‘s Plot. pus. . The Water Wait. . The Hunter’s Cabin, . Hates and Loves. . Oononmo, the Huron . White Faced Pacer. . Wetzel, the Scout. . The Quakeress Spy. . Veiled wenefactress. . Uncle Ezekiel. Westward Bound. . Wild Raven, Ranger. 2. Agnes Falkmnd. ‘ 543. Nathan 'l‘Odd. ’ Q r», ssssshrsss Biddon.Tra per. , 514. 545. 546. the Forest. ‘ ‘ ‘ Antwe . ‘ 547. MadgelWylde. h-l cougarsz HOSIDQGSJQKSPOIO SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSfigfififégfiggfigg. v 8393 §H§§§§§“33333fi3§38$$£$3$$ as . I . Wild. . The Indian Hlmters. Myrtle,.the our: of htn Jo. I ' 'II‘li‘ii Bilggksmith of 548. The Creole Sisters. 549. S ‘ 550 ml? Child 1: . ' e o 551 fido «icon.H . aw e e arry. Othersyin THE ILLUMINATED DIME POCKET NOVELS. Dead Shot. ‘The Boy Miners. lue Dick. - at Wolfe. . The White Tracker. ‘ . The Outlaw’s Wife. The Tall Trapper. . The Island Pirate. . The Boy Ranger. . Bess. the Trapper. . The French Spy. . Long Shot. . Gunmaker of Border. Red Hand. . Ben, the Tragger. . T‘lfie S cter ‘ef‘. . ’ e ar-Killer. Wilvaat. Jto,t¥1he1§}uide. en e anger. One—Eyed Trapper. Godbo d, the Spy. The Black Ship. Single Eye. Indian Jim. TheIScfint. Eag e ye. The Mystic Canoe. The Golden Harpoon. The Scalp King. Old Lute. Rainbolt the Ranger. The Boy ' oneer. Carson, the Guide. The Heart-Eater. The Huge Hunter. Wild Nat. the Trapper T e Whl e Outlaw. The Dog Trailer. The Elk Kin . '» Adrian, the lot. The Manhunter. The Phantom Tracker 152 Moccasin‘Bili. ' The Wolf Queen. Tom Hawk,Trailer. The Mad Chief. Eh: Black-JWrilf. r 'ansss ac . Blackbeard. ‘ The River Rifles. Hunter Ham. Cloudwood. The Texas Hawks. Merciless Mad Anthony's Scouts " Tra .The Lirclzless , r . The Florida Soon . . The Island Trapper. . Wolf . Rattli?€%ick. ye. She . Iron- and. . The Yellow Hunter. The Phantom Rider. .‘ . Delaware Tom. I . . Silver Rifle. eath De enton, the Ranger. s r Horseman. T eThree Trappers. . ' Kaleolah. The Hunter Hercules. . Phil Hunter. The Indian Scout, The Girl Avenger. The Red Hermitess. Star-Face, the Slayer. The Antelope Boy. The Phantom Hunter Tom Pintle, the Pilot. The Red Wizard. The Rival Trappers. The Sqégaw Spy. Dusky ick. .‘ColonlC cktt. 00 e re 6 . Old Bear Paw. tedlaw. ube. . Scarred Eagle.- - . Nick Doyle . The Indians . Job Dean. py . . The Wood to . Old Rumthe’l‘ra . 4' . The Scarlet 8110 are . The Border Rifleman. . Outlanack. 80. Tiger MLISemiuole. a er. ’ 203. 109. The Scalped Hunter. 110. Nick the Scout. 111. The Texas Tiger. , 112.~The Crossed Knives. 113. Tiger Heart, Tracker 114. The Masked Avenger 115. The Pearl Pirates. innar- ll . ' e ve r. 118. Cato ,the Cregfgfie 119‘. Two- anded at. 120. Mad Trail untcr. 121. Black Nic . ’ 122. Kit Bird. , 123. The S )ecter Riders. 124. Giant etc. 125. The Girl Ca tain. 126. Yankee Ep . 127. Silverspur. 128. ‘uatter Dick. 129. T eChild Spy. ‘ 130. Mink Coat. 131. Red Plume. 132. Clyde, the Trailer. 183. The Lost Cache. 134. The Cannibal Chief. 135. Karaibo. 136. Scarlet Moccasin. 137. 138. Maido heMountain. 139. The Scioto Scouts 140. The BorderRenegade 141. The Mute Chief. 142. Boone,,the Hunter. 143. Mountain Kate. 144. The Red Seal er. 145. The Lonf Ch cf. 146. The Silver Bugle. 147‘. Chinéwathe Cheyenne 148. The angled Trail. 149. The Unseen Hand. 150. The Lone Indian. 151. The Branded Brave. ut. . Jacket. , 155. The Jungle Scout. 156. The Cherokee Chief. 157. The Bandit Hermit. 158. ThejPatriot Scouts. 159. The Wood Rangers. ’160 Them . . . , Foe. 161. autll‘ul Unknown. 162. ' brake Mose. 166. We! W cm . 13.7. The Three {Zaptlhigm g. The Lost Hunter. 9. Border Law. 170. The Lifted Trail. . 178. The Border cos. 1%. Border Vengeance. 1’75. Border Bessie. 176. The Sons of Liberty. 17?: The Lost Bride. in s ‘ Q r 0 W8: 0 13. The Prairie 181.!!edL'htnl . : Brasilia”? . Night-Hawk Kit. Mustang Sam. ‘ 185. Hurricane Bill. , 186. The Red Outlaw. 187. The Swamp Scout; 1.88. The Shaw . ’sFoe. 189. Mohawk t. 190. Old ane. _ 191. The Prairie Rifles. . 192. Old Kyle, thc’Trailer. 193. Big Foot. the-Guide. earner“ .. e an n reen. 36. Glass Eye. 19? 198 199 200 201 . Black John. . Keen Knife. . The Mad Ski “r. . The Young py. 902. The Indian, Avenger. )‘Bival lieutenants. 204. The Swamp Rifles. 205. The Balloon Scouts. 206, Dacotah Scourge. $17., The TwinAScouts. 208., Buckskin Bill. 209. Border Avengers, ' 210. Tim anble‘s Charge 211.),The Shawuee’seout. . The Prairie Trappers 1 212. The Silent Slayer. 2%. Onthe'Deep. - 22?. irons. _ v ‘ The Menntaineer. ‘ . '7. 229. The Hunter’s Escape, " , 213. The Prairie Queen; 214. The ‘Backwoodsmen. 215. .Thetrgrisorier of La Vin see. Peleg Smith 21.6. . 230. The Golden Belt. . ' . 217. The Witch of the 231. The Swam » Riders. " . ' Wallowish. 232. Jabez Haw . r x 218. The Prairie Pirates. 2‘13. Massasoit’sDaughter ' Q’ j 219. The Hussar Captain. The Mad Hunter. ‘ v y '220. The Red Spy. 235. The Reefer of "76. r -» 221. Dick Darling. 236. Antelope Abe. * ~ * 9 j 222. Mustang Hunters, 287. The Hunter‘s Vow. ; ,. » 223. Guilty or Not Guilty. 238. The Hunter‘s Pledge. 224. The Outlaw Ranger. 219. Rattlepate. 225. Schuylkill Rangers. 240. The airie Bride. . ’ . 3, Speakers. -' Each volume contains 100 large printed .- 3 from clear open. type, comprising. slim oollec—II " tion of Dialogues ramas and Rec1tations. ,. . I - _, The Dime Speakers for the season of 1863 embrace ‘ ‘ a ‘ ~43; twenty-four volumes, viz: . ‘ . 1. American Speaker. ‘13. School Speaker. . ’ . r ’1 2. National Speaker. 14. Ludicrous Speaker. 1 .3 3. Patriotic Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker, : ~ , 4. Comic Speaker. 16. Youth‘sS eaker. I ‘ 5. Elocutiouist. . 1. cut ,, ker. i ,' 6. Humorous Speaker. 