316
The servant departed, and Scott remained thoughtful for a few moments with his head bowed upon his hands. At length he looked up, gazing straight into Zula’s eyes, and said:
“Zula—if that is your name—I cannot bear deceit, but I believe that your motive has been a pure one; but I have loved you more for your beauty of thought and actions than for your loveliness of face, and now you tell me that you are not an authoress.”
“You are mistaken in that. I said I was not Miss Elsworth, the authoress, but I am ‘Auralia,’ and only a gypsy girl, the daughter of a low fortune-teller and a sister of one of the most degraded of men.”
“I have seen old Meg at her home, but I never saw you there.”
“I have not seen her for years; not since I received that cruel beating from Crisp.”
“I have sent for her, and when she comes I will ask you to step into the next apartment, as she has promised to tell me something of Irene’s history, which she claims to know, and which your presence might interfere with, but Zula,” he said, taking a step nearer to her, “I cannot help loving you if you are a gypsy girl. You must have been a brave, good girl to have fought so many hard battles, which I know you must of necessity have been compelled to do, to reach the standard you have. You have done a noble work, and however low your birth, whatever misfortune you may have met, so that you have come out of the fire purified, and with a name honored by yourself and your God, my love is still the same. Zula, this shall not317come between us. I loved the woman whom the world praised, but I love the gypsy girl none the less.”
“Scott, you have not heard it all. Do not make your decision until you have done so.”
At that moment a servant announced Mr. Le Moyne.
“I have sent for you for the promised interview,” said Scott. “Allow me the honor of presenting Miss Elsworth, the authoress.”
Mr. Le Moyne was a polished gentleman, but he failed to hide from the penetrating eyes of Scott the look of surprise which passed over his face, as his eyes fell on the gay dress in which Zula was robed. The sound of voices at the hall door soon attracted the attention of Zula, and waving her hand to Scott by way of explanation, she stepped behind the thick folds of satin which shaded the bay window near which she sat.
“You may send my mother and Mr. and Mrs. Horton to my room,” Scott said to the boy who had waited on Meg and Crisp at the door.
Mrs. Wilmer looked her surprise when she saw the ill-looking persons before her, but she made no inquiries.
Old Meg threw off the coarse shawl which she wore, and looking around the room she said, in a creaking voice:
“It seems to me you got a good many to keep your secret, but I’m sure I don’t care. You promised me gold, and so you let me go with that I don’t care.”
“Meg,” said Scott, “you have promised to tell me all you know of Irene, and when you have done so I will give you the price you have asked, and remember that318nothing but the truth will satisfy; for, bear in mind that I havesomefacts.”
Meg took a deep breath, and clasping her long bony hands together, she began:
“I was born in France. My father was a gypsy and my mother was an Irish servant girl. When my father married my mother she had a son, whose father was a handsome Irishman. I went to live with a wealthy French gentleman, and I took my boy with me. My man was dead and I had to work out, so I went to do scrub work. I had a great way of curing little folks, and as my mistress had a beautiful little baby, she soon began to think she couldn’t get along without me. After a while my mistress took it into her head to go to America, and all the servants but me was afraid to go, so I took my boy and came along. The cholera broke out on board the ship, and my master and mistress were both buried in the sea. My half-brother was on board the ship, and when the baby’s father and mother went down into the water it gave me a cunning idea. He was a handsome man, and I told him that there was a way that he might become rich. The baby’s grandpa in America had sent it many costly presents, and I told my half-brother that if he would consent we might have gold. He was an idle fellow and he fell in with the plan at once. I told him that he must dress up and pretend to be the baby’s father. It was a good idea, he said, and he would do it. When we reached New York the old gentleman had come on from San Francisco, and had everything in grand style for his daughter and her husband, but when I got there and319told him of his daughter’s death, he was almost killed, and nothing would convince him that it was his daughter’s baby, until we showed him a necklace that he had sent it; then he just give right up and it was awful the way he took on. He couldn’t bear to have the baby out of his sight. After a while he took sick, then he sent for a lawyer to make his will. He said he wanted me to stay and take care of him ’cause I had been with the baby’s mother. He had the lawyer come and make the will. He gave me a little. All the rest he left to the baby.”
