It is astonishing the miles one may pass over unconsciously when one's mind is absorbed in thought. John strode rapidly down street, after his interview with Gertrude, running against foot-passengers with an audacity which his bland "beg pardon" scarcely atoned for. Some scowled, some muttered "tipsy;" an old apple-woman whose basket he upset, picked up the half-dollar he threw her with a very equivocal look of thanks, and a lady whose flounces he pinned to the sidewalk, darted vengeance at him, from a pair of eyes evidently made only for love-glances. Poor, distracted John! pedestrians should have seen that his elbow had a pugilistic crook in it, which might have notified any one with half an eye, that he was in a state of mind. But it is heart-rending how indifferent and stupid the out-door world is to one's individual frames. The hardhearted teamster persists in halting his cart on the only dry street-crossing, though bright eyes look down imploringly at pretty gaiter boots; gentlemen who have practiced before the looking-glass the most killing way of carrying a cane, and finally settled down uponthe arm-pit style, mercilessly extinguish unwary eyes with the protruding weapon. It matters not to the smoker that he poisons the fresh air upon which one has depended to cure a villainous headache. It matters not that the stain of the cigar-stump he tosses upon your dress, is as indelible as the stamp of loaferism upon the best-dressed man who smokes in the street. It matters not to the grocer's boy, as he walks with his head hind side before, that he draws a slimy salt-fish across a silk mantle, or fetches up against a brocade with a quart of molasses. It matters not that you are unable to decide whether the world is not big enough, or whether there are too many people in it; the census keeps going on all the same.
As our hero was sufficiently unfashionable never to have defiled his very handsome mouth with a cigar, he had no escape-valve for his irritation but accelerated motion; and that brought him, after a time, to the door of a restaurant which stood invitingly open. Entering, partly from weariness, partly from extreme thirst, consequent upon being in an excited state, he seated himself in a curtained alcove, and tossing his hat on the table, gave his order to the waiter, and listlessly took up a newspaper. Ere his eyes were riveted upon any particular paragraph, voices in the next alcove attracted his attention.
"Do you stay long in the city?"
"I think not; only a day or two."
"Well, there are plenty of things to look at, if you are fond of sight-seeing; and if your taste runs to women, we have plenty of fair faces. There is one in —— street—ripe, rosy lips—such a foot, and such a symmetrical little form; knows what she is about, too—demure as a nun and sly as a priest; took me completely in with her Methodist way. I thought she was what she pretended to be, and all the time she was carrying on a most desperate flirtation with a fellow by the name of Perry. She was a picture, that little Rose, and now it seems he has caged her at last."
"Rose? Married her?"
"Lord bless you, no—of course not. He schools the boy, and all that—pays the bills, etc.—you understand. The boy goes to school with my little brother; that's the way I tracked her out. You see, it was on board ship I first saw her, and then I lost sight of her again until I got this clew. This whining Perry carried her off under my very nose—I—who have had such success; well, I don't wish to boast, but Perry's money was the thing—women are mercenary creatures. I suppose she passes here for respectable. They have a lady with them whom Perry pretends is his sister, to give it a more respectable air. No woman treats me with contempt without rueing it. By Jupiter, she was as imperious as a duchess because I honored her with a few compliments. I'll turn their little comedy into a tragedy, as sure as my name is Fritz."
"I will save you that trouble," exclaimed John, darting into the alcove, and slapping him across the face with his glove. "There's my card. You know me, sir," and he stood facing him with folded arms.
It is half the battle to have right on one's side, and Fritz was taken at a liar's disadvantage. Conscious of this, he made no attempt at a retort, but pointing to "his friend," muttered something to John about "hearing from him."
John strode out into the open air, to the astonishment of the open-mouthed waiter, who stood, tray in hand.
"A word with you, sir," said the gentleman, whom he had just seen in Fritz's company, following him. "The lady who was the occasion of this quarrel—'Rose'—I would speak ofher."
"I am not accustomed to hearing her so familiarly designated by a stranger," answered Perry, haughtily.
"Pardon me!" exclaimed the gentleman, much agitated. "I—I—in fact, sir, I am a stranger to Mr. Fritz. We met casually in a railroad-car, and meeting me just now before De Marco's, he invited me in to take a glass of wine with him. I have declined having any thing to do as his second in this affair. His manner to you convinced me that he has no right to consider himself a gentleman. With regard to the lady, sir, it may seem to you an impertinence that I should speak of her again—the name attracted me—it is that of a dear lost friend—I fancied this might be she," andthe speaker became more agitated. "Now—it is at your option, sir, whether to pursue the subject further."
John looked him in the face; there was goodness there, and must have been sorrow, too—for the eyes were sunken and the form emaciated, and his thin pale hands were as transparent as a woman's.
"Could this behe?" and John in his turn became agitated.
"If it were? should he lead him out of this labarynth of doubt? should he place in his hand the thread which should conduct him through its dim shadows out under the clear blue sky, 'mid soft breezes and blossoming flowers? or leave him there to grope, while he wooed the blessed sun-light for his own path?"
The temptation was but for a moment.
"You seem feeble," said John, kindly, though his voice still trembled with emotion; "do me the favor to accompany me home, and then we will talk of this more at length."
The two walked on, overshadowed each with the presence of a power, of which all of us have been at some eventful moment conscious, and over which the conventionalities of life have had no control. It did not seem strange therefore to either, that they who had exchanged words, so fraught with meaning to each, should walk on side by side in thoughtful silence.
Arrived at John's lodgings, he ushered the stranger into Gertrude's studio, of which she had given him the key when they parted, as she intended riding out with Rose. Motioning him to a seat, and adding that he would rejoin him presently, John left him there alone.
The stranger looked around; there were landscape, game, fruit, cattle, and flower pieces, and all so exquisitely painted that any other moment each would have been a study to him—now heart and brain were both pre-occupied. What was in store for him? He felt this to be a turning-point in his life.
A slight jar, and a picture, which stands with the back toward him, falls over. The stranger rises, and stoops to replace it!