1 ‘. Ha Colum a Speak- 7. Standard Speaker. I _ t ‘ 8. Stump S aker. 19..Semo-Connc;8peaker. 13. gnve‘rii‘iile peager. k 8&1th , r.’ , . re -Eag elpea er . .nny peaker. 11. 1) me Debater. 22. J01 'S alter. r 3 ‘ ,, 12. Exhibition Speaker. $3. Di ect gm . . ' 1 . 24. Dime Book of Recitations and readings} « _ . These books are re lele with choice pi ' for the , School~room, the Ex ibition, for Homes, e 0. 9‘6.” 100 Declamations and Recitations in each book. I \ " ‘ Dialogues. The Dime Dialogues, each volume 100 brace thirt books, viz.: ' an; , Dialogues 0. One. Dialogues No. Sixteen- , Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues N0:Seventeen. a No. Three. No. 1 _ 119. Four. 130., No. No. No. , No. I No. o.‘ No. dive. No. -six. ‘ - _ , V No. Twem :seven. .1, ‘ N0. Tw, relate N0. Tw —nine._. ' No. o.ThW.y. . ‘ '. . to Dialogues and Dramas in eachfiaok. ‘r s Regain“? ‘ 164 121x10 Pages. 20 Centa‘ii , For Schools, Parlor ‘ mannith the Am» ‘ ateur S glnal Minot“ Dramas, I ’ Comedy, anon, ess eces, Humorous. Di u p ang Burlesque, by rotlgd wnm alfnl' : . 'Beadi new :1 stan o . 3mm. Edited by r’rot. A. ‘ DIME HAND—BOO@. Young 'Pezp-lh’s Eel-lest f , g ’; anm‘s Bum gains-Boone iron Youilh‘mmé. . e , 'cGVer a wide ra of sub'ects and adaptedtotheirngg‘d: J , r W * “ Indies’ lettenWriter. Boo k Gents‘ letter-Writer.“ Fortune: eller ., mm o; $1;qu - Lovers’ ' o- arses. ‘ . ~ " . ‘Book of Dreamer Book of Beauty. ,. , ' ‘ , offinmmers , “’ Book or Yachting and Solving ” Chess ins , During. 5’ Cricket andll‘ootball. ‘ Book of Pedestrianism. " GuidetoSanhlfiR. .’ ,_ . . Handbook of. Winter Sports—Skating; etc. ' Hannah hr Housewivoh. ‘ ‘f 1. Cook Book. . ' 4. Familyrhyaican. 2. Beef 5. Dr maid ‘ ‘ and Ill-"fl “ 8. Hongcekeoper‘s Guide. 'h‘eii‘grv _“ v ; = 4 j . m...— . .\ “ r a 1 Lives of Great Americm‘ . ,1. I.——George Washington. VII.-—David cracked; 11.— —John Paul Jones. Vl‘ll.-—-Isracl Putnam. , III.—— AnthonyWayne ‘X.——Tecn . v ‘ IV.—-Ethan ' n. » XI.-Ahraha1n Idacoln. {:7 V.— rqnis do Lafay XII.—Pontiac. ‘- ' . l r e . XXL—Ulysses S.- Grant. ' Vl.--Daniel Boone. 7 ‘ ' ' 7 \B ‘ n n 3“ rhlmntost mag man’s nm‘ c. ’06. ~ 8., the only gang? collection copyright songs. ‘ _' ~ 1 e . ., , SchoolMelodist’}Music and Words. ,x - ‘ I Joke Books. , z ‘ I Pocket Joke Book. ‘ 'Jim Crow Joke Book“ f. ? Paddy Whack Joke Book. . ‘ The above publications for saleby all no or will be sent.- post' ' on, recei of BEADLE¢ mans, $$msm?s. Yp ‘_ . i " ’x a’ x5 .‘ {Dime Dialogues, No. 1. 'i , ' " 4,4 " ’ ’1 You. I to SI Inclusive. 15 lo 35 l’opular Dialogue. and Dramas In each book. .4 z - I po.¢.pam, on receipt or price, TEN CENTS. « BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St, N. Y. . These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors with '8' without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and female. It is fair to assum. “the other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment. Younfiifimerica. For three males and two females. I _ Joseg e’s Destiny. 'For four females, one male. 3%; , " of the Muses. For nine oung ladies. The olly‘of the Due]. For three male speakers. _ I , 3 Eve Englishman. For hree boys. I Dogmatlsm. For three male speakers. Tasso s'Coronatlon. For male and temale. ‘ . Fashion. For two es. , . Thereheamal. For six boFys. ~ ngch will you Choose? or two boys. Th a green of Ma ., For two little girls. The .‘arParty. or four ladies. - -1 ; Three Scenes in'Wedded Life. For male and female. Mrs. Sumes’e Confession. For m is and female. , Themssion of the Spirits. For ve young ladies: ‘ Webbing. ‘ Fer five . Secret of Success. or three speakers. .1 The ignorant Confounded. For two boys. The ast You Man. For two males”;- and one male. » Dime Dialogues, No. 2. Cinderella or, the Little Glass Slipper The Year's Rec oning. Twelve females, one male. The Village with One'Gentleman. For eight females The Genius of Liberty. Two males and one female. Doing Goal and Saying Bad. For several W11. ‘ Each volume 100 lame pages, sent The Golden Rule. For two males and two felnales. The Gift of the Fe Queen. For several femdes. Taken in and Dpne or. For two characters. Country Aunt’s‘Visit to the City. Several character-I. The Two Romans. . For two males. ' T the Characters. For three males. The app; Family. For seve ‘_‘ animals.” The Rain K w. For several characters. - , How to write “ Po ular “; Stories. For two males. The New and the 1d. For two males. A Sensation at Last. For two males, The Greenhorn. For two males. The Three Men of Science. For four males. The Old Lad '3 Will. For four males. The Little P oso hers For two little girls. How to Find an eir. For five males. The Virtues. For six young A Connub'ial Eclogue. .. v ‘ The Public Mee . For five males and one female. The English Trav er. For two males. Dune Dialogues. No. 3, The May Queen. For an entire school. ' Dress Reform Convention. For an: females. Keepingfiad Cbmgflany. ‘ Farce. Forflve males. Court UnderD culties. Two males, one telnan Natio Representatives. ABurlesque. Fourmalel. the Raft. / For numerous Esca The Cook. For two males _ Masterpiece. For two males and two females. The Two Re mans. For two , The Same. Second Scene. For two males. why-tang the White Feather. Four males, one tank. lo Call. A Beeltativez ' 8 he The For one male.- The Frost Kin .‘ For ten or more persons: Start in e. ‘ For three males rind tvto females. Faith, 0 e and Charity. For three litt ls. garb an Joan. For two males and on emale. e y. A Floral Fancy. For six king‘s-iris“ The Enchanted Princess. 2 males, seve females; Honor to Whom Honor is Due: 7 males and lifemala The Gentle Ghent. Several males and One female. Phrenolo . A Discussion. For twenty males. The Stub etown Volunteer. 