CHAPTER XIX

Nature was kind to the little pilgrim in his extremity, and kept his senses sealed in grateful slumber till the birds had sung their matin song, and the sun had risen high in the heavens.

Bobby woke with a start, and sprang to his feet. For a moment he did not realize where he was, or remember the exciting incidents of the previous evening. He felt refreshed by his deep slumber, and came out of it as vigorous as though he had slept in his bed at home. Rubbing his eyes, he stared about him at the tall pines whose foliage canopied his bed, and his identity was soon restored to him. He was Bobby Bright—but Bobby Bright in trouble. He was not the little merchant, but the little fugitive fleeing from the prison to which he had been doomed.

It did not take him long to make his toilet, which was the only advantage of his primitive style of lodging. His first object was to examine his position, and ascertain in what direction he should continue his flight. He could not go ahead, as he had intended, for the sheet of water was an impassable barrier. Leaving the dense forest, he came to a marsh, beyond which was the wide creek he had seen in the night. It was salt water, and he reasoned that it could not extend a great way inland. His only course was to follow it till he found means of crossing it.

Following the direction of the creek he kept near the margin of the wood till he came to a public road. He had some doubts about trusting himself out of the forest, even for a single moment; so he seated himself upon a rock to argue the point. If any one should happen to come along, he was almost sure of furnishing a clew to his future movements, if not of being immediately captured.

This was a very strong argument, but there was a stronger one upon the other side. He had eaten nothing since dinner on the preceding day, and he began to feel faint for the want of food. On the other side of the creek he saw a pasture which looked as though it might afford him a few berries; and he was on the point of taking to the road, when he heard the rumbling of a wagon in the distance.

His heart beat with apprehension. Perhaps it was some officer of the institution in search of him. At any rate it was some one who had come from the vicinity of the Reform School, and who had probably heard of his escape. As it came nearer, he heard the jingling of bells; it was the baker. How he longed for a loaf of his bread, or some of the precious gingerbread he carried in his cart! Hunger tempted him to run the risk of exposure. He had money; he could buy cakes and bread; and perhaps the baker had a kind heart, and would befriend him in his distress. The wagon was close at hand.

"Now or never," thought he; but this time it was notnow. The risk was too great. If he failed now, two years of captivity were before him; and as for the hunger, he could grin and bear it for a while.

"Now or never;" but this time it was escape now or never; and he permitted the baker to pass without hailing him.

He waited half an hour, and then determined to take the road till he had crossed the creek. The danger was great, but the pangs of hunger urged him on. He was sure there were berries in the pasture, and with a timid step, carefully watching before and behind to insure himself against surprise, he crossed the bridge. But then a new difficulty presented itself. There was a house within ten rods of the bridge, which he must pass, and to do so would expose him to the most imminent peril. He was on the point of retreating, when a man came out of the house, and approached him. What should he do? It was a trying moment. If he ran, the act would expose him to suspicion. If he went forward, the man might have already received a description of him, and arrest him.

He chose the latter course. The instinct of his being was to do everything in a straightforward manner, and this probably prompted his decision.

"Good morning, sir," said he boldly to the man.

"Good morning. Where are you travelling?"

This was a hard question. He did not know where he was travelling; besides, even in his present difficult position, he could not readily resort to a lie.

"Down here a piece," he replied.

"Travelled far to-day?"

"Not far. Good morning, sir;" and Bobby resumed his walk.

"I say, boy, suppose you tell me where you are going;" and the man came close to him, and deliberately surveyed him from head to foot.

"I can hardly tell you," replied Bobby, summoning courage for the occasion.

"Well, I suppose not," added the man, with a meaning smile.

Bobby felt his strength desert him as he realized that he was suspected of being a runaway from the Reform School. That smile on the man's face was the knell of hope; and for a moment he felt a flood of misery roll over his soul. But the natural elasticity of his spirits soon came to his relief, and he resolved not to give up the ship, even if he had to fight for it.

"I am in a hurry, so I shall have to leave you."

"Not just yet, young man. Perhaps, as you don't know where you are going, you may remember what your name is," continued the man, good naturedly.

There was a temptation to give a false name; but as it was so strongly beaten into our hero that the truth is better than a falsehood, he held his peace.

"Excuse me, sir, but I can't stop to talk now."

"In a hurry? Well, I dare say you are. I suppose there is no doubt but you are Master Robert Bright."

"Not the least, sir; I haven't denied it yet, and I am not ashamed of my name," replied Bobby, with a good deal of spirit.

"That's honest; I like that."

"'Honesty is the best policy,'" added Bobby.

"That's cool for a rogue, anyhow. You ought to thought of that afore."

"I did."

"And stole the money?"

"I didn't. I never stole a penny in my life."

"Come, I like that."

"It is the truth."

"But they won't believe it over to the Reform School," laughed the man.

"They will one of these days, perhaps."

"You are a smart youngster; but I don't know as I can make five dollars any easier than by taking you back where you come from."

"Yes, you can," replied Bobby, promptly.

"Can I?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By letting me go."

"Eh; you talk flush. I suppose you mean to give me your note, payable when the Kennebec dries up."

"Cash on the nail," replied Bobby. "You look like a man with a heart in your bosom,"—Bobby stole this passage from "The Wayfarer."

"I reckon I have. The time hasn't come yet when Sam Ray could see a fellow-creature in distress and not help him out. But to help a thief off——"

"We will argue that matter," interposed Bobby. "I can prove to you beyond a doubt that I am innocent of the crime charged upon me."

"You don't look like a bad boy, I must say."

"But, Mr. Ray, I'm hungry; I haven't eaten a mouthful since yesterday noon."

"Thunder! You don't say so!" exclaimed Sam Ray. "I never could bear to see a man hungry, much more a boy; so come along to my house and get something to eat, and we will talk about the other matter afterwards."

Sam Ray took Bobby to the little old house in which he dwelt; and in a short time his wife, who expressed her sympathy for the little fugitive in the warmest terms, had placed an abundant repast upon the table. Our hero did ample justice to it, and when he had finished he felt like a new creature.

"Now, Mr. Ray, let me tell you my story," said Bobby.

"I don't know as it's any use. Now you have eat my bread and butter, I don't feel like being mean to you. If anybody else wants to carry you back, they may; I won't."

"But you shall hear me;" and Bobby proceeded to deliver his "plain, unvarnished tale."

When he had progressed but a little way in the narrative, the noise of an approaching vehicle was heard. Sam looked out of the window, as almost everybody does in the country when a carriage passes.

"By thunder! It's the Reform School wagon!" exclaimed he. "This way, boy!" and the good-hearted man thrust him into his chamber, bidding him get under the bed.

The carriage stopped at the house; but Sam evaded a direct reply, and the superintendent—for it was he—proceeded on his search.

"Heaven bless you, Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Bobby, when he came out of the chamber, as the tears of gratitude coursed down his cheeks.

"O, you will find Sam Ray all right," said he, warmly pressing Bobby's proffered hand. "I ain't quite a heathen, though some folks around here think so."

"You are an angel!"

"Not exactly," laughed Sam.

Our hero finished his story, and confirmed it by exhibiting his account book and some other papers which he had retained. Sam Ray was satisfied, and vowed that if ever he saw Tom Spicer he would certainly "lick" him for his sake.