Ah!—why that suppressed cry of joy? Why those passionate kisses on the insensible canvas? Why those fast-falling tears, and heart-beaming smiles?
"It is notyourmamma—it ismymamma," said Charley, stepping up between the picture and the stranger.
"His own eyes! his own brow! and Rose's sweet mouth! his own, and Rose's child!
"My God, I thank thee!" he murmured; but the thin arms that were outstretched to clasp his new found treasure, fell powerless at his side. To sorrow he had become inured; he could not bear the out-gushing fountain of joy.
John, who had been an unseen spectator, had not looked for this tragic termination of his test. Onhiskind heart his rival's head was pillowed,hishand bathed his cold temples,hisvoice assisted returning consciousness.
"Who is he?" whispered Charley, tiptoeing up to John.
"Ask him," whispered John, as the stranger slowly opened his eyes.
Charley advanced, then retreated a step—then, won by the beaming smile which irradiated the stranger's face, he asked,
"Did you come here to see my Aunt Gertrude's pictures?"
"No," replied the stranger, with the same bright smile.
"Did you come to see John?"
"No, my dear."
"Did you come to see me?"
"Yes."
"What did you come to see me, for?"
Drawing him closer to his heart, and kissing his brow, the stranger said, "See if you can not guess."
Charley looked at Cousin John, but the conflicting expressions which flitted over his face gave him no clew. He looked at the stranger—his dark eyes were brimming with tears, but the same smile still played upon his lips. Charley stood for a moment irresolute, then, with another timid look into his face, he said, "I don't know—certainly—who you are, but—"
"But what, my dear?"
"Perhaps—you are my own papa come home."
No reply—but a deadly pallor overspread the stranger's face as he glanced in the direction of the door. John, who was standing with his back to it, turned around—and there—in the doorway, stood Rose with her small head bent forward—her lips apart—and her dilated eyes fixed upon the prostrate form before her. It was only for an instant—with a piercing cry, in which fear and joy both found utterance, she bounded to his side—kissed his brow, his lips, his eyes. Oh, was death to divide them then? God forbid!
"Vincent—Vincent—my own Vincent!" and in that long, idolatrous kiss, her woman's heart absolved the past, whatever that past might be.
"Sit down by me—tell me what you have learned from Rose," said John, the next day to his sister.
"His history is so singular," said Gertrude, "that in a novel it would be stigmatized as incredible, overdrawn, and absurd; in truth, a novelist who would not subject himself to such charges must not too closely follow Nature. If the gorgeous colors of our autumnal scenery were faithfully transferred to canvas, the artist would be considered a glaring, tasteless burlesquer. Both artist and novelist must learn to 'tone down' their pictures; but as my story is not for the critic's ear, but for yours, John, I shall tell it verbatim.
VINCENT'S HISTORY."Rose and Vincent were legally married by the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, a few miles from the boarding-school where Vincent first saw Rose. Vincent took her from thence immediately to the hotel, where his friend, the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, was staying for a few days previous to his departure for the Continent. Therector's brother, who was with him, was the witness to the ceremony."Rose and Vincent then left for a few days' sojourn in a neighboring city. There Vincent received intelligence of the dying condition of his aged father. As his father had been unapprised of his sudden marriage, he thought it not best to take Rose with him at such a time;—providing, therefore, every thing necessary for her comfort, and expecting to be gone at farthest but a few days, he took a reluctant leave of her—he little thought for how long a time."Part of the journey lay off from the regular public conveyances; and Vincent, being anxious to return to Rose as soon as possible, hesitated not, though the road was lonely, to perform it at night on horseback. On this night he was met by a gang of desperados, who, unknown to him, herded in the vicinity, and who attacked him and left him for dead, after possessing themselves of his watch, pocket-book, and papers. There he was found the next day, by a passing traveler, in an insensible state, and taken to the nearest farm-house. He was quite unable to give any account of himself; and not wishing to be burdened with the care of him, they put him into a cart and took him to the county poor-house. Here his sufferings, aggravated by neglect, assumed the form of brain fever, and from thence, after awhile, he was removed to the lunatic asylum, where heremained for a year without any symptoms of returning reason."His distress, when he finally became conscious of the length of time which had elapsed since he left Rose, was too much for his weak frame. A relapse ensued, and for months longer he vibrated between life and death."When consciousness again returned, though weakened in body and enfeebled in mind, he commenced his weary search for Rose. He could hear nothing except that part of her story which he gleaned from Mrs. Bond, and which only served to aggravate his distress. Since then he has traveled unceasingly in steamboats, railroad cars, and stages; haunted hotels, haunted villages, and loitered trembling in churchyards. There is no misery like suspense, and acting upon an already enfeebled frame, it sapped the very fountains of life, and reduced him so fearfully as to render him quite unable to bear the sudden shock of joy which so unexpectedly met him.""Poor Vincent!" exclaimed John; "and I have grudged him his happiness.""Dear John!""Where was Charley born, Gertrude?""In a Lying-in Hospital; in which poor Rose took refuge when the sorrowful hour drew near."Then," said Gertrude, resuming her story, "Rose's husband had a cousin of the same name as himself,extravagant, reckless, and dissipated, who, though only twenty-five, had run through a handsome property, inherited in his own right from his grandmother, besides making unreasonable demands upon the paternal purse-strings. The old gentleman at last remonstrated, and the young man's affairs being even worse than he had dared to represent, he became desperate and unscrupulous."The father of Rose's husband, who, spite of the profligacy of his nephew, cherished a warm attachment for him, had willed him his property, in case of his son's death. This the young spendthrift was aware of, and when he first heard of the old gentleman's illness, he planned with three desperados to murder his cousin, and remove the only obstacle to his immediate possession of the fortune.""How was this discovered?" asked John."It was revealed by one of the gang on his deathbed, though not until after the instigator had met his own doom at the hands of a woman whom he had betrayed and deserted.""Then," said John, after a pause, "Rose and her husband have no immediate means of support. It is happiness to know that I can be of service even now.""But Vincent is not a man to incur such an obligation," said his sister, "enfeebled as he is.""He must—he shall," said the generous John, "at least till he is stronger and better able to substantiatehis claim to what is rightfully his own; hemayget even more than his own," said John, "when the old lady in New Orleans finds out that he is the father of the beautiful child she fancied so much; the family likeness must have been well handed down in Charley's face.""That is not strange," said Gertrude; "cases have occurred in which the family likeness, after having been apparently wholly obliterated, has re-appeared in the third or fourth generation.""Well, Vincent's story passes belief," said John; "truthis, indeed, stranger than fiction."