2 males and limb. A Scene from “ Paul .“ For four mailed , The Charms. For three males and one female. Bee, Clock and Broom For three little girls. The ht w. . A Coll uy. For two boys. What t e L er Says. or two males. The Crimes 0 Dress. A 0110?. For two boy: The Reward of Benevolence; or four males. The Letter. For two males. \ I Dime Dialogues, No. I. The Three Guesses. For school or arlor. Sentiment. A “Three Persons’ " aroe. Behind the Curtain. For males and females. : The Eta Pi Society. For five boys and a tow. Examination Day. For several female charm Tradln in “ Tra s." For several males; . The Schoolboys‘ bunal. For ten born, I , _ , A Sad Stony, , ‘ A. String 0 Onions, . A Tragic Story, ' Cats, 4 Courtship, Debt De ‘ 1132:, jg'gclfiectures, _ an o Fashionable Women, Fern Thistles, Good-Nature, r, Gottlieb Klehcyergoss Schlaokenlichter’s snake, Hosea Bi Iow‘s inions, How the oney oes, ‘ I. ’Hun-ki-do-ri’s Fourth of July Oration, If {301: Mean No, Say No, Jo ows on Leap Year, La of the Heanecked, Lo Skinner’s E egy, Matrimony, Nothing to Do 01d Capdlq’s Umbrella, Old Grunes‘s Son, , Paddle Your OwnCanoe, P “ Araby‘s ‘ The World We Live In, Woman’s Clai » Authors of our y, The Con ueror, The tizen‘s eritage, ‘ Mechanic, Nature and Nature’s God ' The Modern Good, (Sun, ‘ Oasian’e Addrem to the independence Bell—1777, . 1 Diane; Humorous ' Poetry Run Mad, R ht Names, Scientific Lectures, ' The Agier, The Cockney, The Codfish, Fate of Sergeant Thin, The Features’ Quarrel, Haniexican Voodch-uck, The Harp of a Thousand Strings, The Last of the Sarpints, The March to Moscow, The Mysterious Guest, The Pumgé The Sea- rpent, The Secret, The Shoemaker, The Useful Doctor, The Waterf To the Bache ors' Union ue, Unite States Presidents, Va aries or Popping the Whufitiiirn’uidnw ' a o Yankee Doodle Afilln, Moekeetare, Speaker. No. 7. eaven, Miss Prude‘s Tea-Party, The Power of an Idea, The Benefloe [ Dream of the Revelers, HowCyrus Laid the Cable The Prettiest Hand, Paradoxical, Little Jerry, the Miller, nee ofthe‘ ., A The oak, ‘ r Fog Th ts, Thegiadies' an, Life, , The Idler, The Unbeliever, The Two Lives, The True Scholar, Judges not Infallible, Fanaticism, Instability of Successful Agriculture, - Crime, Ireland, The Peogle Always Con- Music of ,abor, [quer, Prussia and Austria, Wishing, ‘ , Hon. J. M. Stubbs’ Views on the Situation, . Hans Schwackhoimer on Woman’s Sufirage, Ali‘for a Nomination Old Ocean, Sea, The Sea,the Sea, the open Star Bang-led Spanner, Stay Where You Belo , Life’s What You Make Where’s My Money, v Sgieech from Conscience, an’s Relation to Society The Limits to He piness, Goodonature a ‘ (Sreii'lmoxa from HardrBa-shell 3. -en ers, p The Value of Money, Meteoric Disquisition, Be Sure You are Right, Be of Good Cheer Crabbed Folks, fShrew, Taming a Masculine Farmers, [Our Country The True Greatness o Blarney-Stem, The Student of Bonn , The Broken Household” ’ The Bible, ' The Purse and the Sword My Country, True Mora Courage, What is War? Butter, My Deborah Lee, The e, The Pin and Needle, The Modern Purl Immortality of the Occupation, Heronsm and Daring, A Shot at the Decanter. , ul, Dime Stump Speaker. No. 8. New England and Union, The Unseen Battlefield, Plea for the Republic, America, _allacy, “ Right of Secession ” a. Life's Sunset, Human Nature, Lawyers, , Wrongs of the Indians, W in behalf of Am. ries of War,[Liberty, i Lay Sermon, ’i'Lgtronomioal, [ e no Duties 0?, American e an Temptations of Cities, Broken Resolutions, ’ There is no Death, A itfifl Discourse, t Eti‘t‘mn tfn’si‘lmca‘é‘i’ a one. 11 T111133 Amateurooachman: ‘ p i 1 I Dru-oer: 29;. Aim «as WILLIAM; eraser, Kr. " ., ~ .‘ . I Dime Book mime ~ ~ , The Cold-water Pre milestome The cofheha Wm : w‘ The - ti 3, OrdeWaBusiness and The “ Question.“ How it can \ The “Question.” Howto be 00 dered, 0 -' ,2 j 7* II. Mela cream 1. ' ».‘W~ *' * John Thomgeon’sllag‘e,’ ‘ 1 " Hermanencg of States, House Cieamngfium Iibertyof peech, ltIsKotYour Dime Juvenile Speaker, No. 9. c ‘ “ A Bov’s I’hiloegghy, How the Raven Beam , Hoe but Your w, lack, 4 * _ Six-Year-Old’s Protest, A Mother’s Work, 4 r. The Suicidal Cat, The Same, , ' .‘ 1% Vagidicggon, XVlsig Rulgz) ‘ o ‘ rn ee ~ \ , Thgpndigtor, ’ AlittlgCorxrgspondent, I ’ a The Same, in rhyme, One Good Tum Deserves _ , v , w The Fairy Shoemaker, My Dream, [Another, ‘ What Was Learned, Rain, Press On, I'll Never Use Tomi», The Horse, A Mosaic, ' , The Snake in the Grass, The Old Bachelor, v “ i. Tale of the Tropics, Prefer to Light, , g 4‘ ,: Bromley’s Speech, Litt e Jim, , The Same, second extract Angelina‘s Lament, u r I “ , The Fisher’s Child, JohnnyShi-imps onBoofl ._ , Shake 'an Scholar, Mercy, ‘ .- ; u» AMai en’sPsalm of Life, Choice of Hours A Mixture, , Poor Richard‘s Plea for Skates, “Who Killed Tom Roper,’ , Pinyin Ball, Nothing toDo, , a, r , Honesty Best Talley; , , Live for Somethi Heaven, , V V Lay of the Hen-Pecked, Ho for the Fields, ' r .\ The Out ‘de Dog, Fashion on ihe Bram, _ ' Wolf an lamb, On Shanghais,‘ , ' _. , Lion inéicérye,f , éSmiie, - I _ 3 7 Frogs ore King, lance. ‘ ' ' g: _ Sick Lion,mg Homoe-Xgmhic Soup, ' , i‘ Countryme Mice, Nose ‘ Eyes, ‘ , I -' 1illganancWVi-oman, 7 Keith I Y{ j l r _r ome. , undred ‘ ears " _ 'Il‘jbtefllqrtmil’ianter, 1 fig! Madmen W ./ ‘ e . eSeimong _ a. _ r A Baby‘s Sgfiloquy, Snuifies on g ' ,4 ' ” ' Re ntanoe r The Two Cradles, J, A lea for Eggshsm . The Ocean Storm, I Humb Patric , DO’ThinLittleo itWeI! Night Christmas, Little as, r- ‘ ~ ' » Short Legs, BaseeB [Keven _ Shrimps on Amusements, Prescrip on for Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker, Ho. 10. LL ‘7 Ben Buster‘s Qration Dunn-head Sermons. ., ' , Hans Von 8p ’3 4th, Schnitzexi’s , r, Josh Him ’8' thrice, “‘Woman’snglits, _ , Allard-she Sex-mm, Lu Lather, ' x The Boots, , The sag, m, : r . Noah and the, Devil, New Egghmd Tweedy, er’s Lu The Ancient Bachelor airmen Adel Jacob Whittle‘s speeds. hand or lee, Jerks Prggnoetiea' ta, ’ _ ~ Distinction‘s Disadvanh A Word th Snacks, V ' ; mith lagers. But Love _ ; ,r GushalinaBendibus, AMnleRi ," » <. 