Scott arose and handed Meg a glass of water.
“You’re a gentleman, anyhow,” she said; then continued her story.
“The old man didn’t seem to feel jest right about the choice his daughter had made, for he would look at John and say that he was so different from the man he thought his daughter had married. My mistress had a strange idea. She thought her husband was the handsomest man in all the world. He was a beauty, and when her father wrote to her to send his picture, she wrote back that he must wait, for her husband could not get a picture half as handsome as he was. So that old man waited, but never saw him, but he wasn’t real suited with her choice. After a while the old man died, suddenly, and it was then I got possession of the will. My half-brother and I made an agreement that he should furnish me with money and I should take care of the baby. Soon after we went to New York my brother got acquainted with a girl with a wonderful handsome face, but she was a devil. She was just out320of the hospital where her illegitimate child was born, and after a while John married her. They hadn’t been married very long till she run away with a gambler, and left the child with him. It was agreed that John should take his wife’s child and go west, and I should take the other and go some place away for fear we might get found out. That child, sir, the child of shame,” said old Meg, arising and turning to Scott, “was Irene Mapleton, your wife.”
Mrs. Wilmer groaned aloud, and said:
“Oh, Scott, my noble boy, what a world of disgrace I brought upon you.”
“Mother, do not reproach yourself,” said Scott.
“I took the other child,” continued Meg, “and a good supply of money, and going away from the city joined a band of gypsies and have since led a roving life.”
Mr. Le Moyne had grown strangely excited as he listened to old Meg’s story, and stepping toward her asked hurriedly:
“What was the old man’s name?”
“Weston.”
“And the name of the daughter’s husband?”
“Le Moyne.”
“Ah, old Meg, I have seen you before.”
Meg turned fiercely toward Mr. Le Moyne as she said:
“I don’t believe it.”
“What was the name of the child you took away with you?”
321
“She never had a name till we named her. We called her Zula.”
“Ah! Old Meg! I have seen you before.”
“Ah! Old Meg! I have seen you before.”
Scott’s face grew pale. He neither moved nor spoke, but his keen eyes were fastened on Meg’s face, with a gaze that seemed to read every act of her past life.
Mr. Le Moyne, turning toward Scott, said, in a voice trembling with excitement:
“Let me speak for a moment, and perhaps I can help to prove the story which Meg has told. Years ago a very beautiful young lady went from here to France for the purpose of gaining a knowledge of the country. She was in the company of a number of friends and their stay being of short duration, they returned leaving her in Paris. She was a writer of some note and her father being deeply engaged in business at the time, she was allowed to go without him. While there she met my brother Gustavo, and the result was a marriage.”
Crisp moved uneasily.
“She wrote to her father,” continued Mr. Le Moyne, “and, of course, he was displeased, and sent her a very harsh letter, upbraiding her for her disrespect; but the next letter she received was full of love and a plea for forgiveness. In a year’s time a child was born, and the joy of the old gentleman knew no bounds. He was growing old, and if his daughter could gain her husband’s consent to come to America, to live he would will all his property to the little one. My brother was very indulgent to his fair wife, and together they started for America. Cholera broke out on board the ship and my brother and his wife were both buried in the sea.322The servant who had been very faithful to my brother’s wife sailed with them, and now, Meg, I ask you where is the child you took away with you—my brother’s child?”
“I don’t know,” Meg answered in a husky voice.
“You do know,” said Le Moyne, while his dark eyes flashed with keen excitement.
“No, on my soul I don’t know,” said Meg, dropping on her knees, “before heaven, I don’t know.”
“How is it that you don’t know?”
“She is dead,” said Crisp.
“Dead! How do you know?” asked Scott.
“Because Irene told me she died in a madhouse.”
