CONCLUSION
"Against the whiteness of the wall
Be living verdure seen,--
Sweet summer memories to recall,
And keep your Christmas green."
ALL through the long hot summer months Miss Billy had been doing what
she could for Cherry Street. Now Cherry Street was doing what it
could for Miss Billy.
"Grass, is it, she'd be afther loikin' to see, whin she gits up?"
said Mr. Hennesy. "Sure an' we're ploughin' good sod undher iv'ry day
av our lives,--loads av it. John Thomas, see that ye bring home a
wagon load of it 'ach noight, an' O'il be doin' the same."
John Thomas brought the sod, and the street fell to with a will. Dusk
fell earlier than in the summer, but there was still time left after
the day's labour was over and the supper cleared away. The children
dug and raked the hard soil, and the men rolled the velvety sod into
strips of green parking bordering the sidewalks, and spread it into
green lawns in their own dooryards. The enthusiasm spread like a
fever. Aaron Levi's father brought home a can of paint, and began
experimentally to turn his shabby brown house into a white house with
green blinds. The street beheld, and hurried to do likewise, scarcely
waiting for Francis' assurance that every cent of expense should be
taken off the rent. Every house was freshly painted,--and because the
underlying thought was of Miss Billy, and because they thought she
would like it so, they painted uniformly white, with green blinds.
Besides all this, down the middle of the street a score of men, day
after day, threw up the rocky soil into long mounds, and at last
the sewer pipe that was to connect with every dwelling, was laid,
with all Cherry Street looking into the hole, as if it had been
the dedication of a church. No more cesspools and typhoid fever for
Cherry Street! It had been too near to losing Miss Billy. But Mr.
Schultzsky would have made the concession for none other.
The Street Improvement Club, cast at first into the depths of despair
at their brave little captain's grave illness, and raised now to
heights of enthusiasm by her convalescence, were everywhere! Chewing
gum wrappers were voted a nuisance: Paper bags were frowned upon:
Banana skins were not to be tolerated: Tomato cans were a crime!
Everywhere over the street presided a new goddess,--the Goddess of
Cleanliness,--while the girl who had wrought the change lay in the
little green room, being slowly nursed back to life.
It was after the Improvement Club, under the advice of Francis, had
taken the proceeds of the lawn social from the little tin box, and
invested it in young shade trees, that proudly skirted the sidewalks
twenty feet apart, that Francis snapped his final picture from the
head of the street. After it was developed he compared it to that
other taken on the August morning. The results appeared to satisfy
him. "They are an object lesson," he said, "fit to point a moral or
adorn a tale," and he mailed them in a big official looking envelope
to "Peter Hanson, Florist,--New York,--Prize Street Competition."
It was this very day, too, that Miss Billy was placed in an easy
chair, and taken to the window for the first time since her illness.
"Oh, it's such a green world, motherie mine; such a beautiful, sunny,
green world, that it hurts my eyes. And--why--but everything wasn't
all green like that when I went to bed. What can have happened!"
"That is enough for to-day," said the nurse authoritatively, and
Miss Billy was put back to bed. But she had caught a glimpse of
Mr. Schultzsky's house, and it was painted white!--Of the little
Bohemian maid swinging placidly to and fro in the rocking chair on
an immaculate little white porch!--Of a stretch of restful green
grass, where before had been weeds!--and right in the middle of the
front yard had bloomed a huge tub of scarlet geraniums! ("She will
like to see that," Francis had said,--and through the long beautiful
fall which stretched into December, he had placed a covering over the
flowers every night to protect them from possible frosts.) Miss Billy
had seen, and two hectic spots of excitement burned on her cheeks.
"Cherry Street is remodelled, inside and out," said Mrs. Lee gently.
"Francis has made Mr. Schultzsky see the expense of it in the
light of a sound business proposition, and the rest of it has been
done by the people themselves, for love of you. But there, little
daughter,--it's nothing to cry about!"
"I'm not crying," said Miss Billy valiantly, the big tears chasing
each other down her cheeks. "Don't you see that I'm laughing, and
happy, and thankful? Oh, it is so nice to come back to this dear,
beautiful world!"