1, AStockofNotion r n'm/ 1' Speaking for the eriir, Ii Trovatore, ' a Shw f ' _ 6 SM, fié‘idixm uring 3&2“ ' i ‘s , . ’ DoctorDe heter’sAnn’t, The fleeseeher, Oonsi - nts, Bachelors, ggdBrym‘s Speech, Niamey ' e g ,. , A Colored View, People Will Talk, , 1 - z , Organ Maud Muller, Swackhamer's ' ' N0 gho‘tgouldn’t he w " Train Oirwmetances, on ohm ‘ " The Itching L—Dnslme 80m. , Its Chloe and!) - F0 «nominees, I ~ serum“, 0 1 $0188 of Order, Subjects 0E1. Discussion. _ committees. x 4 _. f - 3 Object; ofaCommittee ,7? w a , w Named, enNot their, ,, A ' , Ruloeoguot order l w.-Dmu~is. . fi L Debateintull: _ ' f Whichis them-eater»? *2 Benefit to ——the Warrior, ‘mamorPoet? ; I Debatesianef: f I._ Is the Bendix: WerlrsofFietbnabe ,. C named fit or a _ ‘33”? ,_ PM . 'l y :- , ‘y‘ . amusement s i “w .,._, r” 'l' .' ‘..— Q, 'urse of One Man _' , rest of " , hesz . The East and the West ‘ Therea‘n Moneyil'. t? Are we ‘ a. atlon? influence of Liberty ’ was: England Has Done Themght of Neutrality, ht Have Been " Man “signing at! t ’ d reset , ‘ous Freight, , , I, 'ZCtvord‘thelTrue Arbiter, V lfimem, \ _' «mammal, " . yam Ladlerous Streamer, No. 14. ‘ * Courting, , ‘ e ' l H Year . :muamws » Hen Speaker. at. 1-2. of the Day, e Heathen Chinee, , d, *Love Amnesty an Love, Beauty Song of Labor, Manifest Destiny, Let It Alone! .- Disconcerted Candidate, Maud Muller After Hans Breitman, What Is True Happiness? The Irish of It. A Iparody What We See in t e Sky. What I Wish, Good Manners, A Ballad of Lake Erie, Suflrage, , The Caucasian Race, A Review of Situation, g Little Breeches, Ming, Hans Donderbeck's We - A Victim of Toothache, Story of the Twins, “A Cold in the Nose, My Uncle Adolphus. ; Hm school Speaker, No. 13. The True Gentleman, The Tragic Pa, SABBATH-SCHOOL PIECES. A Cr for Life, The abbath, Gnarled Lives, A Good Lif e . To Whom Shall We Give Thanks? Resolution ' The Bible, ' Christianity Our Bul- wark, S‘il‘x’tiigthzig‘,“ e l r The Better View, Do Th Little—Do itWell Jesus .OI'ever, .‘_ _ . , Th Hart 6 . The World Beautiful Thtquhts,» Picture of e Be True to Yourself, You Man, Timeis assini, TheGo lof utumn‘, S k at Harshl , Coura y, The Eggrnal Hymn, Live for Good, _ The Silent City. nluc , ueer eople lting One’s Nose-0a., Golden Rules, 6 Singular Man, - Fourth of July Oratlon, Cheer Up, , ‘ ‘Bu :38 ‘ , c w ea Twain’s Little Boy, A Word with You, tight, d Imus?" n ' 9 Contentmgnt, ‘ On Courting, . , 0n Lang The Tanner ’ , n Wimmen s v The Healer, gm“ The Criminal La r, Ballad of Matilda ane, Water, I . The Ballad of at Baker, ' Good for Something, A Moving Sermon; ‘ n. » ' ' r , . W’IWWrNMIE amt,va Sorrowful Tale, The Loafer’s Society, 4 It’s the Early Bird, etc., Music ' Chi-l gchngider’s V do, 0 , GJdeulugl: ‘ v He vac D kin a 7 I ; Abner Jonee’ 'l‘éstimony' r they We ’ a». e‘Oruseder’ Angled, 1. Boris-1W r I Haw Drank 3 r Last,‘ ' V The Spirit-Shelliy Gravelotte, , Rum’s Maniac, , _ All Hail! v _ Life is What we Make it, Ewan. . cl fition of Science, Taste Not , Spu-it 0 or vemss. The Evil Beast, Help The hardest Lot of All, The Curse of Rum, The TWO Dogs: A fable, The Source of Reform, The Rum Fiend V True Law ‘and Boise, In Bad Compan§ The On] True obility. The Inc riate’s End, A Drunken Soliloquy, The Work to Do, To Labor is to Pray, H An Adjuration The KID of Business, Purityo S ech, Parson Cal well, Value of Re utation, Hand that 'j ksWorld, Swelling Manhood, v Summer, I Woman’s Love, The Brickla ers, Words of S' ver, 'Illfiiv'ei‘ on! Drive on! 6 ram , - The State gmmortal, The Moral Factor, Walking with the World, The only Safety, Knowledge, Be Careful what you Say Stand b the Constit’n, A True ' end The M - The WW the The Value of Virtue, She Would be a Mason, Evils or Ignorance, The Uselof Timé, Come Down, Hail Columbia S caller, No. 18. Columbia, XVashin n ' . pan! or Libe e American H135, Resistance to Oppression, Lenin Patriotism, , Green Mountain Boys, 5‘} uence of as n, . , America Must be Free, Freedom the 0211!: Ho , Day of Disinthr en , N 0 Alternative but Liber- Carmen Bellicosum, [ty. Sword of Bunker Hill, The Fourth of July, Warren’s Address, A Call to Liberty, , Good F ’ ‘ ‘ m ~ \ Revolution 3101‘}le American Inde ’ nden'ceg. W ' Franklin, onan Sefioflomic Speaker," y . The American P The Same V The Old, Canoe, ’ Room at the T g‘he of Pmre, our m V The Unwr’ftst’en f‘ Claws," The Agar, Fis , ' Ju ‘NotTh Brother, The, 3 St. emard EhfioL': Omincijandifdfih’ns, 3 one 9 ghoodiG §§arelGreau e we a can The-Two meg? , ’ The Present Age; strafing, , Good- t. “V En News? “mm” x ,. . I ' ‘rv‘f\ Better Than Gold, Seed-Time'and Harvest, Invocation to Cold Water Value of ' 6 Work, “ Accept the Situation," Died of Whisky Breakers Ahead, . Clothes Do The Whisky Why is It, Worth Makes the San. Dime Eloquent Speaker, No. 17. , Anatomical Lecture, Anatomica Lecture 2, A Blow in the Dark, , y The Specter Caravan, The True Saviors, Something to Shun, Plea for Ireland, ~ Smile ,Whene‘er you Can, The Wood of Stars, The Housemaid, _ The Goblin Cat, The Modern Fraud Running for Legislature, Our Great Trust, i God Bless our States, Looking Backward, _ ,_ Marion and His