“What drove her to a madhouse?” asked Le Moyne.
Old Meg, still kneeling before him, was trembling like a leaf shaken by the wind.
“I don’t know,” she said. “The last time I saw her she was asleep in the tent, and she went away in a thunder storm, at night, for when we got up in the morning she was gone.”
“And you know nothing of her at all?”
“No, I have never heard from her since.”
“Then I am as much in the dark as ever,” said Le Moyne, in a despairing tone.
“Perhaps,” said a voice close by him, “I can throw some light on the subject.”
All eyes were turned as the beautiful gypsy girl stepped from behind the folds of the curtain. She advanced toward old Meg, and passing her hand over her own purple black hair, she said:
“Meg, would you know Zula if you were to see her?”
323
“Yes, yes.”
“Then I will tell you where to go. You will tire in this position,” she said, assisting Meg to rise. “Take this chair while I, too, tell a story.”
Old Meg took the chair, but kept her eyes fixed on Zula’s face.
“Perhaps I have more for which to ask forgiveness than any other one present. Years ago,” said Zula, “I lived with a band of gypsies. I may have been a bad child, but I hardly think I deserved the cruel punishment which I received at the hands of my mother and brother.”
Crisp dropped his head upon his breast.
“So often was I beaten that I grew to hate the man who called himself my brother, and I swore to have revenge, and at one time I should, no doubt, have died under the lash had it not been for the interference of a kind hearted gentleman, who happened to be hunting in the woods. The night before my escape from my persecutors I heard them talking when they thought I was asleep. The gentleman had given me his address on a card, and they, overhearing a portion of our conversation, as they entered the tent, searched me for it. I could not exactly understand, at the time, what their intentions were, but I learned enough to know that they meant to harm him in some way, but fortunately I had returned the card to the gentleman, telling him that I could remember.”
“Are you going to tell——”
Meg stopped abruptly as Zula motioned her to be324silent, and, turning her lovely eyes toward Scott, she said:
“This part of my confession, Mr. Wilmer, is more for you and your family than any other. When I left the woods I passed the night in the storm, and the darkness being so intense I could not find my way out, and after wandering about until I could go no longer, I waited under a huge tree until the morning began to dawn, when I hurried to the city for fear of being pursued. I had a small bag of money, which a friend had given me, and this I took to purchase a suit of boy’s clothing. I had resolved not to be captured by my brother again. Before donning my male attire I went to a barber shop and had my hair cut in real boy style, selling it for the sum of fifteen dollars. It happened that not long after I reached the city an advertisement appeared wanting an office boy, and Providence led me to the home of Scott Wilmer, and there I remained watching that no harm might come to him, for I had sworn to repay his kindness and that of his sister. It happened that one cold, dark night, I was obliged to go some distance from home, on an errand, and on my way back I saw a form crouching in the shadow of an old building. It excited my suspicion, and I stole behind the boards in order to determine the man’s intention. A woman soon joined him, and my heart almost stood still when I discovered that the man’s voice was that of my brother, and the woman—it matters not who.”
“Oh, you needn’t try to hide it,” said Meg.
325
“No, no,” said Crisp, knitting his coarse black brows, “you needn’t lie for Rene, for you know it was her.”
“In their conversation I found that they intended to rob my kind employer, and I swore at that moment that I would risk my own life if they attempted it. I also heard them telling of a stolen will that Crisp had in his possession, and I knew by his conversation that some one had been terribly wronged, and that it was a young girl, but I did not hear her name, if they mentioned it at all. I hurried home and waited for the would-be murderer. I had sworn, when a child, that I would shoot Crisp and I did.”
“It was you, was it?” Crisp said, springing toward Zula, with clinched fists.
“It was Zula.”
“Why did you not tell me of their intentions,” Scott asked, “and save yourself the trouble?”
Zula’s eyes were cast down, and the color came to her face, as she said:
“Because I could not bear to tell you of your wife’s wickedness, and I knew Paul could save you.”