"Now, sonny, I like you; I will be sworn you are a good fellow; and I mean to help you off. So just come along with me. I make my living by browsing round, hunting and fishing a little, and doing an odd job now and then. You see, I have got a good boat down the creek, and I shall just put you aboard and take you anywhere you have a mind to go."

"May Heaven reward you!" cried Bobby, almost overcome by this sudden and unexpected kindness.

"O, I don't want no reward; only when you get to be a great man—and I am dead sure you will be a great man—just think now and then of Sam Ray, and it's all right."

"I shall remember you with gratitude as long as I live."

Sam Ray took his gun on his shoulder, and Bobby the box of provisions which Mrs. Ray had put up, and they left the house. At the bridge they got into a little skiff, and Sam took the oars. After they had passed a bend in the creek which concealed them from the road, Bobby felt secure from further molestation.

Sam pulled about two miles down the creek, where it widened into a broad bay, near the head of which was anchored a small schooner.

"Now, my hearty, nothing short of Uncle Sam's whole navy can get you away from me," said Sam, as he pulled alongside the schooner.

"You have been very kind to me."

"All right, sonny. Now tumble aboard."

Bobby jumped upon the deck of the little craft and Sam followed him, after making fast the skiff to the schooner's moorings.

In a few minutes the little vessel was standing down the bay with "a fresh wind and a flowing sheet." Bobby, who had never been in a sail boat before, was delighted, and in no measured terms expressed his admiration of the working of the trim little craft.

"Now, sonny, where shall we go?" asked Sam, as they emerged from the bay into the broad ocean.

"I don't know," replied Bobby. "I want to get back to Boston."

"Perhaps I can put you aboard of some coaster bound there."

"That will do nicely."

"I will head towards Boston, and if I don't overhaul anything, I will take you there myself."

"Is this boat big enough to go so far?"

"She'll stand anything short of a West India hurricane. You ain't afeard, are you?"

"O, no; I like it."

The big waves now tossed the little vessel up and down like a feather, and the huge seas broke upon the bow, deluging her deck with floods of water. Bobby had unlimited confidence in Sam Ray, and felt as much at home as though he had been "cradled upon the briny deep." There was an excitement in the scene which accorded with his nature, and the perils which he had so painfully pictured on the preceding night were all born into the most lively joys.

They ate their dinners from the provision box; Sam lighted his pipe, and many a tale he told of adventure by sea and land. Bobby felt happy, and almost dreaded the idea of parting with his rough but good-hearted friend. They were now far out at sea, and the night was coming on.

"Now, sonny, you had better turn in and take a snooze; you didn't rest much last night."

"I am not sleepy; but there is one thing I will do;" and Bobby drew from his secret receptacle his roll of bills.

"Put them up, sonny," said Sam.

"I want to make you a present of ten dollars."

"You can't do it."

"Nay, but to please me."

"No, sir!"

"Well, then, let me send it to your good wife."

"You can't do that, nuther," replied Sam, gazing earnestly at a lumber-laden schooner ahead of him.

"You must; your good heart made you lose five dollars, and I insist upon making it up to you."

"You can't do it."

"I shall feel bad if you don't take it. You see I have twenty dollars here, and I would like to give you the whole of it."

"Not a cent, sonny. I ain't a heathen. That schooner ahead is bound for Boston, I reckon."

"I shall be sorry to part with you, Mr. Ray."

"Just my sentiment. I hain't seen a youngster afore for many a day that I took a fancy to, and I hate to let you go."

"We shall meet again."

"I hope so."

"Please to take this money."

"No;" and Sam shook his head so resolutely that Bobby gave up the point.

As Sam had conjectured, the lumber schooner was bound to Boston. Her captain readily agreed to take our hero on board, and he sadly bade adieu to his kind friend.

"Good by, Mr. Ray," said Bobby, as the schooner filled away. "Take this to remember me by."

It was his jackknife; but Sam did not discover the ten dollar bill, which was shut beneath the blade, till it was too late to return it.

Bobby did not cease to wave his hat to Sam till his little craft disappeared in the darkness.

Fortunately for Bobby, the wind began to blow very heavily soon after he went on board of the lumber schooner, so that the captain was too much engaged in working his vessel to ask many questions. He was short handed, and though our hero was not much of a sailor he made himself useful to the best of his ability. Though the wind was heavy, it was not fair; and it was not till the third morning after his parting with Sam Ray that the schooner arrived off Boston Light. The captain then informed him that, as the tide did not favor him, he might not get up to the city for twenty-four hours; and, if he was in a hurry, he would put him on board a pilot boat which he saw standing up the channel.

"Thank you, captain; you are very kind, but it would give you a great deal of trouble," said Bobby.

"None at all. We must wait here till the tide turns; so we have nothing better to do."

"I should be very glad to get up this morning."

"You shall, then;" and the captain ordered two men to get out the jolly boat.

"I will pay my passage now, if you please."

"That is paid."

"Paid?"

"I should say you had worked your passage. You have done very well, and I shall not charge you anything."

"I expected to pay my passage, captain; but if you think I have done enough to pay it, why I have nothing to say, only that I am very much obliged to you."

"You ought to be a sailor, young man; you were cut out for one."

"I like the sea, though I never saw it till a few weeks since. But I suppose my mother would not let me go to sea."

"I suppose not; mothers are always afraid of salt water."

By this time the jolly boat was alongside; and bidding the captain adieu, he jumped into it, and the men pulled him to the pilot boat, which had come up into the wind at the captain's hail. Bobby was kindly received on board, and in a couple of hours landed at the wharf in Boston.

With a beating heart he made his way up into Washington Street. He felt strangely; his cheeks seemed to tingle, for he was aware that the imputation of dishonesty was fastened upon him. He could not doubt but that the story of his alleged crime had reached the city, and perhaps gone to his friends in Riverdale. How his poor mother must have wept to think her son was a thief! No; she never could have thought that.Sheknew he would not steal, if no one else did. And Annie Lee—would she ever smile upon him again? Would she welcome him to her father's house so gladly as she had done in the past? He could bring nothing to establish his innocence but his previous character. Would not Mr. Bayard frown upon him? Would not even Ellen be tempted to forget the service he had rendered her?

Bobby had thought of all these things before—on his cold, damp bed in the forest, in the watches of the tempestuous night on board the schooner. But now, when he was almost in the presence of those he loved and respected, they had more force, and they nearly overwhelmed him.

"I am innocent," he repeated to himself, "and why need I fear? My good Father in heaven will not let me be wronged."

Yet he could not overcome his anxiety; and when he reached the store of Mr. Bayard, he passed by, dreading to face the friend who had been so kind to him. He could not bear even to be suspected of a crime by him.

"Now or never," said he, as he turned round.

"I will know my fate at once, and then make the best of it."

Mustering all his courage, he entered the store. Mr. Timmins was not there; so he was spared the infliction of any ill-natured remark from him.

"Hallo, Bobby!" exclaimed the gentlemanly salesman, whose acquaintance he had made on his first visit.

"Good morning, Mr. Bigelow," replied Bobby with as much boldness as he could command.

"I didn't know as I should ever see you again. You have been gone a long while."

"Longer than usual," answered Bobby, with a blush; for he considered the remark of the salesman as an allusion to his imprisonment. "Is Mr. Bayard in?"

"He is—in his office."