VINCENT'S HISTORY.
"Rose and Vincent were legally married by the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, a few miles from the boarding-school where Vincent first saw Rose. Vincent took her from thence immediately to the hotel, where his friend, the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, was staying for a few days previous to his departure for the Continent. Therector's brother, who was with him, was the witness to the ceremony.
"Rose and Vincent then left for a few days' sojourn in a neighboring city. There Vincent received intelligence of the dying condition of his aged father. As his father had been unapprised of his sudden marriage, he thought it not best to take Rose with him at such a time;—providing, therefore, every thing necessary for her comfort, and expecting to be gone at farthest but a few days, he took a reluctant leave of her—he little thought for how long a time.
"Part of the journey lay off from the regular public conveyances; and Vincent, being anxious to return to Rose as soon as possible, hesitated not, though the road was lonely, to perform it at night on horseback. On this night he was met by a gang of desperados, who, unknown to him, herded in the vicinity, and who attacked him and left him for dead, after possessing themselves of his watch, pocket-book, and papers. There he was found the next day, by a passing traveler, in an insensible state, and taken to the nearest farm-house. He was quite unable to give any account of himself; and not wishing to be burdened with the care of him, they put him into a cart and took him to the county poor-house. Here his sufferings, aggravated by neglect, assumed the form of brain fever, and from thence, after awhile, he was removed to the lunatic asylum, where heremained for a year without any symptoms of returning reason.
"His distress, when he finally became conscious of the length of time which had elapsed since he left Rose, was too much for his weak frame. A relapse ensued, and for months longer he vibrated between life and death.
"When consciousness again returned, though weakened in body and enfeebled in mind, he commenced his weary search for Rose. He could hear nothing except that part of her story which he gleaned from Mrs. Bond, and which only served to aggravate his distress. Since then he has traveled unceasingly in steamboats, railroad cars, and stages; haunted hotels, haunted villages, and loitered trembling in churchyards. There is no misery like suspense, and acting upon an already enfeebled frame, it sapped the very fountains of life, and reduced him so fearfully as to render him quite unable to bear the sudden shock of joy which so unexpectedly met him."
"Poor Vincent!" exclaimed John; "and I have grudged him his happiness."
"Dear John!"
"Where was Charley born, Gertrude?"
"In a Lying-in Hospital; in which poor Rose took refuge when the sorrowful hour drew near.
"Then," said Gertrude, resuming her story, "Rose's husband had a cousin of the same name as himself,extravagant, reckless, and dissipated, who, though only twenty-five, had run through a handsome property, inherited in his own right from his grandmother, besides making unreasonable demands upon the paternal purse-strings. The old gentleman at last remonstrated, and the young man's affairs being even worse than he had dared to represent, he became desperate and unscrupulous.
"The father of Rose's husband, who, spite of the profligacy of his nephew, cherished a warm attachment for him, had willed him his property, in case of his son's death. This the young spendthrift was aware of, and when he first heard of the old gentleman's illness, he planned with three desperados to murder his cousin, and remove the only obstacle to his immediate possession of the fortune."
"How was this discovered?" asked John.
"It was revealed by one of the gang on his deathbed, though not until after the instigator had met his own doom at the hands of a woman whom he had betrayed and deserted."
"Then," said John, after a pause, "Rose and her husband have no immediate means of support. It is happiness to know that I can be of service even now."
"But Vincent is not a man to incur such an obligation," said his sister, "enfeebled as he is."
"He must—he shall," said the generous John, "at least till he is stronger and better able to substantiatehis claim to what is rightfully his own; hemayget even more than his own," said John, "when the old lady in New Orleans finds out that he is the father of the beautiful child she fancied so much; the family likeness must have been well handed down in Charley's face."
"That is not strange," said Gertrude; "cases have occurred in which the family likeness, after having been apparently wholly obliterated, has re-appeared in the third or fourth generation."
"Well, Vincent's story passes belief," said John; "truthis, indeed, stranger than fiction."
Had cousin John no war to wage with self? Could the long-hoarded hope of years be relinquished without a struggle? Could blissful days and nights, in which to breathe the same air with Rose, win even the faintest smile, were reward enough for any toil,—could such memories cease at once to thrill? Could he see that smile, in all its brightness, beaming upon another?—hear that voice ten fold more musically modulated whispering (not for him) words he would have died to hear—and not feel a pang bitter as death? Tell me, ye who have made earth-idols only to see them pass away?
No—cousin John felt all this; Rose lost all was lost—nothing to toil for—nothing to hope for—nothing to live for.
Was it indeed so? He dashed the unmanly tears away. Was he, indeed, such a poor, selfish driveler that the happiness of her whom he loved was less dear to him than his own? Was it no joy to see that sweet eye brighten with hope, though kindled by another? Was it nothing to see the shadow of shame pass fromthat fair brow, and see it lifted in the world's scornful face in loving pride to him who rightfully called her "wife?" Was it nothing that Charley's little heaving heart had found his own papa?
"Shame—shame—washismanly heart powerless to bear whatshe, whom he so loved, had borne in all her woman's feebleness?"
"I knew it would be so, John," said Gertrude, gazing into her brother's calm face, in which the traces of suffering still lingered. "I knew you could conquer"—and tears of sympathy fell upon the hand she pressed.
"Sit down," said John, a few hours after, as Vincent rapped at his room-door. "I was just wishing for you, although it were cruel to monopolize you a moment, at such a time as this. Sit down—I want to confess to you," said John, with a heightened color. "It will make my heart easier—it will be better for both of us.