“But where is Paul? I do not exactly understand,” said Mrs. Wilmer.
“He stands before you.”
“And Miss Elsworth, who is she?”
“She is but a gnome. Auralia and Zula the gypsy girl are one.”
Mr. Le Moyne stepped to Zula’s side.
“Then if you are Zula, you must be my brother’s long lost child,” he said, joyfully.
326
“She lies, she lies,” screamed old Meg. “She don’t look like Zula.”
Zula pushed the rich velvet sleeve back and, pointing to a long scar, said:
“You see I still carry the mark of the lash.”
“It’s a lie, it’s a lie,” shouted Crisp, “and if you don’t get more marks it will be because Crisp don’t live.”
Zula drew from her pocket the same little pistol which she had carried in her childhood days, and pointing it upward, she said in a clear, firm voice:
“Do not threaten me, Crisp; you see I carry something besides marks.”
“Keep still, Crisp, keep still,” old Meg said, in a frightened whisper.
Scott Wilmer arose to his feet. His attitude commanded the most profound silence. Old Meg sank cowering in her chair, while Crisp dared not so much as raise his eyes.
“Meg,” Scott said, “if you were a man instead of an aged woman, I should deal with you as you deserve and the law would show you no mercy. I shall make of you one request; and if you fail to comply I shall use harsher means. I have promised you five hundred dollars for the information that you have given me, but to me it is well worth the sum. Here it is; take it and leave the city, and remember, Crisp, you must bear her company.”
“You devil,” said old Meg, in an undertone, and looking angrily at Zula, “maybe I’ll get even with you yet. You are only a woman, if you can shoot.”
327
“Meg,” said Scott, “it is quite useless for you to threaten. Hereafter Zula will be under my protection. Just bear it in mind.”
“And,” said Zula, “if he finds it a great task he can just call on ‘Paul,’ and, mark me, Crisp, should he ever have occasion to use this weapon again he will not aim at your elbow.”
“Crisp, the devil is in the girl,” said Meg.
“Perhaps it is the gypsy blood coursing through her veins,” said Le Moyne, ironically, “but, Zula, darling, I can hardly believe that I have found you, and now that I have been made so happy at last, you must give me a portion of the love that you have promised Lawyer Wilmer, for you and I are the only survivors of the Le Moyne family.”
“I shall love you, dear uncle, for the sake of my father, if not for your own devotion and kindness to me.”
“God bless you, my dear girl,” said he, as he printed a kiss upon her forehead.
“God bless you, Miss Elsworth,” said June, following his example, and adding: “I suppose I may kiss Paul.”
“My dear Miss Elsworth,” said Guy, coming forward. “Is it possible that you are Zula—my little heroine of Clear Lake? I did not know that Zula possessed any talent as a writer. I thought that——”
“That you tore down the castle which she built,” she said, smiling. “You did tear the castles down for a time, but they would rise even though the builder met with boulders almost too heavy to carry. And Miss328Elsworth, I know, found more favor in your eyes than Zula ever could.”
“Will you ever forgive me?” Guy asked.
“I have nothing to forgive,” she answered, with a bright smile. “I never felt at all angry toward you, for I knew, when I grew old enough to understand, that your being a very bright boy had, in a measure, spoiled you, and made you just a bit conceited. But I have failed, of late, to find that trait in your character.”
“No,” he said, “because June found it, and compelled me to give it up.”
“Yes,” said June, “and it seemed to be quite an easy matter for him to surrender.”
“But, Guy,” said Zula, “do not forget that although you, in your boyhood days, tore down Zula’s castle, you greatly aided Miss Elsworth in laying the foundation for a more solid structure, and though Zula might sometimes cry out in vexation against you as she did that day, Miss Elsworth will ever feel grateful to the publisher, Guy Horton, for past favors.”
“Scott,” said Mrs. Wilmer, going to him and laying her hand on his arm, “do you mean to tell me that Miss Elsworth and Paul are the same?”