Bobby's feet would hardly obey the mandate of his will, and with a faltering step he entered the private room of the bookseller. Mr. Bayard was absorbed in the perusal of the morning paper, and did not observe his entrance. With his heart up in his throat, and almost choking him, he stood for several minutes upon the threshold. He almost feared to speak, dreading the severe frown with which he expected to be received. Suspense, however, was more painful than condemnation, and he brought his resolution up to the point.

"Mr. Bayard," said he, in faltering tones.

"Bobby!" exclaimed the bookseller, dropping his paper upon the floor, and jumping upon his feet as though an electric current had passed through his frame.

Grasping our hero's hand, he shook it with so much energy that, under any other circumstances, Bobby would have thought it hurt him. He did not think so now.

"My poor Bobby! I am delighted to see you!" continued Mr. Bayard.

Bobby burst into tears, and sobbed like a child, as he was. The unexpected kindness of this reception completely overwhelmed him.

"Don't cry, Bobby; I know all about it;" and the tender-hearted bookseller wiped away his tears. "It was a stroke of misfortune; but it is all right now."

But Bobby could not help crying, and the more Mr. Bayard attempted to console him, the more he wept.

"I am innocent, Mr. Bayard," he sobbed.

"I know you are, Bobby; and all the world knows you are."

"I am ruined now; I shall never dare to hold my head up again."

"Nonsense, Bobby; you will hold your head the higher. You have behaved like a hero."

"I ran away from the State Reform School, sir. I was innocent, and I would rather have died than stayed there."

"I know all about it, my young friend. Now dry your tears, and we will talk it all over."

Bobby blew and sputtered a little more; but finally he composed himself, and took a chair by Mr. Bayard's side. The bookseller then drew from his pocket a ponderous document, with a big official seal upon it, and exhibited it to our hero.

"Do you see this, Bobby? It is your free and unconditional pardon."

"Sir! Why——"

"It will all end well, you may depend."

Bobby was amazed. His pardon? But it would not restore his former good name. He felt that he was branded as a felon. It was not mercy, but justice, that he wanted.

"Truth is mighty, and will prevail," continued Mr. Bayard; "and this document restores your reputation."

"I can hardly believe that."

"Can't you? Hear my story then. When I read in one of the Maine papers the account of your misfortune, I felt that you had been grossly wronged. You were coupled with that Tom Spicer, who is the most consummate little villain I ever saw, and I understood your situation. Ah, Bobby, your only mistake was in having anything to do with that fellow."

"I left him at Brunswick because he began to behave badly; but he joined me again at Augusta. He had spent nearly all his money, and did not know what to do. I pitied him, and meant to do something to help him out of the scrape."

"Generous as ever! I have heard all about this before."

"Indeed; who told you?"

"Tom Spicer himself."

"Tom?" asked Bobby, completely mystified.

"Yes, Tom; you see, when I heard about your trouble, Squire Lee and myself——"

"Squire Lee? Does he know about it?"

"He does; and you may depend upon it, he thinks more highly of you than ever before. He and I immediately went down to Augusta to inquire into the matter. We called upon the governor of the state, who said that he had seen you, and bought a book of you."

"Of me!" exclaimed Bobby, startled to think he had sold a book to a governor.

"Yes; you called at his house; probably you did not know that he was the chief magistrate of the state. At any rate, he was very much pleased with you, and sorry to hear of your misfortune. Well, we followed your route to Brunswick, where we ascertained how Tom had conducted. In a week he established a very bad reputation there; but nothing could be found to implicate you. The squire testified to your uniform good behavior, and especially to your devotion to your mother. In short, we procured your pardon, and hastened with it to the State Reform School.

"On our arrival, we learned, to our surprise and regret, that you had escaped from the institution on the preceding evening. Every effort was made to retake you, but without success. Ah, Bobby, you managed that well."

"They didn't look in the right place," replied Bobby, with a smile, for he began to feel happy again.

"By the permission of the superintendent, Squire Lee and myself examined Tom Spicer. He is a great rascal. Perhaps he thought we would get him out; so he made a clean breast of it, and confessed that you had no hand in the robbery, and that you knew nothing about it. He gave you the two bills on purpose to implicate you in the crime. We wrote down his statement, and had it sworn to before a justice of the peace. You shall read it by and by."

"May Heaven reward you for your kindness to a poor boy!" exclaimed Bobby, the tears flowing down his cheeks again. "I did not deserve so much from you, Mr. Bayard."

"Yes, you did, and a thousand times more. I was very sorry you had left the institution, and I waited in the vicinity till they said there was no probability that you would be captured. The most extraordinary efforts were used to find you; but there was not a person to be found who had seen or heard of you. I was very much alarmed about you, and offered a hundred dollars for any information concerning you."

"I am sorry you had so much trouble. I wish I had known you were there."

"How did you get off?"

Bobby briefly related the story of his escape, and Mr. Bayard pronounced his skill worthy of his genius.

"Sam Ray is a good fellow; we will remember him," added the bookseller, when he had finished.

"I shall remember him; and only that I shall be afraid to go into the State of Maine after what has happened, I should pay him a visit one of these days."

"There you are wrong. Those who know your story would sooner think of giving you a public reception, than of saying or doing anything to injure your feelings. Those who have suffered unjustly are always lionized."

"But no one will know my story, only that I was sent to prison for stealing."

"There you are mistaken again. We put articles in all the principal papers, stating the facts in the case, and establishing your innocence beyond a peradventure. Go to Augusta now, Bobby, and you will be a lion."

"I am sure I had no idea of getting out of the scrape so easily as this."

"Innocence shall triumph, my young friend."

"What does mother say?" asked Bobby, his countenance growing sad.

"I do not know. We returned from Maine only yesterday; but Squire Lee will satisfy her. All that can worry her, as it has worried me, will be her fears for your safety when she hears of your escape."

"I will soon set her mind at ease upon that point. I will take the noon train home."

"A word about business before you go. I discharged Timmins about a week ago, and I have kept his place for you."

"By gracious!" exclaimed Bobby, thrown completely out of his propriety by this announcement.

"I think you will do better, in the long run, than you would to travel about the country. I was talking with Ellen about it, and she says it shall be so. Timmins's salary was five hundred dollars a year, and you shall have the same."

"Five hundred dollars a year!" ejaculated Bobby, amazed at the vastness of the sum.

"Very well for a boy of thirteen, Bobby."

"I was fourteen last Sunday, sir."

"I would not give any other boy so much; but you are worth it, and you shall have it."

Probably Mr. Bayard's gratitude had something to do with this munificent offer; but he knew that our hero possessed abilities and energy far beyond his years. He further informed Bobby that he should have a room at his house, and that Ellen was delighted with the arrangement he proposed.

The gloomy, threatening clouds were all rolled back, and floods of sunshine streamed in upon the soul of the little merchant; but in the midst of his rejoicing he remembered that his own integrity had carried him safely through the night of sorrow and doubt. He had been true to himself, and now, in the hour of his great triumph, he realized that, if he had been faithless to the light within him, his laurel would have been a crown of thorns.

He was happy—very happy. What made him so? Not his dawning prosperity; not the favor of Mr. Bayard; not the handsome salary he was to receive; for all these things would have been but dross if he had sacrificed his integrity, his love of truth and uprightness. He had been true to himself, and unseen angels had held him up. He had been faithful, and the consciousness of his fidelity to principle made a heaven within his heart.