Men, -' Lib 't and Union, A lg!) e Plea W0 fe’s Address, Watching for Montgom- The National Ensi God Sate the Union, ' «A; $5. giaw England anther, _ Legfg’Yaweeb Strauss, , A Fable, , i The Tram ’3 Views, .7 Moral tht \ cultural Address, gs ew Scriptures. . ,Wha’ tBecai’ne canine, Th T st «N , a ' e e o Friendship, for ht m hero." v ( . intellehtual and I More! * POWer, _ New ra. of Labor, V Work of Faith, V A D e ‘ r i ' La Dag Aux Camellas, Penalty of~Selfishness, Lights Out, Man, The Last Man, Mind Your Own Business: My Fourth of July Semi. merits, , My Es uimaux Friend Sto 0 the Little Rid My astle in Spain, ‘ Shonny Schwartz, 4 ' The Indian’s Wren 5, Address to Young en, Beautiful Snow, Now is the Time Exhortation to Batriots, 1 He Is Eve here, A Dream 0 Darkness, n’t Make the Rel on the Keysto' A ' Scoirsx'il d! Office, Who are the Free / The on; on, the rim ng tOySave the c' The Good Old Times. Monmouth, Hem - , Mo Desola ' n Self-evident the, .Won‘t you let my Papa Work, Conscience the Bess e Whom Honor The Lords of labor, Early Rising, Pumpernicke! and Pep sch ikofl, , ' , Only a Tramp, Cage Them Time’s Soliloqufi, Find a Way or axe It, The Mosquito Hunt, The Hero. Dime Funny Speaker. N04. 21. Col. Sellers Elucidates, Clo Mit Ter Sthars und ' Lotism, ripes Terence O’Dowd‘s Patri- Lime Kiln Club Oration, Farmer Thornbush on The Fiddler, v [Fools, , Seaso The Regular 11, The School Bo ‘s Lament, 'DotBab on no, Bluggs nee More, Views on Agriculture, One Hundred Years Ago, De ’S rienc'e ob de Re A Dollar er Two On Some More Flash, , Where Mone is King- Professor inkelspé’ing man on theOrlgin , Life, , Konsentrated Wisdum Joseph Brown and the " Mince Pie, John J enkins’s Sermon A Parod on “Tell Me e Winged Winds," A F0 wiry Day, New ythology ,Vuican), The New Mytholo y(Pan,) New fillythologly acchus) I Kin l od Trin ToNighd. New Church Doctrine, W' ’s Watermillion, J Axtell’s Oration, ’ Parson Barebones's An ‘ athema, _, Caesar on Best, Fritz V dher is Made a Mason, , Joan of Are, » Blessings of Farm Lift The People, Thermopyhe, Care ~ Jim Bludso; or, The Pral no , - A Catastrophic Ditty, The Maniac’szDefense. , Woman, God Bless Her! - Be MiSerable, , Dodds term Daubs, ~ .- The Cadi‘s Judgment, i That Calf ' Dime Jolly Speaker, No. 22, Grandfather’s Clock, The XIXth Centu . ' ‘3 Von Littlerfiam, A amllar Lecture on Sclencleq, ‘. 'Old’and ew Time, :Olayfoot‘s S irit The Village chool A Sermon for the Sisters, De Filosofy ob Fun. Disappointed Discoverer, , A Heathen’s Score, : Der Dog und der Lobster; The Young Tramp, Delights o the Season, The De hts 0er lug, ,Jesh Bi ngs’s‘V ewe, Pinata W’at‘s he Matter, , $2: Te pgems In " Done Vot Mothers- - w, . - HelldnflfiellTheFarm, _ , TheTrueBtoz-yot - , 31mm E IlWould I Were e. : Aromatic Ste “ All About aB‘ezy,’ r A Dark do View, ' .Ta uservay ‘ s Shmgll AA ealthy Discourse, Tobi So To Speak, gm 13"}; Grimes, ’ . - (3a , is:I '11“ hnmgg'a. Pilot, Old Gran la The egdler’s Oration 1 ~ Widgm reen’slaetmome , ‘ , out West. ;. Latest Chinese Outrage, / ' Owland the Dawn fiat AWeak C , TheKeMay Be Happy Yet, Orp us. ASide ew, Perseus. Af‘Classie’f , '1 Reformation, The nrry _‘ , Don‘t Give It Away, A Dark We ;' . , “Colored ”:'_ f rtation An AwfulW . An . Effective Ap De Parson Bowed de Seed, “fit?” I‘WW‘ ~ » er. I a A ‘- The New Essay ,On‘Man, A. New Dee] tlon of rInde endenc ' i , y Old show. A tfzwémome. ' theus M érdied, ,v I V); but. peaker, No.33; : Therllianlfefi it of the in, r Peggy cCen . Spraysfrom JoshBillm Sitiwatioug ' :1; v Dar‘s Numn‘ Under 5 u ' ,, ere - -'ADoketo_r’st mbbles, ' . P i 2" nfiznnganfighalrgguut ‘, n’s, e mar ? That Little Baby AGenewine Infomenoe, An Invite? tothe BM ; 0 Crew 3" ‘ 4 Forsale yellnewsdesle' orsen 3W receipt‘ot > -, . on z/l. Wmnmmwmw ,l‘ 4 I I I. . - " . "k, , "- manor; 55.2.2..— 4A g; 3—1 .E, H, :— _y a _ —~_ :5;— .. _.=- =~ ? 1. —‘.‘ -> *3 .-.-_‘ __§%e. T7"'£' A .— ‘F = - 5 é'éisé- '" “:3 - = ¥‘§_- .=%t=_. _: ==§ OCOODCII'QII — " - . '— 55: < - j- , ::—‘“¥‘ 1’ ‘ . é‘i‘i ‘ .5. E < .1an o ove'I o 010‘ o 3 :1 g. g- ‘~3*-: {Six . .-._:. t\ at“: E— __ n 3") r l Adventures of Buffalo Bill. Prom Boyhood to Man a“ l ' hood. 'Deeds of Daring, and Romantic Incidents in the early ‘ J' life of William F. Cody. By Col. Prentiss lngraham. .4 3 The “Ocean Hunters: or, The Chase of the Leviathan. A ' Romance of Perilous Adventure. By Captain Mayne Reid. W An metro large number. V , Adventures of Wild Bill. the Pistol Prince. Remarkable career of. .l. B. Hikok, (kn0wn to the world as “ Wild Bill”), giving the true story of his adventures and acts. By Prentiss Ingraham. -The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By J 08. E. B;—:dge1‘, J r. . Texas Jack. the Mustang King. Thrilling Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro, “ Texas Jack.” By Col. P. Ingraham. Cruise of the Plyaway; or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon. By C. Dunning Clark. ' Roving Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Ruffian.” Brief Scenes from the Life of Joseph E. Badger. Jr. By A. H. Post. The Plyaway Afloat; or,~ Yankee Boys ’Round the World. By C. Dunning Clark. , ‘ ' , . Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adams’ Boy Pard. Scenes ‘ a o m' as a: o ' Mountains. ' ‘By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Y . 10 Snow Trail ; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. A Narra- V tive of Sport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By T. C. Harbaugh.. -1 Old Grizzly“ Adams,'the, Bear Tamer :‘ or, The Monarch of I g the Mountain. 4 By Dr. Frank Powell. -. 1-3 Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits ot the Littleton Gun 1 ‘ r Club. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. . , ' ’ , 13 A Rolling- Stonezf Incidents in the Career on Sea and Land as - Boy and Man. of Col. Prentiss, Ingraham. By Prof.Wm. R. Eyster. ‘ 14 Adrift on the Prairie. and Amateur Hunters on the f ‘ Bums-lo Range. By 011 Coomes. 5 ' f 15 Kit Carson, King of Guides; ‘ ‘ Prairie Trails. By Albert W. Aiken: - - g River Rovers ; 01', Life andTAdventures in the Northwest. _ t By C. Dunning Clark. ' " " _ .. - f ( 17 and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,” ‘ * ’ 8 (Manor Sam 8. Hall.) By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. » , MEG“? Revolver; or, The Littleton Gun Club' on the 19 wi- :10 Range; ByCapt. Frederick Whittaker. ' v esAwake George, the Bo Pioneer; or, Life in “a Log or, Mountain Paths and 20 Then” Dr ' v - ‘ Custer, from. agoon , ‘ or, The Story of General George A. . 8813 Point to the Big Horn. By Capt. F. Whittaker. , s f” gfzggfiggtffi M a. Bo _; or, Why Wild Ned Harris, ,the New . . ~ becam , 2 Edward u gimme}. 6 9 Western Prince of the Road. By . 2 The Boy xiles' 01's ' ' ' . ' .v 33? T30. Harbaugh. , .M‘“ 9” The W8t°hn°g °f Bus-i“ . 23 Paul De, Lacy. the French Beast Charmer: or, New, " ‘ ‘ [York-Boys in the angles. By 0. Dunning Clark. 24111.9 Sword Prince: The Romantic Life of Colonel Monetary, i .(Amemcan Champion-af-ams-l By Captain Fred. Whittaker. '35 Round the Com Punter. Snow-Bound at “Freeze-out camp.” \ r A Tale of Roving 06 and his H nter Paras. By J as. E. Badger, Jr. , 36, Snow-Shoe Tum: 01‘. .NGW Ol‘k Boys in the Wilderness. A ' Narrative of Sport and Peril in Maine. By 1T. C. Harbaugh. v ' 27' Yellow Hair,theE.Boy;3 fN b . ’ , ven urous‘Career of ddie urgesso 6 tasks. By Col. Ingraham. ‘ ,‘ '38 The Chase of the Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. , . . ‘ :39 The Fortune-Hunter; or. Roving Joe as Miner, Cow-Boy, 7' Trapner and Hunter. By‘A. H. Poét. ‘ __ ' _ V -. §0>Walt Ferguson’s cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic sea. Byf i‘r. ‘ C. Dunning Clark. _ ‘ ' i ' 81 The Bo NOW READY AND IN: PRESS. > '34 ‘36 3'? of Wild Adrenture in the Life of the Boy Ranger of the Rocky » 46 The Condor Killers; or, Wild Adventures at cabin-l,'1nbldentsand Adventures in t e Backwoods. By Ed. Willett. , Chief at thePawnees. The (Ad. , 1 Great White Stag and Camp and , " By Captain - ' Index-ink Whittaker \ soda-3 enHew a Page and a Fool Saved a l .‘C'......'..."’.. \ 32 White Beaver, the Indian Medicine Chief: or, The Be: mantic and Adventurous Life of Dr. D. Frank Powell, known on the - "BOrder as “ Fancy Frank,” “ Iron Face," etc. By 001. P. Ingrabdm. 7 Captain Ralph, the Young Explorer; or, The-Centipede Among the Fl< es. By C. Dunning Clark. \ . The Young- Bear Hunters. A Story of the Rape and Minions of a Party of Boys in the Wilds of Michigan. By Morris 35 The Lost Boy Whalers ; or, In the Shadow of the North Pole. ’ By T. C. Harbaugh. , " y » j Smart Sign, the Lad witha level Head: or, Two Boys who were “Bmmced.” By Edward Willett. , Old Tar Knuckle and His Boy Chums; or,lThe Monsters 3 _ of the Esquimaux Border. By Roger Starbuck. I ‘ . , 38 The Settler’s Son; or, Adventures in Wilderness and Clear; , I. ' ing. Bv Edward S. Ellis. ‘ . v " 39. Night-Hawk George, and His Daring Deeds \ard Adventures 5', “in the Wilds of the South and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways of the "Lone Coast. By, K V Captain Frederick Whittaker. ‘ i I 41 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York Boys in Buenoe Ayn-es. ‘ By T. C. Harbaugh. ‘ x A 42 The Young Land-Lubber; 7 or, Prince Porter’s First Bruise. f v, ' By C. Dunning Clark. v ‘ . r "‘ {13 Bronco ,Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. ' ' , 1 . or, Winter in the Woods. By Barry ,. 2”“ 33 44 The Snow Hunters; De Forrest. . ‘ _ .. 45 Jack; Harry and Tom. the Three Champion Brothers; or, ; ' Adventures of Three Brave Boys with the Tattooed Pirate. By C ‘ Captain Frederick Whittaker. ' * ' " "i ,,v the. Equator. l *- -By T. C. Harbaugh. _ - L I v 47 The, Boy Coral Fishers: or, The Bea-Cavern 5; Roger Starbuck. ‘ ~ - ‘ - ‘ 48 Dick, the Stowaway; By Charles Morris. . g . _ - 49 Tip'I'r-essell. the Floater: Or, Fortunes and. Mistermnesog v. ' the'Mississiopin By Edward Willett. I ; ‘ , ’ _ ‘ . ‘r, 50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie”, (Chas. ‘E. V Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. r ,. = = ’ 51 The Colorado Boys: or,yLife on an Indigo Plantation. By; 1 Joseph E. Badger, Jr. - “ ' . ' ‘ ; 52 Honest Harry; or, The Country BoyvAdrift ‘iuihs City. I By Charles Morris. . , ; 53 The Boy Detectives: or, The YoungCulifornians in Shanghai. . g . 7 By T. C. Harbaugh. . ‘ . / g .rj, y 2 54. Joe, the Mysterious Plaiusman. By 001-12"qu . ' ~Ingt‘ahaun. ‘ " ' v V 55 Ha. Bowers, the Sailor-Boy Magician. . By S. W. 58 No ’3 Boys: or, Life Among the Gipsies. By’JI. ML'Ho'fl" -_ " ‘ ‘ ‘ _ V ' A. 57 we» Menagerie Hunter: or, Fanny Hobart, the , V . Queen. By Major H. Grenville, “ Sea Gull.” \ i * “ ‘ I ' r 58 Lame Tim. the Mule Boy of the Mines; or, Lite Amongtbe , Black Diamonds. By Charles Morris. . , . V 59 Lud Lionheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. ‘ By Roger Starbnok. H ‘ 60 The Young Trail Hunters; or, New York Boys in Grind: ' , Land. By T. C. Harhaugh. ‘ _ I . _ 61 The Merry Rangers. By C. Dunning Clark. I M , ' A‘Neu; Issue Every “Week. ' ‘ 1‘ a' .15 Burma’s Bor’s Liam: is for sale by all News’dealerg, he cant: » 7 per copy, cream by mail on receipt of six cents each. -, - . I W lemm'm' Poemsnnns, , , ’ , » '1 = " 98 William Street, New Yerkg" or, A- Yankee ’BOy’sv j, l k a w 7. y I . I Americangopyright Novels and the Cree/1n of Foreign], Novelists, Unabridged, V " ‘ ‘ ‘ The Cheapest Library Ever Published! {The Masked I; ide ' or. Will She Ma ' ~ 2/ erase:“swelegzo.wel . s “y _ l a o e“ or, ‘0 ' mean We 13- ' . w "/ hearts B Wm. Mason Turner, M. D B Y i . 