“Yes, mother,” Scott replied, “and the same little gypsy who tried to steal your spoons, because she had been taught to steal and knew she would be punished if she did not.”
“Zula, my dear child, can you ever forgive me?”
Zula placed her arm around Mrs. Wilmer’s neck and imprinting a kiss on her cheek she said:
“Please do not speak of it, Mrs. Wilmer. Your heart329was really better than you knew. You were always kind to Paul, and Zula will never forget it. Do not sorrow for the past, but let us live for the love that is before us.”
“Meg,” said Le Moyne, “I can hardly forgive you for your cruelty toward my brother’s child, and only that I know that it is Zula’s wish, do I spare you the full extent of justice that belongs to you. Leave the city and never dare to return. I will attend to your brother John and his mining stock later on.”
“I’ll go,” said Crisp, shivering.
“But you promised to take me to Rene,” said Meg, turning to Scott.
“To-morrow you may go and speak to her,” he said. “She lies out there in the cemetery.”
“Dead?” shrieked Meg. “Dead?”
“Yes, dead,” said Scott, “and she told me ere she died, how she had sinned against me, and of your son’s attempt to take my life.”
“Dead!” Meg repeated. “Oh, I wanted to see her just once more, for the gypsy’s curse is here yet.”
“Stay your curses, Meg; they cannot harm her now,” said Zula.
“No, they can’t harm her, but I’ll have revenge on John—yes, and on you.”
“Take your son and leave the house, Meg,” Scott said. “The coachman will drive you to your home.”
“Yes. I’ll go, but I’ll leave my curses behind me,” said Meg, as she followed Crisp out of the door.
“Mother,” Scott said, as he stepped to Zula’s side,330“I want to ask you a question. I asked Miss Elsworth one day if she would be my wife. She would not consent until she had told me the story of her life. I loved ‘Auralia’ before I ever saw her, and I loved Miss Elsworth. I pitied the child Zula, and Paul I could not live without. Since they are all one, are you willing that I should repeat the request, and if she consents can you love her with a mother’s love?”
“Oh, Scott,” said Mrs. Wilmer, with tearful eyes, “I am not worthy the love of such a daughter.”
Scott raised Zula’s hand, and clasping it firmly, said:
“Zula, I said once that I could not live without Paul, and when he came back I should take him into partnership. What do you think of the offer?”
“I think that if you and your partner can agree as well as you and your valet that as a firm you will prosper.”
“Heaven bless you, my children,” said Mrs. Wilmer, fervently. “Be happy in the love of each other.”
“Zula, my dear sister, and also my brave Paul,” said June, smiling, “I am so glad that Scott is happy. I know that I do not need to say, treat him kindly, for you cannot fail to know the true character of each other.”
“Zula, do you give your full consent?” Scott asked.
“I will refer you to my uncle,” said Zula, looking at Le Moyne, “as he is my only relative.”
“I suppose I must consent,” said Le Moyne, “for it was through Lawyer Wilmer’s management that I found you.”
331
A week later Zula stood in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Platts. They could scarcely believe the story which Zula told them, and only on condition that she remained as their daughter, would they forgive her for remaining away so long, and Zula promised, for a time, to remain. A portion of her property, which Irene’s pretended father had claimed, was given her uncle. Mapleton, in company with Meg and Crisp, left the States, and never returned.
Le Moyne, becoming tired of bachelor life, married Eunice Graves, and Ross, it is said, has formed the acquaintance of Carrie Horton, and thinks she comes very near being an angel.
An evening in winter. It is cold and stormy without, but bright and warm is the home that I shall ask you to enter with me, and look for a moment on the scene.
A man and woman are sitting by the glowing grate, watching the sport of a beautiful boy of three years of age. He has his mother’s dreamy eyes, and his father’s curling locks.
“Paul, my darling, come here,” Scott Wilmer says.