It was arranged that he should enter upon the duties of his new situation on the following week. After settling with Mr. Bayard, he found he had nearly seventy dollars in his possession; so that in a pecuniary point of view, if in no other, his eastern excursion was perfectly satisfactory.

By the noon train he departed for Riverdale, and in two hours more he was folded to his mother's heart. Mrs. Bright wept for joy now, as she had before wept in misery when she heard of her son's misfortune. It took him all the afternoon to tell his exciting story to her, and she was almost beside herself when Bobby told her about his new situation.

After tea he hastened over to Squire Lee's; and my young readers can imagine what a warm reception he had from father and daughter. For the third time that day he narrated his adventures in the east; and Annie declared they were better than any novel she had ever read. Perhaps it was because Bobby was the hero. It was nearly ten o'clock before he finished his story; and when he left, the squire made him promise to come over the next day.

The few days which Bobby remained at home before entering upon the duties of his new situation were agreeably filled up in calling upon his many friends, and in visiting those pleasant spots in the woods and by the river, which years of association had rendered dear to him. His plans for the future, too, occupied some of his time, though, inasmuch as his path of duty was already marked out, these plans were but little more than a series of fond imaginings; in short, little more than day dreams. I have before hinted that Bobby was addicted to castle building, and I should pity the man or boy who was not—who had no bright dream of future achievements, of future usefulness. "As a man thinketh, so is he," the Psalmist tells us, and it was the pen of inspiration which wrote it. What a man pictures as his ideal of that which is desirable in this world and the world to come, he will endeavor to attain. Even if it be no higher aim than the possession of wealth or fame, it is good and worthy as far as it goes. It fires his brain, it nerves his arm. It stimulates him to action, and action is the soul of progress. We must all work; and this world were cold and dull if it had no bright dreams to be realized. What Napoleon dreamed, he labored to accomplish, and the monarchs of Europe trembled before him. What Howard wished to be, he labored to be; his ideal was beautiful and true, and he raised a throne which will endure through eternity.

Bobby dreamed great things. That bright picture of the little black house transformed into a white cottage, with green blinds, and surrounded by a pretty fence, was the nearest object; and before Mrs. Bright was aware that he was in earnest, the carpenters and the painters were upon the spot.

"Now or never," replied Bobby to his mother's remonstrance. "This is your home, and it shall be the pleasantest spot upon earth, if I can make it so."

Then he had to dream about his business in Boston and I am not sure but that he fancied himself a rich merchant, like Mr. Bayard, living in an elegant house in Chestnut Street, and having clerks and porters to do as he bade them. A great many young men dream such things, and though they seem a little silly when spoken out loud, they are what wood and water are to the steam engine—they are the mainspring of action. Some are stupid enough to dream about these things, and spend their time in idleness and dissipation, waiting for "the good time coming." It will never come to them. They are more likely to die in the almshouse or the state prison, than to ride in their carriages; for constant exertion is the price of success.

Bobby enjoyed himself to the utmost of his capacity during these few days of respite from labor. He spent a liberal share of his time at Squire Lee's, where he was almost as much at home as in his mother's house. Annie read Moore's Poems to him, till he began to have quite a taste for poetry himself.

In connection with Tom Spicer's continued absence, which had to be explained, Bobby's trials in the eastern country leaked out, and the consequence was, that he became a lion in Riverdale. The minister invited him to tea, as well as other prominent persons, for the sake of hearing his story; but Bobby declined the polite invitations from sheer bashfulness. He had not brass enough to make himself a hero; besides, the remembrance of his journey was anything but pleasant to him.

On Monday morning he took the early train for Boston, and assumed the duties of his situation in Mr. Bayard's store. But as I have carried my hero through the eventful period of his life, I cannot dwell upon his subsequent career. He applied himself with all the energy of his nature to the discharge of his duties. Early in the morning and late in the evening he was at his post. Mr. Bigelow was his friend from the first, and gave him all the instruction he required. His intelligence and quick perception soon enabled him to master the details of the business, and by the time he was fifteen, he was competent to perform any service required of him.

By the advice of Mr. Bayard, he attended an evening school for six months in the year, to acquire a knowledge of book keeping, and to compensate for the opportunities of which he had been necessarily deprived in his earlier youth. He took Dr. Franklin for his model, and used all his spare time in reading good books, and in obtaining such information and such mental culture as would fit him to be, not only a good merchant, but a good and true man.

Every Saturday night he went home to Riverdale to spend the Sabbath with his mother. The little black house no longer existed, for it had become the little paradise of which he had dreamed, only that the house seemed whiter, the blinds greener, and the fence more attractive than his fancy had pictured them. His mother, after a couple of years, at Bobby's earnest pleadings, ceased to close shoes and take in washing; but she had enough and to spare, for her son's salary was now six hundred dollars. His kind employer boarded him for nothing (much against Bobby's will, I must say), so that every month he carried to his mother thirty dollars, which more than paid her expenses.

Eight years have passed by since Bobby—we beg his pardon, he is now Mr. Robert Bright—entered the store of Mr. Bayard. He has passed from the boy to the man. Over the street door a new sign has taken the place of the old one, and the passer-by reads,—

BAYARD & BRIGHT,BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS.

BAYARD & BRIGHT,

BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS.

The senior partner resorts to his counting room every morning from the force of habit; but he takes no active part in the business. Mr. Bright has frequent occasion to ask his advice, though everything is directly managed by him; and the junior is accounted one of the ablest, but at the same time one of the most honest, business men in the city. His integrity has never been sacrificed, even to the emergencies of trade. The man is what the boy was; and we can best sum up the results of his life by saying that he has been true to himself, true to his friends, and true to his God.

Mrs. Bright is still living at the little white cottage, happy in herself and happy in her children. Bobby—we mean Mr. Bright—has hardly missed going to Riverdale on a Saturday night since he left home, eight years before. He has the same partiality for those famous apple pies, and his mother would as soon think of being without bread as being without apple pies when he comes home.

Of course Squire Lee and Annie were always glad to see him when he came to Riverdale; and for two years it had been common talk in Riverdale that our hero did not go home on Sunday evening when the clock struck nine. But as this is a forbidden topic, we will ask the reader to go with us to Mr. Bayard's house in Chestnut Street.

What! Annie Lee here?

No; but as you are here, allow me to introduce Mrs. Robert Bright.

They were married a few months before, and Mr. Bayard insisted that the happy couple should make their home at his house.

But where is Ellen Bayard?

O, she is Mrs. Bigelow now, and her husband is at the head of a large book establishment in New York.

Bobby's dream had been realized, and he was the happiest man in the world—at least he thought so, which is just the same thing. He had been successful in business; his wife—the friend and companion of his youth, the brightest filament of the bright vision his fancy had woven—had been won, and the future glowed with brilliant promises.

He had been successful; but neither nor all of the things we have mentioned constituted his highest and truest success—not his business prosperity, not the bright promise of wealth in store for him, not his good name among men, not even the beautiful and loving wife who had cast her lot with his to the end of time. These were successes, great and worthy, but not the highest success.

He had made himself a man,—this was his real success,—a true, a Christian man. He had lived a noble life. He had reared the lofty structure of his manhood upon a solid foundation—principle. It is the rock which the winds of temptation and the rains of selfishness cannot move.