"Vincent—you have taken away from me all that has made life dear to me since I first saw your—since I first saw Rose; and yet"—and John reached out his hand—"I can look on your happiness and hers, and thank God for it. It has cost me a struggle—but it is all over now. Peerless as Rose is—I feel that you are worthy of her."
"I can not find words to say what I would," said Vincent; "by my gain, my dear friend, I can measure your loss," and he grasped John's hand with unfeigned emotion. "Rose has spoken of you to me in a way this morning that, independent of this noble frankness on your part, would forever have insured you a brother's place in my heart. How can I thank you for it all?How can I prove to you my gratitude for your kindness to me and mine?"
"By not leaving us," answered John; "by considering my ample means as yours, and Rose's, and Charley's; by making my otherwise solitary life glad, bright, and blessed by your presence; by placing a confidence in me which you will never have cause to regret," said John, with a flushed brow.
"I know it—I believe it—I know it—God bless you," said Vincent; "you can ask nothing that I could refuse. Had it not been for you, I might never have found my treasures. I will be your guest for a time, until I have established claims which I must not neglect, for those who are dear to me—andthenour homes shall be one. God bless you, John, my brother."
Rose glided in! Oh how surpassingly lovely! with those love-brimming eyes and that sunny smile. Placing her little hand in John's, she said, "and my brother, too."
"Seal it with a kiss, Rose," said Vincent.
"That I will," exclaimed the happy little wife. "Kiss me, John."
"Me, too," said Charley. "Oh, John, is nothe(pointing to Vincent) all of our papas? Mayn't I run and tell Tommy Fritz?"
It was a cold January night. The stars glowed and sparkled, and ever and anon shot rapidly across the clear blue sky, as if it was out of all reason to expect them to stay on duty such a bitter night, without a little occasional exercise.
The few pedestrians whom business had unfortunately driven out, hurried along with rapid strides, steaming breath, and hands thrust into their pockets; and, as their arms protruded, handle-fashion, they might have been mistaken for so many brown jugs in locomotion.
Through many a richly-curtained window, the bright lights gleamed cheerfully, while the merry song or laugh from within, might be heard by the shivering outsiders, quickening the steps of those who were so lucky as to have firesides of their own, and making the night, to those who had none, seem still more cold and drear.
Beneath one of these brilliantly-lighted windows, down upon the frosty pavement, crouched a bundle of rags, it scarce seemed more, so motionless had it lainthere, for hours; for on such a bitter night no one felt inclined to stop and investigate it; and yet there was life within it, feeble and nickering though it was.
Now and then a pair of hollow eyes gleamed out, and gazed wildly about, and then the lids would close over them, and the head droop back again to its old posture.
Now and then a murmur issued from the parched lips, and one might have heard, had he been very near, the words—
"Mercy! mercy!"
And still from the window above, the bird-like voice caroled out its sweet song, and merry voices joined in the chorus.
Now a little child, with broad, expansive brow, and sweet, soul-lit eyes, parts the rich damask curtains, and pressing his little face closely against the window-pane, gazes out into the frosty night.
"How brightly the gleaming stars shine! I wonder howlonghave they shone? I wonder are theyreallyall little worlds? and people in them? I wonder—" and here the child stopped, for the bundle of rags beneath the window gave a convulsive heave, and his quick ear had caught the words despair had uttered:
"Mercy! mercy!"
"Oh! papa—dear papa, Gertrude, John, oh, come!"and with heart of pity and winged feet, little Charley darted through the dining-room door, out into the wide hall, and down the steps to the bundle of rags whence the sound issued.
The eyes had closed again, the head had drooped, and the poor thin, outstretched hands fallen hopelessly down upon the frosty pavement.
"Run in, Charley," said John; "the air is bitter cold. Move away, dear, and let me take this poor creature up."
It was a light burthen, that bundle of rags, though the heart beneath it was so heavy.
Rose and Gertrude sprang forward and arranged pillows on the sofa for the dying woman, for such she seemed to be, and chafed her hands and temples, while John and Vincent dropped some wine between the pale lips.
Slowly she opened her eyes. Warmth! light! kind words! kind faces! Where was she?
Now Rose bends over her a face pitying as God's angels. The hollow eyes glare wildly upon it, a spasm passes over the pale face of the sufferer, and as she turns away to the pillow, she falters out,
"Oh! God forgive me! Mercy! mercy!"
"May He grant it!" said the shuddering Rose, hiding her face in her husband's bosom, as Markham's despairing, dying wail rang in her ears. "May God grant it, even at the eleventh hour."
When youth had passed, and, standing upon the threshhold of manhood, Charley looked out upon the tangled web of life, and saw (seemingly) the scales of eternal justice unevenly balanced, memory painted again, in freshened colors,thatscene, and inscribed beneath it—
GOD IS JUST!
THE END.
EDITH;
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"A story of great interest * * * Written in an attractive style * * * Built upon a well-arranged plot * * * The best of Herbert's works."—Dayton (O.) Empire.
"Herbert is a pleasing, busy, instructive, successful novelist historian."—Boston Christian Times.
"It displays much dramatic skill and felicity of description, and accurately depicts the manners, customs, and institutions of the Saxons and the Normans, at the time of their fusion into the great English race."—N. Y. Chronicle.
"Mr. Herbert's style is clear and fine, and the plot of his story well constructed."—State of Maine.
"One of the best stories of the author."—Cor. Boston Traveler.
THE RAG-PICKER;
OR,
BOUND AND FREE.
1 Vol., 12mo. 442 pp. Price $1.25.
"This is a most stirring and pathetic story, illustrating the terrible power of human depravity on the one hand, and the importance of using the most efficient means to counteract it on the other. The author assures us that his statements are throughout nothing but sober verity; and that many of the persons whose character and experience are here described are still living in various parts of the United States. If this be really so (and we have no right to dispute the author's word), we can only say that they form the most remarkable group of personages which have ever come within our knowledge. It is a most intensely exciting book; but we do not perceive any thing that indicates ill-nature."—Boston Puritan Recorder.
"The tale is one of modern times and events; the characters and personages alluded to are those who have lived in the present century, here and elsewhere, and the story is a most exciting one, well and powerfully written."—Boston Transcript.