The boy climbs upon his father’s knee and, laying his bright head on Scott’s breast, says:
“Papa, I wish I was a man like you,” and as the dark lashes droop over the beautiful eyes, Zula whispers:
“God keep you, my darling boy, and when you are a man may you be like him.”
Scott smiles, and, clasping his wife’s hand, says:
332
“Zula, darling, one hour of the present happiness is enough to repay me for all the sorrows of the past.”
The scene is ended, the curtain falls, and you and I, dear reader, turn again to the busy world, each to toil, to suffer or be happy, as fate wills, until that curtain falls which shuts out the light of mortality.
THE END.
333BOOKS YOU MUST READ SOONER OR LATER
Why Not Order Now?
LlewellynA NOVELBy Hadley S. Kimberling.Cloth. $1.50.5 Illustrations by S. Klarr.
Here is a story whose artistic realism will appeal to everyone, while its distinction as a serious novel is made evident by its clever analysis, sparkling dialogue and thrilling and powerful situations. “Llewellyn” will win all hearts by her purity and charm.
Here is a story whose artistic realism will appeal to everyone, while its distinction as a serious novel is made evident by its clever analysis, sparkling dialogue and thrilling and powerful situations. “Llewellyn” will win all hearts by her purity and charm.
Satan of the Modern WorldBy E. G. Doyen.12mo, cloth, handsomely produced.$1.50.
The title of this book will arouse curiosity, and its brilliant contents will fully reward the wide public which it will reach.
The title of this book will arouse curiosity, and its brilliant contents will fully reward the wide public which it will reach.
A Missourian’s HonorBy W. W. Arnold.Cloth, 12mo. $1.00.3 Illustrations.
EvelynA Story of the West and the Far East.By Mrs. Ansel Oppenheim.4 Illus. $1.50.Limited edition in leather, $2.00.
The press has spoken of this book with unqualified terms of praise.
The Last of the CavaliersBy N. J. Floyd.9 Drawings and Author’s Photo.$1.50.
“No wiser or more brilliant pen has told the story of the Civil War than Capt. Floyd’s; no work more thrilling simply as a romance has recently been within the reach of book-lovers.”
“No wiser or more brilliant pen has told the story of the Civil War than Capt. Floyd’s; no work more thrilling simply as a romance has recently been within the reach of book-lovers.”
The Instrument TunedBy Rosa B. Hitt.Attractive Binding, 75 cents.Limited Edition in White and Gold, $1.00,(Author’s photo.)
An able and interesting work on a comparatively new subject—Psycho-physical culture—of whose methods the author has made successful application. The book is full of common-sense suggestions and is admirably adapted to the needs of humanity in general.The chapter-captions will give an excellent idea of the comprehensive and practical character of the work:Various Therapeutic Agents.Influence of Mind.Extravagant Emotions.Insomnia.Relaxation.Harmony the Law of Nature.
An able and interesting work on a comparatively new subject—Psycho-physical culture—of whose methods the author has made successful application. The book is full of common-sense suggestions and is admirably adapted to the needs of humanity in general.
The chapter-captions will give an excellent idea of the comprehensive and practical character of the work:
Various Therapeutic Agents.Influence of Mind.Extravagant Emotions.Insomnia.Relaxation.Harmony the Law of Nature.
Various Therapeutic Agents.Influence of Mind.Extravagant Emotions.Insomnia.Relaxation.Harmony the Law of Nature.
Various Therapeutic Agents.
Influence of Mind.
Extravagant Emotions.
Insomnia.
Relaxation.
Harmony the Law of Nature.
All of the books named in this magazine to be had from any newsdealer, or
Order Now
MarcelleA Tale of the RevolutionBy Willibert Davis and Claudia Brannon.12mo, cloth. Illustrated.$1.00.
A fascinating story of the Revolutionary period, in dramatic form, in which the treachery of Benedict Arnold and the capture of Major Andre are the climaxes. The loves of Andre and Marcelle (herself a spy) lend a very charming touch of romance.