Robert Bright is happy because he is good. Tom Spicer, now in the state prison, is unhappy,—notbecausehe is in the state prison, but because the evil passions of his nature are at war with the peace of his soul. He has fed the good that was within him upon straw and husks, and starved it out. He is a body only; the soul is dead in trespasses and sin. He loves no one, and no one loves him.

During the past summer, Mr. Bright and his lady took a journey "down east." Annie insisted upon visiting the State Reform School; and her husband drove through the forest by which he had made his escape on that eventful night. Afterwards they called upon Sam Ray, who had been "dead sure that Bobby would one day be a great man." He was about the same person, and was astonished and delighted when our hero introduced himself.

They spent a couple of hours in talking over the past, and at his departure, Mr. Bright made him a handsome present in such a delicate manner that he could not help accepting it.

Squire Lee is still as hale and hearty as ever, and is never so happy as when Annie and her husband come to Riverdale to spend the Sabbath. He is fully of the opinion that Mr. Bright is the greatest man on the western continent, and he would not be in the least surprised if he should be elected President of the United States one of these days.

The little merchant is a great merchant now. But more than this, he is a good man. He has formed his character, and he will probably die as he has lived.

Reader, if you have any good work to do, do it now; for with you it may be"Now or Never."

By England's Aid by G. A. HentyBy England's Aid by G. A. Henty

12mo, ClothG. A. Henty has long held the field as the most popular boys' author. Age after age of heroic deeds has been the subject of his pen, and the knights of old seem very real in his pages. Always wholesome and manly, always heroic and of high ideals, his books are more than popular wherever the English language is spoken.Each volume is printed on excellent paper from new large-type plates, bound in cloth, assorted colors, with an attractive ink and gold stamp.Price 75 Cents.A Final ReckoningA Tale of Bush Life in AustraliaBy England's AidThe Freeing of the NetherlandsBy Right of ConquestA Tale of Cortez in MexicoBravest of the BraveA Tale of Peterborough in SpainBy Pike and DykeThe Rise of the Dutch RepublicBy Sheer PluckA Tale of the Ashantee WarBonnie Prince CharlieA Tale of Fontenoy and CullodenCaptain Bayley's HeirA Tale of the Gold Fields of CaliforniaCat of BubastesA Story of Ancient EgyptCornet of HorseA Tale of Marlborough's WarsFacing DeathA Tale of the Coal MinesFriends, though DividedA Tale of the Civil War in EnglandFor Name and FameA Tale of Afghan WarfareFor the TempleA Tale of the Fall of JerusalemIn Freedom's CauseA Story of Wallace and BruceIn the Reign of TerrorThe Adventures of a Westminster BoyIn Times of PerilA Tale of IndiaJack ArcherA Tale of the CrimeaLion of St. MarkA Tale of Venice in the XIV. CenturyLion of the NorthA Tale of Gustavus AdolphusMaori and SettlerA Tale of the New Zealand WarOrange and GreenA Tale of the Boyne and LimerickOne of the 28thA Tale of WaterlooOut on the PampasA Tale of South AmericaSt. George for EnglandA Tale of Crécy and PoietiersTrue to the Old FlagA Tale of the RevolutionThe Young ColonistsA Tale of the Zulu and Boer WarsThe Dragon and the RavenA Tale of King AlfredThe Boy KnightA Tale of the CrusadesThrough the FrayA Story of the Luddite RiotsUnder Drake's FlagA Tale of the Spanish MainWith Wolfe in CanadaThe Tale of Winning a ContinentWith Clive in IndiaThe Beginning of an EmpireWith Lee in VirginiaA Story of the American Civil WarYoung CarthaginianA story of the Times of HannibalYoung BuglersA Tale of the Peninsular WarYoung Franc-TireursA Tale of the Franco-Prussian WarTHE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.FLAG OF FREEDOM SERIESBy CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILLThree Volumes, Illustrated, Bound in Cloth, with a very Attractive Cover, Price $1.00 Per VolumeWHEN SANTIAGO FELL; or, The War Adventures of Two ChumsCaptain Bonehill has never penned a better tale than this stirring story of adventures in Cuba. Two boys, an American and his Cuban chum, leave New York to join their parents in the interior of Cuba. The war between Spain and the Cubans is on, and the boys are detained at Santiago de Cuba, but escape by crossing the bay at night. Many adventures between the lines follow, and a good pen picture of General Garcia is given. The American lad, with others, is captured and cast into a dungeon in Santiago; and then follows the never-to-be-forgotten campaign in Cuba under General Shafter. How the hero finally escapes makes reading no wide-awake boy will want to miss.A SAILOR BOY WITH DEWEY; or, Afloat in the PhilippinesThe story of Dewey's victory in Manila Bay will never grow old, but here we have it told in a new form—not as those in command witnessed the contest, but as it appeared to a real, live American youth who was in the navy at the time. Many adventures in Manila and in the interior follow, giving true-to-life scenes from this remote portion of the globe. A book that should be in every boy's library.OFF FOR HAWAII; or, The Mystery of a Great VolcanoHere we have fact and romance cleverly interwoven. Several boys start on a tour of the Hawaiian Islands. They have heard that there is a treasure located in the vicinity of Kilauea, the largest active volcano in the world, and go in search of it. Their numerous adventures will be followed with much interest.PRESS OPINIONS OF CAPTAIN BONEHILL'S BOOKS FOR BOYS"Captain Bonehill's stories will always be popular with our boys, for the reason that they are thoroughly up-to-date and true to life. As a writer of outdoor tales he has no rival."—Bright Days."The story is by Captain Ralph Bonehill, and that is all that need be said about it, for all of our readers know that the captain is one of America's best story-tellers, so far as stories for young people go."—Young People of America."The story is excellently told, and will please any intelligent boy into whose hands it may fall."—Charleston (S. C.) News."We understand that Captain Bonehill will soon be turning from sporting stories to tales of the war. This field is one in which he should feel thoroughly at home. We are certain that the boys will look eagerly for the Bonehill war tales."—Weekly Messenger.THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.Mrs. L. T. Meade'sFAMOUS BOOKS FOR GIRLSThere are few more favorite authors with American girls than Mrs. L. T. Meade, whose copyright works can only be had from us. Essentially a writer for the home, with the loftiest aims and purest sentiments, Mrs. Meade's books possess the merit of utility as well as the means of amusement. They are girls' books—written for girls, and fitted for every home.Here will be found no maudlin nonsense as to the affections. There are no counts in disguise nor castles in Spain. It is pure and wholesome literature of a high order with a lofty ideal.The volumes are all copyright, excellently printed with clear, open type, uniformly bound in best cloth, with ink and gold stamp. 12mo, price $1.00.THE FOLLOWING ARE THE TITLESThe Children of Wilton ChaseBashful FifteenBetty: A SchoolgirlFour on an IslandGirls New and OldOut of the FashionThe Palace BeautifulPolly, a New-Fashioned GirlRed Rose and Tiger LilyA Ring of RubiesA Sweet Girl GraduateA World of GirlsGood LuckA Girl in Ten ThousandA Young MutineerWild KittyThe Children's PilgrimageThe Girls of St. Wode'sTHE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.Edward S. EllisPOPULAR BOYS' BOOKS12mo, ClothPurely American in scene, plot, motives, and characters, the copyright works of Edward S. Ellis have been deservedly popular with the youth of America. In a community where every native-born boy can aspire to the highest offices, such a book as Ellis' "From the Throttle to the President's Chair," detailing the progress of the sturdy son of the people from locomotive engigineer to the presidency of a great railroad, must always be popular. The youth of the land which boasts of a Vanderbilt will ever desire such books, and naturally will desire stories of their native land before wandering over foreign climes.The volumes of this series are all copyright, printed from large, new type, on good paper, and are handsomely bound in cloth, stamped with appropriate designs. Price $1.00.THE FOLLOWING COMPRISE THE TITLESDown the MississippiFrom the Throttle to the President's ChairUp the TapajosTad; or, "Getting Even" with HimLost in SamoaLost in the WildsRed PlumeA Waif of the MountainsTHE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.The Famous Andrew Lang Fairy BooksThe Blue, Red, Green, and Yellow Fairy BooksNever were there more popular books of Fairy Tales than these famous collections made by Andrew Lang. At his able hands the romantic literature of the world has been laid under contribution. The folk-lore of Ireland, the romance of the Rhine, and the wild legends of the west coast of Scotland, with all the glamour and mystery of the Scottish border, have contributed to this famous series of fairy tales.Here are the tales that have delighted generations of children, some culled from old English versions of the eighteenth century, some modernized from quaint chap-books, and all handsomely and modernly illustrated. With the aid of a scholar such as Mr. Lang, the entire world has contributed to this famous series. There is material here for years of delight for children.Each volume is profusely illustrated, printed on velvet-finished paper, bound in cloth, with a very attractive stamp in ink and gold. Small 12mo, price 75 cents.These books should be read in the following order: 1, The Blue Fairy Book; 2, The Red Fairy Book; 3, The Green Fairy Book; 4, The Yellow Fairy Book.The Blue Fairy BookThe Red Fairy BookThe Green Fairy BookThe Yellow Fairy BookTHE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J."Masterpieces of the World's Literature"THE PREMIUM LIBRARYIs extensively used by schools and colleges for supplementary reading. It is issued in attractive 16mo shape, paper covers, printed from clear, readable type, on good paper. Many of the volumes are illustrated. They are published at the low price ofTEN CENTSeach, or 12 books for one dollar. Postage paid. Special prices quoted to schools for larger quantities.1. Abbé Constantin. Ludovic Halévy.2. Æsop's Fables.3. Black Beauty. Anna Sewell.4. Bracebridge Hall. Irving.5. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Byron.6. Coming Race. Bulwer.7. Cranford. Mrs. Gaskell.8. Crown of Wild Olive. Ruskin.9. Discourses of Epictetus.10. Dreams. Olive Schreiner.11. Dream Life. Ik Marvel.12. Drummond's Addresses.13. Emerson's Earlier Essays.14. Ethics of the Dust. Ruskin.15. Frankenstein. Mrs. Shelley.16. Uncle Tom's Cabin. Mrs. Stowe.17. Lady of the Lake. Scott.18. Lalla Rookh. Thomas Moore.19. Lamb's Essays of Elia.20. Lamb's Last Essays of Elia.21. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, I.22. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, II.23. Lays of Ancient Rome. Macaulay.24. Lays of Scottish Cavaliers.25. Light of Asia. Sir E. Arnold.26. Longfellow's Poems.27. Lowell's Poems.28. Mornings in Florence. Ruskin.29. One of the Profession. M. White, Jr.30. Paul and Virginia. B. St. Pierre.31. Pleasures of Life. Sir J. Lubbock.32. Poe's Poems.33. Princess. Tennyson.34. Queen of the Air. Ruskin.35. Rab and His Friends. Dr. J. Brown.36. Rasselas. Johnson.37. Reveries of a Bachelor. Ik Marvel.38. Representative Men. Emerson.39. Sartor Resartus. Carlyle.40. Scarlet Letter. Hawthorne.41. Sesame and Lilies. Ruskin.42. Ships that Pass in the Night. Beatrice Harraden.43. St. Mark's Rest. Ruskin.44. Thoughts from Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.45. Tillyloss Scandal. J. M. Barrie.46. Twice-Told Tales, I. Hawthorne.47. Twice-Told Tales, II. Hawthorne.48. In Memoriam. Tennyson.49. Vicar of Wakefield. Goldsmith.50. Whittier's Poems.51. Autocrat of Breakfast Table. Holmes.52. Heroes and Hero Worship. Carlyle.53. Mosses from an Old Manse, I. Hawthorne.54. Mosses from an Old Manse, II. Hawthorne.55. Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin.56. Song of Hiawatha. Longfellow.57. Evangeline, and Poems. Longfellow.58. Sketch Book. Irving.59. Stickit Minister. S. R. Crockett.60. House of the Seven Gables. Hawthorne.61. Poetical Works of Robt. Browning.62. Paradise Lost. Milton.63. Hamlet. Shakespeare.64. Julius Cæsar. Shakespeare.65. Book of Golden Deeds. Yonge.66. Child's History of England. Dickens.67. Confessions of an Opium Eater. De Quincey.68. Ten Nights in a Barroom. Arthur.69. Treasure Island. Stevenson.70. Tanglewood Tales. Hawthorne.All of the above titles can also be supplied in our famous STANDARD SERIES, handsomely bound in cloth, assorted colors, with an artistic design, atFIFTEEN CENTSper volume, postage paid. Special prices quoted to schools for larger quantities.THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.[Transcriber's note: The spelling of "engigineer" in the advertising pages has been retained.]