"The most original in its conception, the widest in its scope, the most interesting in its narrative, and the best in its execution. The characters are drawn from nature; we need no preface to tell us that, for they speak, think, and act to the life * * * The ups and downs of honest old Davy, the hero of the book, the true-hearted Rag-Picker, read us a homily on the fickleness of fortune, and furnish an example which the proudest aristocrat might do well to follow. We lay aside the volume with a sigh that there is no more of it."—N. Y. Saturday Evening Courier.
"We have read this book, which claims to be a 'record of facts' by an eye and ear-witness, with thrilling interest at a single sitting."—Boston Liberator.
"The book is well and powerfully written, and the story is a most exciting one."—Portland Transcript.
"The narrative is rapid and spirited."—N. York Evening Post.
"It is replete with incidents, its characters are natural and distinctly shown, and the interest of the narrative is well sustained."—Boston Atlas.
"A good, a useful, and a meritorious book, and one peculiarly fitted for family reading."—N. Y. Sunday Times.
"It is highly dramatic, and keeps the reader intensely interested to the end."—Portland Daily Argus.
"It is written with spirit and power."—American Courier.
"The narrative warmly enlists the sympathies of the reader, and to the end sustains the interest without flagging."—Chicago Christian Times.
"It is beautifully written, and will be widely circulated, as it richly deserves."—Christian Chronicle, Phila.
"A well-planned and highly interesting story."—Fred. Douglass's Paper.
"The story is one of decided literary merit, and unexceptionable moral tone; and is replete with life lessons drawn from life scenes."—Boston Christian Freeman.
"Well told, vivid and excellent in aim and tone."—Cor. Boston Transcript.
"It is written with distinguished ability."—Boston Chronicle.
"Is full of dramatic scenes of the most exciting kind."—New York Life Illustrated.
"A very readable volume."—Dollar Newspaper.
"It is full of vigor and dramatic power."—New Bedford Mercury.
"The author wields a vigorous pen."—Glen Falls Republican.
"No one will read it without a feeling of satisfaction."—Oswego Palladium.
"It may be deemed the protest of an energetic mind against the expression and lack of sympathy of one class toward another."—Indianapolis Sentinel.
"The story is, in truth, one of realities too sadly real, and, as such, impresses the reader with more profound sympathies for the unfortunate of our race."—Dayton Gazette.
"A most readable and interesting book."—Pottsville Register.
OLIE;
OR, THE OLD WEST ROOM.
The Weary at Work and the Weary at Rest.
ByL. M. M.
1 Vol. 12mo., 456 pp. Price $1.25.
"A simple, charming story."—N. Y. Evening Mirror.
"The author is master of that magic which transmutes fictitious characters into real personages."—Philadelphia Eve. Argus.
"Full of adventure, and very interesting."—Boston Chronicle.
"A narrative of rare interest."—N. Y. Commercial.
"A very charming story, delicate in its sentiment, and calculated to refine as well as please."—Boston Traveler.
"The last chapter, entitled 'The Weary at Rest,' is a specimen of not only real but sublime pathos."—Boston Puritan Recorder.
"Charmingly written, and truthful in portraiture."—Dayton (O.) Gazette.
"Calculated to make the reader wiser and better."—Boston Uncle Samuel.
"Its delineations of domestic life are perfect; its language poetic and eloquent."—N. Y. Daybook.
"The work abounds with beautiful passages."—Portland Inquirer.
"A home book for every family; an interesting fireside companion."—Western New Yorker.
"A work of extraordinary merit."—Dutchess Democrat.
"We can commend it with a freedom we do not always feel at liberty to use."—N. York Evangelist.
"Happily conceived, and well sketched."—Phila. Christian Observer.
"All shall be the better for the reading of 'Olie.'"—American Index.
"Abounds in incidents of a romantic character."—Plymouth Memorial.
"Written purely and lovingly."—Hall's Journal of Health.
"A rich tone of moral harmony runs all through its flower garden of sympathy and love."—Peekskill Eagle.
"It is written in a beautiful style, and in a loving tender spirit."—New York Citizen.
"Crowded with scenes of interest."—Plow, Loom, and Anvil.
"From page to page you are lured along until the end is reached."—Masonic Review.
"Sketched with a gentle and tender hand."—N. Y. Presbyterian.
"Awakens our interest and our sympathies."—Life Illustrated.
"A charming and chaste production."—N. Y. Sunday Times.
"Skillfully narrated."—Boston Transcript.
"Will find readers in every home."—U. S. Mining Journal.
"A fine production."—Boonesboro' (Md.) Odd Fellow.
"Attracts and delights the reader."—Zion's Advocate.
"A well written and interesting book."—Utica Observer.
"An entertaining book for the household."—Boston Liberator.
"Can not fail to interest the reader."—N. Y. Tribune.
"Well worthy of perusal."—Clinton Sat. Courant.
"We cordially recommend it to our readers."—U. S. Review.
"Those who were so delighted with 'The Lamplighter,' will be charmed with 'Olie.'"—Peterson's Magazine.
"Greatly superior to the mass of domestic novels."—Delaware Gazette.
"The dialogue is unaffected, the plot simple and natural, and there are dashes by turns of true pathos and sentiment."—N. Y. Saturday Courier.
CONE CUT CORNERS:
The Experience of a Conservative Family in Fanatical Times;Including some Account of a Connecticut Village, thePeople who lived in it, and those who camethere from the city.
By Benauly.
1 Vol. 12mo., 456 pp. Price $1.25. Elegantly Illustrated.
"This is one of the most spirited and amusing satires on village gossip and city snobism which has fallen in our way for many a day."—Boston Traveler.
"It is written with the ease and energy of a practical hand."—N. Y. Independent.
"It is written with spirit."—N. Y. Evening Post.
"Its author wields a satirical and even caustic pen."—Boston Atlas.
"A series of humorous and well-aimed thrusts at the follies of the times."—Phila. Sun. Mercury.
"One of the best temperance stories ever written."—Bridgeport (Conn.) Standard.