3 The filrl Wife ' or, The True and the F' lse. By Hartley T. Can’ipbell. S a tar‘ 1 Str . , _ Arabella Southworth. LnPg y ange .5, Bessie Raynor, the ' ., By William M’ son “WHITE mg a A l I ‘ » e core. ‘arx, we or Duchess i t, T te'ofslierselt‘. B .Sara;ClaJ’rton n .4 A’ Brave .Heart; 01‘, Work Gin-if the Quicksands of; Life. ' or, ’ 37' A” alight'er of ' ve; or, Blinded by Love. ’8 ItBy Mfg} ReedtOmweliS‘ i Pl) U ear 0 our 4 or a r llis‘ Lo . .‘ By Arabella Southwhrth.’ y ve Gatloue in the Worl ' or The You Man‘s : r Ward-.‘By the author ,of z‘Cfiftbn;’98;‘Pl'ide‘ , . v and Passmn " etc. «I . . , ~10 ANPnir 01’ Gray Eyes; or, The Emerald - _ y. ecklace. By Rose Kemie 11. Entangled; or, A Dangerous Game. By v . Henrietta Thackera . I lfirllis Lawml Wi e; or, Myra, the Child of r ‘ ,. . Adoption. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. , .13. Medea , the Little unkeress or, The Naval adet’sWooin . y Corinne ushman. ‘ . 171 Why 1 Married 1 ;or, The Woman in , 15 AGr a ByFSara Claxtog.t in y, r- aee' or, u e World. B ,, Hartley .Gamljbell. . y Q ,16 Trust Her 0t; or.A True Knight. By _ r V are-t Leicester. -‘ 17 A Lloyal LoVer or, The Last of the Grims— ' 18 is a'1«lof‘Agfibgl‘lia B I .. I . r e . Mrs M BeedCrOWell. y . ’ . ary A 19 The Broken Betrothal or Love versus ’ ’ "Hate. By Mary Grace aiming. ' 210 orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, The ., 7 Lost Heir. By e Penna. 91 Now and Forever ;» or, Why Did She Mar- .- . -’ r Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. * 22 T e Brideot‘ an Actor; or. Driven from i Home. B the author of “Aloneinthe World," ' : , “ Clifton, ' etc. , N ‘33 Leap Year; or, Why She Proposed. By Sara : ’ .. n' ’ ‘ ;_i.". “34* For Face Was Her Fortune. By Elea- nor Blaine. ' ‘ a 25; only a Schoolmietress; or, Her Untold " Secret. By Arabella Southworth. 26~Witltout a “cart; or, Walking on the :1 Brink. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. .27 Was She a Coquette? or, A Strange Courtship. , By Henrietta, eray. . ’28s « bi! Chase; or, TherGambler’s Wife. By rs. Ann .S'tephens. BBB-ornoenearsake; or. Saved From Him. a: x. n“; j _l , > 'v 30 ehonégeuet lrl; or,AMinion of Money. at A? (Funnel. ' ’ an Iron ‘win. ’ « rr age 0 , , e . ' “‘32 M A‘D'et “’n i; n no ' l a ; , .a _ e rm: an or,- .:‘ r . a; ' lBlyArabella owl-5t. . 33 The Three Sisters; r. The Mystery of a rm. ,nt: Floating.- . . . '81 A Blur age of Convenience; or,Was ‘ ; .1108Count. By Saraplaxtow’ ‘ v 355%; nudist Hts" or. The lhthhop‘Pfide. 136" ,Are. e1:ng ride. or..-The can at His 9' 'gy Sguthwort , r ' 0,7 The Georgi-y Camn; or. is not Gold- .38‘ 315‘ n A a n or; Trust Her Not. 13 V U ,_ Soufiiwortli. - » . _. y Winn; or, A Yaw Girl‘s Good Name. 13? Jacob Abarbanell, ( z. 419151,, ac Marry; cghlmé‘sinonds. "41.!!! u lievotlon or, Love ‘ainst the- w . By'zAlice 313mm ’ A8 ‘ ' .413. Beatrice, the Beautl mix; or. His' Sec0nd @WAmbollaBputawo .» , ., ., . as e , eve Secret; or, TheRlval Halt- ._. hyacmc'loxton' 1 ._ $41116 0111 laughter; or, Brother against *y;. .. an. .Alioa emine- ,, ~ ‘- , ’45 “nor in den Fog; or, Love At AllOdds. ' ACT? Arfiiiilfs" mw h; d Cl e. .0; recs or, n or a cud. ' ’ r m By Mrs. Mgr; A. genie); . {T47 Because 0 Loved Him; or, How wm “4’68 {fining ByfAHbermfi‘m' J tte? Re ‘ » 4 co ese or,ea.nne s a- _. _ mgr “By 8%.Sherwgod. p " v 3-19 lilo Heat-vs Mistress; or Love at First ' ' - Sight." By Arabella, Sentiment . “ Prisoner of , . "1360‘ The or, ’. Ball A. 13m Cuban Heiress ‘ . .‘lntrease. ByMrs. ry‘ ' ' ' “.1 frw “Ion, Girls or. The Bride of an I = 9- .‘By/Afigememiné. ‘ ' ' " 35% The Win e Manon or or.Rieldn All w” W fertiliser-g (ByMraMagyBgedCx-cwell? 53 Agnes goose, the Actress or.The Ro- “33900 0 a Ruby Ring. .By illiam Mason . ‘ a r I, I; \. a 5'7 A. '58 The ~97 Hugh Melton. By Kat «99 Marjorie Bruce’s. Lovers. ’ ' 1 l The: 54 One W‘ornan’s Heart; or. Saved from the I Street. Byb'reorge S. Kaime. I 55 She Did Not Love Him; or, Stooping to .ry Conquer. By Arabella Southvvorth. o6 Love-Mad; or .Betrothed Married. Divorced nd —-——. BV Win. Mason'l‘urner,lll. D. prove Girl; or, Sunshine .at Last. By Alice Fleming. . ' llbon Mask; or, The Mysterious ' Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 09 A ‘Vidow’s Wfles;~0r, A Bitter Vengeance. Rachel Bernhardt. ‘ ' 60 Cecil’s Deceit; or The Diamond‘Legacy. By Mrs.'Jenme Davis urton; 61 A IVicked Heart; “or, The False and the True. By Sara Claxton. 62' The Maniac Bride; or, The Dead Secret of Hollow Ash Hall. By Margaret Blount. 63 The Creole Sisters; or The Mystery of the Perrys. By Mrs. Anna E. orter. 64 What Jealousy Bid; or, The Heir of Worsley Grange. By Alice Fleming. 65 The Wife’s Secret; or, ’Twixt Cup and L1 . B Col. Juan Lewis. 66 A rot er’s Sin; or, Flora‘s Forgiveness. By Rachel Bernhardt. 6’7 Forbidden Bans; or, Alma’s Disguised Prince. By Arabella. Southworth. 68 Weavers and \Vett; or “Love That Hath v Us In His Net.” By Miss M’. E. Braddon. 69 Ca. 1119; or, The Fate of a Coquette. By ' A exandre Dumas. ‘ '70 The Two 0r hang. By D’Enery. 71 M gogng “‘0. By My Young Wife‘s us an . 72 The Two Widows. .By Annie Thomas. 73 Rose Michel; or The '1‘ Girl. By Maud H11 n. . 7 4 Cecil Castlemaine’s ‘ e c; or, The Story of a Broidered Shield. B ui a . 75 T1118 Black Lady of unak. By J. 8. Le anu » ’16 Charlotte Tern M. B Mrs. Rowson. 