G. A. Henty has long held the field as the most popular boys' author. Age after age of heroic deeds has been the subject of his pen, and the knights of old seem very real in his pages. Always wholesome and manly, always heroic and of high ideals, his books are more than popular wherever the English language is spoken.

Each volume is printed on excellent paper from new large-type plates, bound in cloth, assorted colors, with an attractive ink and gold stamp.Price 75 Cents.

A Final ReckoningA Tale of Bush Life in AustraliaBy England's AidThe Freeing of the NetherlandsBy Right of ConquestA Tale of Cortez in MexicoBravest of the BraveA Tale of Peterborough in SpainBy Pike and DykeThe Rise of the Dutch RepublicBy Sheer PluckA Tale of the Ashantee WarBonnie Prince CharlieA Tale of Fontenoy and CullodenCaptain Bayley's HeirA Tale of the Gold Fields of CaliforniaCat of BubastesA Story of Ancient EgyptCornet of HorseA Tale of Marlborough's WarsFacing DeathA Tale of the Coal MinesFriends, though DividedA Tale of the Civil War in EnglandFor Name and FameA Tale of Afghan WarfareFor the TempleA Tale of the Fall of JerusalemIn Freedom's CauseA Story of Wallace and BruceIn the Reign of TerrorThe Adventures of a Westminster BoyIn Times of PerilA Tale of IndiaJack ArcherA Tale of the CrimeaLion of St. MarkA Tale of Venice in the XIV. CenturyLion of the NorthA Tale of Gustavus AdolphusMaori and SettlerA Tale of the New Zealand WarOrange and GreenA Tale of the Boyne and LimerickOne of the 28thA Tale of WaterlooOut on the PampasA Tale of South AmericaSt. George for EnglandA Tale of Crécy and PoietiersTrue to the Old FlagA Tale of the RevolutionThe Young ColonistsA Tale of the Zulu and Boer WarsThe Dragon and the RavenA Tale of King AlfredThe Boy KnightA Tale of the CrusadesThrough the FrayA Story of the Luddite RiotsUnder Drake's FlagA Tale of the Spanish MainWith Wolfe in CanadaThe Tale of Winning a ContinentWith Clive in IndiaThe Beginning of an EmpireWith Lee in VirginiaA Story of the American Civil WarYoung CarthaginianA story of the Times of HannibalYoung BuglersA Tale of the Peninsular WarYoung Franc-TireursA Tale of the Franco-Prussian War