"One of the best pictures of village life we ever read."—Lancaster (Pa.) Examiner.
"A regular Yankee story—a vein of humor running through the whole of it."—Bridgeport (Conn) Farmer.
"The writer, whoever he is, has original fun, humor, satire, and knowledge of human nature within him."—Boston Post.
"The book is written with a strong and vital pen."—Boston Bee.
"A very witty, very singular, and very well written novel."—Phila. Bulletin.
"Would do credit to a Dickens or a Thackeray."—Boston Journal.
"It is pervaded by a deep current of genuine wit and irony."—Boston Puritan Recorder.
"A readable and entertaining book."—Cin. Columbian.
"Brimming full of genuine humor and satire."—Peekskill Eagle.
"May be read with unabated interest and delight from beginning to end."—St. Louis Republican.
"It has real humor, sound satire, and a good moral."—Nashua (N. H.) Oasis.
"It is a capitally written book."—Waterville Mail.
"It abounds in vigorous portraiture."—N. Y. Picayune.
"It is a great book."—Springfield (O.) Nonpareil.
"The story is most admirably told."—Rock Island Republican.
"A rich and racy book."—Woodstock (Vt.) Temperance Standard.
"One of the most readable books of the day."—Portland Transcriptand Eclectic.
"It furnishes a rich home entertainment."—Vt. Christian Messenger.
"Written in a very racy style."—Alton (Ill.) Courier.
"Abounds with sound, moral judgment, mixed with wit, humor, and satire."—Free American, North Adams.
"It is remarkably unique, racy, humorous, pathetic, and has many graphic delineations and thrilling passages."—Boston Liberator.
"A singularly witty, satirical, and well written American romance."—California Farmer.
"Buy it, and read it by all means."—Athens (Pa.) Gazette.
"We can heartily commend it as a capitally written story."—Milwaukie Sentinel.
"A very natural, and extremely interesting story."—N. Y. Dispatch.
"A pleasant, agreeable, readable book."—N. Y. Atlas.
"It is a pleasant and deeply interesting volume."—Utica (N. Y.) Observer.
"Enchants with a magic spell that ever tempts us onward."—Indianapolis Sentinel.
"The style is sprightly and attractive."—Syracuse Chronicle.
"Written in a style of charming sprightliness."—Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
LIFE OF HORACE GREELEY,
Editor of the New York Tribune.
By J. Parton.
Elegantly Illustrated. 1 Vol. 12mo., 442 pp. Price $1.25.
"The career of the great editor from humble boyhood to proud pre-eminence among the master-minds of the country, is truthfully and fascinatingly told."—Lafayette (Ind.) Journal.
"It is an account of the life of a man of great energy of character, and of more than common variety of talent, who has taken a prominent part in the controversies and discussions of the day."—N. Y. Evening Post.
"His life is a 'living epistle,' proclaiming that virtuous endeavors and unselfish toil, sooner or later, will meet a fit recompense."—N. Y. Christian Intelligencer.
"The volume tells all about 'Horace,'—where he came from, his struggles, ambition, triumphs, etc. These are of great interest, and will be read with avidity."—Boston Daily News.
"A most graphic and entertaining account of the life of Mr. Greeley. * * * The most spicy and attractive biography of the day."—Boston Journal.
"It throws open the door of the work-shop, and exhibits industry, and thrift, and intelligence at their hard day's work, earning their daily bread, and laying down the stepping stones to all that the world esteems and admires."—Utica Morning Herald.
"There has been nothing like it since the life of Franklin: interesting throughout."—Montpelier Watchman.
"An interesting book—full of good to all."—Bangor Mercury.
"Full of interest and instruction."—Belvidere Intelligencer.
"Is of absorbing interest, and contains much of pleasant humor, sparkling wit, and attractive anecdote."—Bangor Courier.
"The life of a most extraordinary man."—Amherst Gazette.
"Let the book be read in every home in America."—Hartford Republican.
"We have read chapter after chapter of this work with unflagging interest."—Rochester Daily American.
"It is a volume for earnest men and boys to read and study."—Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
"A veritable biography of one of the most remarkable men of the time."—Concord Independent Democrat.
"The biography of one of the bravest, noblest, clearest-headed, largest-hearted, and most thoroughly self-made men in America."—Bradford Inquirer.
"Worthy of a place by the side of the life of Benjamin Franklin."—Hartford Religious Herald.
"We commend it to the study of young men."—St. Louis (Mo.) Republican.
"Written in a most graphic and entertaining style."—Christian Freeman.
"It is a useful book—a book that can not be read without profit."—Trumpet & Magazine.
"A faithful and full history of a man whom the public want to know all about."—Ellensville Journal.
"A volume of rare interest."—Sandy Hill Herald.
"As interesting as any novel—yet all true."—Painesville Democrat.
"The life of Horace Greeley is one for the youth of America to study."—Phila. News.
"Attractive, interesting and instructive."—Rome Excelsior.
"A book which should be in every household—should be read and pondered by the young and old."—Phila. Merchant.
"Abounds in racy anecdotes."—Fond-du-Lac Herald.
"As an incentive to youth in poverty to be honest, faithful, and persevering, apart from its personal interest, it should go into the hands of the young of America generally."—Middletown Standard.
RUTH HALL:
A Domestic Tale of the Present Time.
By Fanny Fern.
1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 400. Price $1.25.
"Every chapter has the touch of genius in it."—Worcester Palladium.
"It is a thrilling life sketch, with passages of great power and pathos."—Maysville Eagle.
"Flashes of gayest humor alternate with bursts of deep pathos; so that the volume is relieved of all peril of monotony."—N. Y. Tribune.
"This is a remarkable book—a book to create a sensation."—N. Y. Mirror.
"Wherever the English language is read, Ruth Hall will be eagerly read."—New York Picayune.
"No one will fail to read the book through who reads the first chapter."—N. Y. Sunday Courier.
"Never did a tale abound in so many beautiful images."—Philadelphia Mercury.
"In point of interest it exceeds any work of fiction we have read for years."—Eve. Journal.