A fascinating story of the Revolutionary period, in dramatic form, in which the treachery of Benedict Arnold and the capture of Major Andre are the climaxes. The loves of Andre and Marcelle (herself a spy) lend a very charming touch of romance.
The Burton ManorA NOVELBy Rev. M. V. Brown.12mo, cloth. $1.50.
A most thoughtful, able and authoritative work in engaging narrative form, dealing with the existing evils of the liquor trade. The author has wisely embodied his conclusions in charming fiction—or fact?—and thus the book will appeal to a public as wide as the continent.
A most thoughtful, able and authoritative work in engaging narrative form, dealing with the existing evils of the liquor trade. The author has wisely embodied his conclusions in charming fiction—or fact?—and thus the book will appeal to a public as wide as the continent.
Lady CenturyBy Mrs. A. G. Kintzel.4 Drawings by Hartman.Decorated cover in black, red and gold.$1.50.
Critics who have seen the book declare it superior to “Leave Me My Honor,” the success which has recently brought Mrs. Kintzel into prominence as a story-teller who has something to say and can say it.“Sparkling from cover to cover.”
Critics who have seen the book declare it superior to “Leave Me My Honor,” the success which has recently brought Mrs. Kintzel into prominence as a story-teller who has something to say and can say it.
“Sparkling from cover to cover.”
NAN & SUEStenographersBy Harriet C. Cullaton.$1.00.
You’ve no doubt heard of this book! It stands all alone in the originality of its title and subject, and everyone knows how charming a subject “Nan & Sue, Stenographers,” must be. It is the diary of a typewriting office in New York run by two young and pretty girls who have the most amusing adventures. The book’s appearance is as original and charming as Nan and Sue themselves.
You’ve no doubt heard of this book! It stands all alone in the originality of its title and subject, and everyone knows how charming a subject “Nan & Sue, Stenographers,” must be. It is the diary of a typewriting office in New York run by two young and pretty girls who have the most amusing adventures. The book’s appearance is as original and charming as Nan and Sue themselves.
Order now and join the procession on the autumn 10th edition.
Told at TwilightBy Eva Browne.A delightful collection of stories and poems.(Author’s photo.)$1.00.
Job TrotterBy Sylvester Field.50c.
A unique work, proving that the “earthly paradise” of the colored race is Africa. This book is decidedly the best work that has yet appeared on the subject.
A unique work, proving that the “earthly paradise” of the colored race is Africa. This book is decidedly the best work that has yet appeared on the subject.
The Sin of IgnoranceBy Henrietta Siegel.$1.00.
An exceedingly clever story, by a New York girl, who pictures with a fearless hand the domestic misery resulting from drink and dissipation.
An exceedingly clever story, by a New York girl, who pictures with a fearless hand the domestic misery resulting from drink and dissipation.
(4 special drawings.)
*** New Book by the Author ofA Girl and the Devil!
We beg to announce for autumn a new novel from the pen ofJeannette Llewellyn Edwards, entitled
LOVE IN THE TROPICS
The scene of Miss Edwards’ new work is laid in strange lands, and a treat may be confidently promised the wide reading public whose interest in her first book has caused it to run through over a dozen editions.
The scene of Miss Edwards’ new work is laid in strange lands, and a treat may be confidently promised the wide reading public whose interest in her first book has caused it to run through over a dozen editions.
“LOVE IN THE TROPICS”will be ready about November 1, and particulars will be duly announced.
The New WomanhoodBy WINNIFRED H. COOLEY.$1.25.
No more original, striking and brilliant treatise on the subject indicated by the title has been given the vast public which is watching the widening of woman’s sphere. Mrs. Cooley is a lecturer and writer of many years experience; she is in the vanguard of the movement and no one is better qualified to speak to the great heart of womankind.
No more original, striking and brilliant treatise on the subject indicated by the title has been given the vast public which is watching the widening of woman’s sphere. Mrs. Cooley is a lecturer and writer of many years experience; she is in the vanguard of the movement and no one is better qualified to speak to the great heart of womankind.