A Final Reckoning

A Tale of Bush Life in Australia

By England's Aid

The Freeing of the Netherlands

By Right of Conquest

A Tale of Cortez in Mexico

Bravest of the Brave

A Tale of Peterborough in Spain

By Pike and Dyke

The Rise of the Dutch Republic

By Sheer Pluck

A Tale of the Ashantee War

Bonnie Prince Charlie

A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden

Captain Bayley's Heir

A Tale of the Gold Fields of California

Cat of Bubastes

A Story of Ancient Egypt

Cornet of Horse

A Tale of Marlborough's Wars

Facing Death

A Tale of the Coal Mines

Friends, though Divided

A Tale of the Civil War in England

For Name and Fame

A Tale of Afghan Warfare

For the Temple

A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem

In Freedom's Cause

A Story of Wallace and Bruce

In the Reign of Terror

The Adventures of a Westminster Boy

In Times of Peril

A Tale of India

Jack Archer

A Tale of the Crimea

Lion of St. Mark

A Tale of Venice in the XIV. Century

Lion of the North

A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus

Maori and Settler

A Tale of the New Zealand War

Orange and Green

A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick

One of the 28th

A Tale of Waterloo

Out on the Pampas

A Tale of South America

St. George for England

A Tale of Crécy and Poietiers

True to the Old Flag

A Tale of the Revolution

The Young Colonists

A Tale of the Zulu and Boer Wars

The Dragon and the Raven

A Tale of King Alfred

The Boy Knight

A Tale of the Crusades

Through the Fray

A Story of the Luddite Riots

Under Drake's Flag

A Tale of the Spanish Main

With Wolfe in Canada

The Tale of Winning a Continent

With Clive in India

The Beginning of an Empire

With Lee in Virginia

A Story of the American Civil War

Young Carthaginian

A story of the Times of Hannibal

Young Buglers

A Tale of the Peninsular War

Young Franc-Tireurs

A Tale of the Franco-Prussian War

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

Three Volumes, Illustrated, Bound in Cloth, with a very Attractive Cover, Price $1.00 Per Volume

Captain Bonehill has never penned a better tale than this stirring story of adventures in Cuba. Two boys, an American and his Cuban chum, leave New York to join their parents in the interior of Cuba. The war between Spain and the Cubans is on, and the boys are detained at Santiago de Cuba, but escape by crossing the bay at night. Many adventures between the lines follow, and a good pen picture of General Garcia is given. The American lad, with others, is captured and cast into a dungeon in Santiago; and then follows the never-to-be-forgotten campaign in Cuba under General Shafter. How the hero finally escapes makes reading no wide-awake boy will want to miss.

The story of Dewey's victory in Manila Bay will never grow old, but here we have it told in a new form—not as those in command witnessed the contest, but as it appeared to a real, live American youth who was in the navy at the time. Many adventures in Manila and in the interior follow, giving true-to-life scenes from this remote portion of the globe. A book that should be in every boy's library.

Here we have fact and romance cleverly interwoven. Several boys start on a tour of the Hawaiian Islands. They have heard that there is a treasure located in the vicinity of Kilauea, the largest active volcano in the world, and go in search of it. Their numerous adventures will be followed with much interest.

"Captain Bonehill's stories will always be popular with our boys, for the reason that they are thoroughly up-to-date and true to life. As a writer of outdoor tales he has no rival."—Bright Days.

"The story is by Captain Ralph Bonehill, and that is all that need be said about it, for all of our readers know that the captain is one of America's best story-tellers, so far as stories for young people go."—Young People of America.

"The story is excellently told, and will please any intelligent boy into whose hands it may fall."—Charleston (S. C.) News.

"We understand that Captain Bonehill will soon be turning from sporting stories to tales of the war. This field is one in which he should feel thoroughly at home. We are certain that the boys will look eagerly for the Bonehill war tales."—Weekly Messenger.

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

There are few more favorite authors with American girls than Mrs. L. T. Meade, whose copyright works can only be had from us. Essentially a writer for the home, with the loftiest aims and purest sentiments, Mrs. Meade's books possess the merit of utility as well as the means of amusement. They are girls' books—written for girls, and fitted for every home.

Here will be found no maudlin nonsense as to the affections. There are no counts in disguise nor castles in Spain. It is pure and wholesome literature of a high order with a lofty ideal.

The volumes are all copyright, excellently printed with clear, open type, uniformly bound in best cloth, with ink and gold stamp. 12mo, price $1.00.

The Children of Wilton ChaseBashful FifteenBetty: A Schoolgirl

The Children of Wilton Chase

Bashful Fifteen

Betty: A Schoolgirl

Four on an IslandGirls New and OldOut of the Fashion

Four on an Island

Girls New and Old

Out of the Fashion

The Palace BeautifulPolly, a New-Fashioned GirlRed Rose and Tiger Lily

The Palace Beautiful

Polly, a New-Fashioned Girl

Red Rose and Tiger Lily

A Ring of RubiesA Sweet Girl GraduateA World of Girls

A Ring of Rubies

A Sweet Girl Graduate

A World of Girls

Good LuckA Girl in Ten ThousandA Young Mutineer

Good Luck

A Girl in Ten Thousand

A Young Mutineer

Wild KittyThe Children's PilgrimageThe Girls of St. Wode's

Wild Kitty

The Children's Pilgrimage

The Girls of St. Wode's

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

Purely American in scene, plot, motives, and characters, the copyright works of Edward S. Ellis have been deservedly popular with the youth of America. In a community where every native-born boy can aspire to the highest offices, such a book as Ellis' "From the Throttle to the President's Chair," detailing the progress of the sturdy son of the people from locomotive engigineer to the presidency of a great railroad, must always be popular. The youth of the land which boasts of a Vanderbilt will ever desire such books, and naturally will desire stories of their native land before wandering over foreign climes.

The volumes of this series are all copyright, printed from large, new type, on good paper, and are handsomely bound in cloth, stamped with appropriate designs. Price $1.00.

Down the MississippiFrom the Throttle to the President's ChairUp the TapajosTad; or, "Getting Even" with HimLost in SamoaLost in the WildsRed PlumeA Waif of the Mountains

Down the Mississippi

From the Throttle to the President's Chair

Up the Tapajos

Tad; or, "Getting Even" with Him

Lost in Samoa

Lost in the Wilds

Red Plume

A Waif of the Mountains

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

Never were there more popular books of Fairy Tales than these famous collections made by Andrew Lang. At his able hands the romantic literature of the world has been laid under contribution. The folk-lore of Ireland, the romance of the Rhine, and the wild legends of the west coast of Scotland, with all the glamour and mystery of the Scottish border, have contributed to this famous series of fairy tales.

Here are the tales that have delighted generations of children, some culled from old English versions of the eighteenth century, some modernized from quaint chap-books, and all handsomely and modernly illustrated. With the aid of a scholar such as Mr. Lang, the entire world has contributed to this famous series. There is material here for years of delight for children.