7’! Christian oak c ’s istake. By the author of ” John 11 fax, Gentleman," etc. 78 My Young Husband; or, A Confusion in I the Family. By Myself. 79 A ueen Amongst Women. B& the , out or of “The Cost of Her Love," “ ilded Sin,” “Dora Theme.” etc, etc. , 80 Her Ezra and Master. By Florence 81 Lucy Temple, Sister of Charlotte. 82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. I 83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie Thomas. 84 The Laurel Bush. By the author of “John Halifax, Gentleman." . ' 85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. ‘ 86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot. 87 The Romance ot‘a Poor Young Man. By Octave Feuillet. . 88 A Terrible Deed; or, All for Gold. By I EmmaGa n- ones. ‘ 89 A Gilded $111. By the author'of “Dora Thorn, e . I , . ~ 90 TIIIIQ Author’s Daughter. By ‘Mary ' ow . film'l'he Jilt.- By Charles Reade. rials of a Factory .92 Eileen Alanna; or, the Dawning of the Day. Dennis O’Sullivan. ’ '93 Liyvvs'vlctory. By B. L. Fairieon. 94 The Quiet Heart. Bfi Mrs. 011 hant. By 96, ettlee Arnold. rs. Mars . l 96. auntcd Hearts. or. The Broken .Be- trothal. Bv Rachel embardt I ‘ I , harln'e King. By Miss unlock. 3 By Mary Patrick 100 Through," Fire and Water. By Fred- ’ erick T111301}. / ' 101 Hannah. By Mss Mullock. . Wofll anon. Bv Charles Reade. 103 Av expert! o‘need. By‘ErskineBo d. 104 sundown on the Snow. By B. . 98 Alice Leormant. Foo .r v #01:. . . 105 he Great Hoggafly Enameled. By . W; M. Thackeray. 106,1l‘rom Dreams to [Wakingu By E. ' nBinton. 107‘ oor 10 it! By F. W. Robinson. . ' 108 The Sad ortunes t‘the Rev. Amos Barton. By George 0t. 1.09 Broad-and-Cheene and Kisses. By B. L. Fa eon. , . _ '110 e Wandering Heir. By Charles Broth er’s Bet; or, Within Six By Emilie Flygare Carlen. BY MiSS M111 '111 The ' Weeks. 112 A Hero. ' / .113 Paul and Virginia. From the French of Bernardln De St. Pierre. ‘ . , 114 ’Twas In Trafalgar’e Buy. By Wal- ter Besant and James 'Rice. _ 115 The! Maid of Killeena. By William 116.}!etiy. By Henry Kingsley. 159 Lad ’ Sec wayside (gross or, The Raid of GUM, ByCaptain , an. .1 V I . , r l y i .__. ..... 118 The Vicar'of Wakefield: By Oliver ' Goldsmith' ‘ : 1'19 Bland Mohan. By Annie Thomas. 120 Thaddeus of‘Warsaw. .By Miss Jane Porter. 121 The King of No-Land. _By B. Far- ._ eon. . , 122 Love], the Widower. By W. M. Thack- e1 ay. . _ . . 123 An Island Pearl. By B. L’Earjedu. 124 Cousin Phillis. , ., 125 Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada. By Ed- ward Bulwer (Lord Lytton). ‘ , 126 When the Shi ) (Tomes Home. By Walter Besant and ames Rice. . . 127 One ot‘the Family. By James Payn. 128 The Birthright. B Mrs. Gore. 129 Motherless; or. The armer's Sweetheart.- B Colonel Prentiss Ingnaham. , . 130 omeless; or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. By Albert W. Aiken. ‘ 131 Sister against Sister; or, The Rivalry c2 Hearts. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 132 Sold for Gold; or, Almost Lost. By Mrs. . V. Victor.‘ v ' ‘ l * 133 Lord Roth’s Sin; or. Betrothed at the Cradle. B Mrs. Georgiana. Dickens. . _ 134 He ove Her ’l By Bartley T. Caznp~ 1 3 5 .Slnned Against; or, Almost in His Povver. 1% Lillian Lovejoa.” 136' as She His ire? By Mrs. Mary Reed. Crowell. . I 137 The Village on the Cllfl'. By Miss .Thaokerafy. r ‘ aleria! or, The Broken Troth- B Margaret Blount. 139 Nfargaret Graham. By G. P. R. James. 140 Without Mercy. B, BartleyTCampbell. 141 Honor Bound; or, aledtc Secrecy. By . Lillian Lovejoy.‘ , 142 Fleeing from Love. By Mrs. Harriet ,rv n . , 143 Abdgucted; or. A Wicked Woman’s Work. By Rett Winwood. 1 144 a iStrange Marriage; or, John Foster‘s fees 9 . By Lillian Loyejog. 145 Two Girl’s Lives. y Mrs. Mary Reed 146 A esperate Venture or, For Lave’s Own Sake. By Arabella Sou worth. . 147 The War of Hearts. By Corinne (lush. 148 Which Was the Woman“? or, Strangely Mlsjudged. By Claxton.~- f 149 An Ambitions {Earl};I o . SheWoum Be An Actress. By Frances elen Davenport. ‘ 150 Love Lord of- All; or, In Her own at. Last. By Alice May Fleming. ‘ . ' 151 A’Wlld Girl; or, Love's Glamour. By Corinne Cushman. ’ "I . 52 A Man’s Sacrifice; or, At WarfWith r . Himself. ,By Harriet Irving. _ " ; 153 Did She Sin? or 'A Man’s: Desperate , Game. By Mrs. Mary Beed Crowell. J V 154 He Loves Me Not! or, A Cruel'Faleei . hood. By Lillian Lovejoy." , ; ’ ‘. 1" WI nin Ways ' "or, Kitty Atherton‘a- . M Dongle Trogth. By nirgaretmoum. , 1 56 What She Coot film; or, Crooked'Patba. By Arabella Southworth. 15'? A Girl’s Heart. By Bett Winn-cod. 158 A Bitter Mistake' or, A“ Young Girl‘s» Folly. By Agnes Mary Bhelton. re By the Late Mrs. 160'Bu in anoint or AFa’lrMarty‘ "r. By, ‘ Lillign lgvejoy. 3 ’ » ' ~ ' r ,1 61 “Pearl ofPeurls; or, Cloudsand Wm... ‘»ByA.P.Morris.Jr. ’ Jr, 162 A Fateflll Game; onwmmm. ‘ ’ BySarhClaxton. I ~., », f 163 The (‘reole Couch”; or. Famous Fair. ‘ By Philip S. Warns. . ‘ _. » 16' A Stran a Girl. A‘New D Story. BygAlbert W. Aiken. .me A Man’s sin. By BettWinwood. ‘ ~ ‘ ‘ 167 The Hand 'of Fate; ’ ,The of." . Two Lives. By Arabella Southworth. V 168; Two Fair Women. By Wm. Mll‘urnqr. 169 'l.‘ '11! led Thrall, trove ’01- One ngaix’i’s Error. By ,Ii‘illlian Lovejgy. ’ ._ , Grace H V pine A new have every week. 170 Blind aantitrlmr.v.’tvz Secret. By Mary , 9 Tan Wivnnnm Insular is for sale’by all News" r dealers five cents per copy,” cr‘aent‘hy'mail - , reel to six cents each. . , . _V p , 'BEADLE AND wins. Publishers. ' . u .t I" ‘_ .r 7 V ‘. I ‘ < 4 J ‘ y‘ I . /. fig. Foe FIVE CENTS! 164 A Scm‘mn Onion]; ,1»... .y'». Mad Marriagg ByMrs. Georgiana Di __ _,_ . :x . \ 98 Wilhom meannes- York! 3 J .‘Ilelen’s Vow E grill}; Mother‘s: ' ’