"Her words are red-hot, and her sentences seem to glow with the intensity of her feeling."—Rutland Co. Herald.
"The most lively and sparkling favorite writer of the present time."—Burlington Gazette.
"No one can fail to be interested in the narrative."—Hallowell Gazette.
"It is a powerful; remarkable book."—Springfield Republican.
"It is a book that will make a sobbing among mothers and widows."—Poughkeepsie Eagle.
"Read it, you can not fail to be the better of it."—Pittsburg Family Journal.
"Whoever takes it up will read it to the close without sleeping."—Plattsburg Republican.
"The interest never flags."—Knick. Mag.
"In 'Ruth Hall' there is pathos, humor, and satire."—N. Y. Life Illustrated.
"We have read it through with unabated interest."—Ithaca Chronicle.
"A real Heart Book, a household book."—Schoharie Democrat.
"It sparkles with brilliants."—Hartford Christian Secretary.
"A fresh racy volume."—Hartford Union.
"Abounding with the keenest satire, and flashes of wit."—N. Y. Christian Ambassador.
"Will rival the choicest productions of English genius."—Columbus (Geo.) Times.
"Is the most intensely interesting book that we have ever read."—Ellensville Journal.
"Every page glitters with some gem of intellect, some bright truth."—Tiffin (O.) Tribune.
"No novel has created such a sensation."—N. O. Bulletin.
"Genius is manifested in every page."—N. Y. Merchants' Ledger.
"Thousands will read and re-read 'Ruth Hall' with deep and intense interest."—Doylestown Democrat.
"It is the most condensed and thrillingly interesting book ever written."—Easton (Md.) Star.
"It is instinct with the highest genius."—Philadelphia Sun.
"Presents a vivid picture of the trials of literary life."—N. Y. True American.
"Its scenes are drawn with power, pathos, and naturalness."—Buff. Eve. Post.
"The book shows fact to be stranger than fiction."—Rome Excelsior.
"A real sketch of human life, amid clouds, storm and sunshine."—Lawrence Sentinel.
"All the characters are portraits—every body has seen their prototypes."—Waterville Journal.
"Never have we read a book so true to nature."—Keystone City.
"A live book; it is a tale of real life; the story is powerfully told."—Burlington Hawk Eye.
"Abounds with gems."—Nashville Banner.
"It is an evergreen, fresh as are all the emanations of mind, 'not born to die.'"—Lockport Democrat.
"A book of extraordinary interest."—Monongahela Republican.
Dr. Lowell Mason's
CHURCH MUSIC.
THE HALLELUJAH.A book for the Service of Song in the House of the Lord, containing tunes, chants, and anthems, both for the choir and congregation; to which is prefixed the Singing School, a manual for classes in vocal music, with exercises, rounds, and part songs, for choir practice; also, Musical Notation in a Nut-shell; a brief course for singing-schools, intended for skillful teachers and apt pupils. ByLowell Mason. $1. Do. cloth extra, $1 25.
The publication of this, Dr. Mason's last work, was looked for with great interest by the musical public, as he had enjoyed peculiar advantages, and bestowed extraordinary labor in its preparation. It has not disappointed the expectations with regard to it. Thus far it has proved the most successful work of its class ever published, and it is believed that it will take its place by the side of "Carmina Sacra," by the same author, as a standard work in its department.
The publication of this, Dr. Mason's last work, was looked for with great interest by the musical public, as he had enjoyed peculiar advantages, and bestowed extraordinary labor in its preparation. It has not disappointed the expectations with regard to it. Thus far it has proved the most successful work of its class ever published, and it is believed that it will take its place by the side of "Carmina Sacra," by the same author, as a standard work in its department.
CANTICA LAUDIS; or, the American Book of Church Music; being chiefly a selection of chaste and elegant melodies from the most classic authors, ancient and modern, with harmony parts; together with anthems and other set pieces for choirs and singing-schools; to which are added tunes for congregational singing. ByLowell MasonandGeorge James Webb. $1.
THE CARMINA SACRA; or, Boston Collection of Church Music, comprising the most popular psalm and hymn tunes in general use, together with a great variety of new tunes, chants, sentences, motetts, and anthems, principally by distinguished European composers; the whole being one of the most complete collections of music for choirs, congregations, singing-schools, and societies extant. ByLowell Mason. $1.
NEW CARMINA SACRA; or, Boston Collection of Church Music. This book is a careful and thorough revision of the favorite work heretofore published under the same title. The object has been to retain the most valuable and universally pleasing part of the former work as the basis of the new, omitting such portions as experience had proved to be the least serviceable and popular, and substituting choice tunes and pieces selected from the whole range of the author's previous works; appending, also, additional pages of entirely new and interesting music, from other sources. In its present form it undoubtedly comprises one of the best collections of sacred music ever published. $1.
***More than 400,000 copies of the "Carmina Sacra" have been sold.
THE BOSTON ACADEMY'S COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC.ByLowell Mason. Published under direction of the Boston Academy of Music. $1.
THE PSALTERY.A new Collection of Church Music. ByLowell MasonandGeorge J. Webb. Published under the direction and with the sanction of the Boston Academy of Music, and of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society. $1.
THE NATIONAL PSALMIST.A collection of the most popular and useful Psalm and Hymn tunes, together with a great variety of new tunes, anthems, sentences, and chants—forming a most complete manual of church music for choirs, congregations, singing-classes, and musical associations. ByLowell MasonandG. J. Webb. $1.
THE CONGREGATIONAL TUNE BOOK.A collection of popular and approved tunes, suitable for congregational use. ByLowell MasonandG. J. Webb. 30 cents.
BOOK OF CHANTS.Consisting of selections from the Scriptures, adapted to appropriate music, and arranged for chanting, designed for congregational use in public or social worship. ByLowell Mason. 12mo, cloth. 75 cents.
THE BOSTON ANTHEM BOOK.Being a selection of Anthems and other pieces. ByLowell Mason. $1 25.
THE BOSTON CHORUS BOOK.Enlarged; consisting of a new selection of popular choruses, from the works of Handel, Haydn, and other eminent composers, arranged in full Vocal score, with an accompaniment for the Organ or Piano Forte. Compiled byLowell MasonandG. J. Webb. 75 cents.