Each volume is profusely illustrated, printed on velvet-finished paper, bound in cloth, with a very attractive stamp in ink and gold. Small 12mo, price 75 cents.

These books should be read in the following order: 1, The Blue Fairy Book; 2, The Red Fairy Book; 3, The Green Fairy Book; 4, The Yellow Fairy Book.

The Blue Fairy BookThe Red Fairy BookThe Green Fairy BookThe Yellow Fairy Book

The Blue Fairy Book

The Red Fairy Book

The Green Fairy Book

The Yellow Fairy Book

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

"Masterpieces of the World's Literature"

Is extensively used by schools and colleges for supplementary reading. It is issued in attractive 16mo shape, paper covers, printed from clear, readable type, on good paper. Many of the volumes are illustrated. They are published at the low price ofTEN CENTSeach, or 12 books for one dollar. Postage paid. Special prices quoted to schools for larger quantities.

1. Abbé Constantin. Ludovic Halévy.2. Æsop's Fables.3. Black Beauty. Anna Sewell.4. Bracebridge Hall. Irving.5. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Byron.6. Coming Race. Bulwer.7. Cranford. Mrs. Gaskell.8. Crown of Wild Olive. Ruskin.9. Discourses of Epictetus.10. Dreams. Olive Schreiner.11. Dream Life. Ik Marvel.12. Drummond's Addresses.13. Emerson's Earlier Essays.14. Ethics of the Dust. Ruskin.15. Frankenstein. Mrs. Shelley.16. Uncle Tom's Cabin. Mrs. Stowe.17. Lady of the Lake. Scott.18. Lalla Rookh. Thomas Moore.19. Lamb's Essays of Elia.20. Lamb's Last Essays of Elia.21. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, I.22. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, II.23. Lays of Ancient Rome. Macaulay.24. Lays of Scottish Cavaliers.25. Light of Asia. Sir E. Arnold.26. Longfellow's Poems.27. Lowell's Poems.28. Mornings in Florence. Ruskin.29. One of the Profession. M. White, Jr.30. Paul and Virginia. B. St. Pierre.31. Pleasures of Life. Sir J. Lubbock.32. Poe's Poems.33. Princess. Tennyson.34. Queen of the Air. Ruskin.35. Rab and His Friends. Dr. J. Brown.36. Rasselas. Johnson.37. Reveries of a Bachelor. Ik Marvel.38. Representative Men. Emerson.39. Sartor Resartus. Carlyle.40. Scarlet Letter. Hawthorne.41. Sesame and Lilies. Ruskin.42. Ships that Pass in the Night. Beatrice Harraden.43. St. Mark's Rest. Ruskin.44. Thoughts from Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.45. Tillyloss Scandal. J. M. Barrie.46. Twice-Told Tales, I. Hawthorne.47. Twice-Told Tales, II. Hawthorne.48. In Memoriam. Tennyson.49. Vicar of Wakefield. Goldsmith.50. Whittier's Poems.51. Autocrat of Breakfast Table. Holmes.52. Heroes and Hero Worship. Carlyle.53. Mosses from an Old Manse, I. Hawthorne.54. Mosses from an Old Manse, II. Hawthorne.55. Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin.56. Song of Hiawatha. Longfellow.57. Evangeline, and Poems. Longfellow.58. Sketch Book. Irving.59. Stickit Minister. S. R. Crockett.60. House of the Seven Gables. Hawthorne.61. Poetical Works of Robt. Browning.62. Paradise Lost. Milton.63. Hamlet. Shakespeare.64. Julius Cæsar. Shakespeare.65. Book of Golden Deeds. Yonge.66. Child's History of England. Dickens.67. Confessions of an Opium Eater. De Quincey.68. Ten Nights in a Barroom. Arthur.69. Treasure Island. Stevenson.70. Tanglewood Tales. Hawthorne.

1. Abbé Constantin. Ludovic Halévy.

2. Æsop's Fables.

3. Black Beauty. Anna Sewell.

4. Bracebridge Hall. Irving.

5. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Byron.

6. Coming Race. Bulwer.

7. Cranford. Mrs. Gaskell.

8. Crown of Wild Olive. Ruskin.

9. Discourses of Epictetus.

10. Dreams. Olive Schreiner.

11. Dream Life. Ik Marvel.

12. Drummond's Addresses.

13. Emerson's Earlier Essays.

14. Ethics of the Dust. Ruskin.

15. Frankenstein. Mrs. Shelley.

16. Uncle Tom's Cabin. Mrs. Stowe.

17. Lady of the Lake. Scott.

18. Lalla Rookh. Thomas Moore.

19. Lamb's Essays of Elia.

20. Lamb's Last Essays of Elia.

21. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, I.

22. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, II.

23. Lays of Ancient Rome. Macaulay.

24. Lays of Scottish Cavaliers.

25. Light of Asia. Sir E. Arnold.

26. Longfellow's Poems.

27. Lowell's Poems.

28. Mornings in Florence. Ruskin.

29. One of the Profession. M. White, Jr.

30. Paul and Virginia. B. St. Pierre.

31. Pleasures of Life. Sir J. Lubbock.

32. Poe's Poems.

33. Princess. Tennyson.

34. Queen of the Air. Ruskin.

35. Rab and His Friends. Dr. J. Brown.

36. Rasselas. Johnson.

37. Reveries of a Bachelor. Ik Marvel.

38. Representative Men. Emerson.

39. Sartor Resartus. Carlyle.

40. Scarlet Letter. Hawthorne.

41. Sesame and Lilies. Ruskin.

42. Ships that Pass in the Night. Beatrice Harraden.

43. St. Mark's Rest. Ruskin.

44. Thoughts from Marcus Aurelius Antoninus.

45. Tillyloss Scandal. J. M. Barrie.

46. Twice-Told Tales, I. Hawthorne.

47. Twice-Told Tales, II. Hawthorne.

48. In Memoriam. Tennyson.

49. Vicar of Wakefield. Goldsmith.

50. Whittier's Poems.

51. Autocrat of Breakfast Table. Holmes.

52. Heroes and Hero Worship. Carlyle.

53. Mosses from an Old Manse, I. Hawthorne.

54. Mosses from an Old Manse, II. Hawthorne.

55. Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin.

56. Song of Hiawatha. Longfellow.

57. Evangeline, and Poems. Longfellow.

58. Sketch Book. Irving.

59. Stickit Minister. S. R. Crockett.

60. House of the Seven Gables. Hawthorne.

61. Poetical Works of Robt. Browning.

62. Paradise Lost. Milton.

63. Hamlet. Shakespeare.

64. Julius Cæsar. Shakespeare.

65. Book of Golden Deeds. Yonge.

66. Child's History of England. Dickens.

67. Confessions of an Opium Eater. De Quincey.

68. Ten Nights in a Barroom. Arthur.

69. Treasure Island. Stevenson.

70. Tanglewood Tales. Hawthorne.

All of the above titles can also be supplied in our famous STANDARD SERIES, handsomely bound in cloth, assorted colors, with an artistic design, atFIFTEEN CENTSper volume, postage paid. Special prices quoted to schools for larger quantities.

THE MERSHON COMPANY156 Fifth Avenue, New YorkRahway, N. J.

[Transcriber's note: The spelling of "engigineer" in the advertising pages has been retained.]

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