CHURCH MUSIC.
THE SHAWM.A Library of Church Music, embracing about one thousand pieces, consisting of psalm and hymn tunes, adapted to every meter in use; anthems, chants, and set pieces; to which is added an original cantata, entitled "Daniel; or, the Captivity and Restoration;" including also the "Singing Class," an entirely new and practical arrangement of the elements of music, interspersed with social part songs for practice. ByWm. B. BradburyandG. F. Root, assisted byThomas HastingsandT. B. Mason. $1.
THE NATIONAL LYRE.A collection of Psalm and Hymn tunes, with a selection of chants, anthems, etc. Designed for the use of all choirs, congregations, singing-schools, and societies throughout the United States. Compiled and arranged byS. P. Tuckerman,S. A. Bancroft, andH. K. Oliver. 75 cents.
TEMPLE MELODIES.A collection of about two hundred popular tunes, adapted to nearly five hundred favorite hymns, selected with special reference to public, social, and private worship. ByDarius E. Jones. 12mo. cloth, 62 ½ cents. 12mo, roan, gilt, 75 cents. 12mo, cloth, full gilt sides and edges, $1. 8vo, cloth, 87 ½ cents. 8vo, roan, gilt, $1. 8vo, Turkey morocco, extra gilt (pulpit copies), $3.
The different editions correspond exactly in all their contents, beingpage for page the same, varying only in the size of type and style of binding. This work has been extensively introduced into churches of various denominations, in different parts of the country, and has, we believe, given universal satisfaction in all cases. It is believed that it contains a very much larger number of really favorite and useful hymns and tunes than any other book.
PLAIN MUSIC FOR THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.A complete collection of sacred music, for the worship of the Protestant Episcopal Church, designed especially for congregational use. Edited by Rev.G. T. Rider, A.M. 50 cents.
This work has been carefully prepared to meet a long felt want, namely, of a book of chants and tunes for congregational use, that should contain, in convenient order and form, and attractive style, and at the same time at a reasonable price, all the music required for the use of the people.
THE LIBER MUSICUS; or, New York Anthem Book and Choir Miscellany, comprising anthems, choruses, quartetts, trios, duets, songs, etc. It includes pieces for the festivals of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter, commencement and close of the year, dedications and installations, for funerals and fasts, etc., etc. Most of the pieces are new, and while their simple melody and ease of performance peculiarly adapt them to the wants of smaller choirs, they are also all the largest can require. $1.
THE CHOIR CHORUS BOOK.A collection of choruses from the works of the most distinguished composers. Compiled, adapted to English words, and arranged with particular reference to choir practice, and for the use of musical societies, byA. N. Johnson. In the large and varied collection which this book contains, five of the choruses are by Handel, thirteen by Haydn, seventeen by Mozart, six by Mendelssohn, and the remainder by Cherubini, Neukomm, Zingarelli, Romberg, Webbe, Naumann, Spohr, King, Steymann, etc. $1.
CHORUSES OF HANDEL'S MESSIAH.Complete vocal parts, forming No. 1 of the "Oratorio Chorus Book." This is the first of a series, the design of which is to furnish, in a compact and very cheap form, the choruses of the great oratorios, so that this standard music may be brought within reach of all. 50 cents.
THE PILGRIM FATHERS.A Cantata in two parts. Composed byGeorge F. Root, assisted in the preparation of the words by MissFrances J. Crosby, the blind poetess. Paper, 25 cents.
This cantata was originally prepared for the pages of the "Hallelujah," and is now published as a supplement to that work.
GLEE BOOKS.
THE NEW YORK GLEE AND CHORUS BOOK.A collection of new and admired glees and choruses, for singing-schools, choir practice, Musical conventions, and the social circle. ByWm. B. BradburyandLowell Mason. (In press.) $1.
THE NEW ODEON.A collection of Secular Melodies, arranged and harmonized in four parts. ByLowell MasonandG. J. Webb. $1.
A revised edition of the most popular collection of secular music ever published in America, but which has for some time been out of the market. New Elements of Music have been prepared for it, and the places of such pieces as proved least attractive in former editions are occupied by arrangements of popular melodies, especially prepared for this new edition. It is the largest collection of secular music published.
THE GLEE HIVE.A collection of glees and part songs. ByLowell MasonandG. J. Webb. Revised and enlarged edition. 50 cents.
In the revised edition a few of the heavier and more difficult pieces have been laid aside, and their place, and a number of additional pages, are filled by lighter and more pleasing compositions.
THE VOCALIST.Consisting of short and easy glees, or songs, arranged for soprano, alto, tenor, and bass voices. ByL. MasonandG. J. Webb, Professors in the Boston Academy of Music. $1.
THE BOSTON GLEE BOOK.ByLowell MasonandGeo. J. Webb. Containing the choicest of the Standard English Glees. This work has been most admired of any similar publication, and has retained its popularity unabated. $1 25.
TWENTY-ONE MADRIGALS.Selected mostly from old and distinguished composers. ByL. MasonandG. J. Webb. 50 cents.
THE MELODIST.A collection of glees and part songs. ByG. J. WebbandWm. Mason. $1.
THE SOCIAL GLEE BOOK.A collection of classic glees, mostly from the German. ByWm. MasonandSilas A. Bancroft. For skillful singers who are able to sing music of some difficulty with taste, this book is a treasure. It is filled with gems of the first water, which will not lose their luster by once wearing. The more these gems are sung, the better they will be liked. New edition. Price reduced to $1.
FIRESIDE HARMONY.A collection of glees and part songs. ByWm. Mason. $1.
FOR MEN'S VOICES.
THE YOUNG MEN'S SINGING BOOK.A collection of music for male voices, intended for use in Colleges, Theological Seminaries, and the social circle, consists of, Part I.—The Singing School. II.—Glees and part Songs. III.—Choir Tunes. IV.—Congregational Tunes. V.—Anthems, Chants, etc. ByGeorge F. Root, assisted byL. Mason. $1.