There were informal receptions held in the little green room as she
grew daily stronger. Marie Jean, still with the trailing dresses, but
with the heavy frizzes forever gone,--John Thomas, freckled of face
and worshipful, alert to Miss Billy's slightest wish,--Mr. Hennesy,
brimful of cheer and whimsical philosophy,--Mrs. Hennesy, overflowing
with kindness and neighbourly apologies,--Mr. Schultzsky, stoical,
yet changed,--Holly Belle, who whispered with shy blushes that beside
her finger exercises Miss Margaret had given her a "piece," with
variations: and every day Margaret and Francis, and the members of
the Improvement Club, who sat about and gazed at Miss Billy restored
to them and were thankful.
It was the eighteenth of December when the first snow came sifting
down. It covered the green lawns, and wrapped the young shade trees,
and whitened the roofs of the little white houses. And not till then
did Cherry Street remember that summer was gone and Christmas was
near.
"We'll have a Christmas tree big enough for everybody," said
Theodore. "John Thomas and I will go out and buy the largest we can
find, and set it up in the parlour."
"Oh, it will be fine," said Margaret, clapping her hands. "Let us get
at it right away."
The Christmas tree was brought, a noble fir,--and set up in the
corner of the parlour amidst much bustle and confusion and laughter.
John Thomas popped the corn, Miss Billy threaded it in whitened
strings, Francis tacked up the evergreen boughs and holly, while
Beatrice assisted,--a pretty picture with the heavy foliage held high
above her head, and her sleeves falling away from her white arms.
Margaret, in the kitchen, was aiding Maggie in making the cherished
Christmas "pfeffernes," and as the little German cakes baked, the
sweet spicy smell filled the air.
Theodore, on a stepladder, was hanging the mistletoe. "It smells
Christmassy already," he announced hungrily. "Why doesn't Margaret
make a bushel of those things? I could eat all she has there at one
bite. Marie Jean, just hand me up a bit of that red ribbon, will you?"
Marie Jean's long arm stretched up the ladder, and Theodore leaned
down. There was a resounding smack, and Marie Jean, with a scream of
agitation, tripped over a rug and fell headlong into the arms of the
Christmas tree.
"Land o' love!" she ejaculated, extricating herself from the
branches. "Theodore Lee, I've a mind to slap you."
"The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall,"
recited Theodore, putting as much feeling as he could into it without
swallowing the tacks in his mouth. "Marie Jean, I expect to slay my
thousands under this thing. But if you'd like to slap me, you can
come again and try it."
"No, thanks," said Marie Jean, settling her ruffled plumage with
dignity.
"Now," went on the irrepressible Theodore, "if good Kris Kringle
will only hang a wig on the Christmas tree for Miss Billy,--nothing
expensive or rich, of course, like her own hair was--but----"
Involuntarily Miss Billy's hands flew up to her shorn locks, but John
Thomas came sturdily to the defence.
"Miss Billy's a heap prettier with her hair short like that, and
curling all over her head in little rings. She wasn't half so pretty
when it was long."
"John Thomas," said Theodore, with a pitying stare, "it's my opinion
that you would think Miss Billy handsome if she was as bald as a
Chinese mandarin. It's a prominent symptom of the disease."
John Thomas returned abruptly to his popcorn, and Miss Billy, in the
absence of anything better, and with a flash of the old time fire in
her eyes, threw a handful of popcorn at the tormentor.
"Perhaps you would like to sample these cakes," said Margaret,
standing floury and smiling in the doorway, with a plate in her
hand. "Francis, it is less than six months ago that you and I sat in
the mud of a side street in Cologne, while a rain of these lovely
little cakes fell about our devoted heads. I little thought I should
be making some for you at Christmas time."
"We cannot foretell the future," said Theodore solemnly. "Next
Christmas--who knows?--we may all be in 'der faderland,' honourable
attachees of the household of the Count and Countess Lindsay. Miss
Billy can be 'lady in waiting,' and hold up your sky-blue green
pink train, Margaret,--and John Thomas can be Buttons at the front
door----"
"The last five months have certainly been an unexpected and pleasant
experience for me," interrupted Francis. "But play time is over. I
shall be off for New York Saturday."
"To stay--forever?" appealed Miss Billy piteously. "Oh, Francis,--I
can't spare you."
There were tears in her eyes, and he took the small white hand
between his own brown palms.
"Not forever, Miss Billy," he said gently. "I hope to come back
again,--many times; and some of the goodness, and brightness, and
helpfulness of Cherry Street shall always be with me, wherever I am."
"And I," said Margaret, with a little sigh, "shall return to Cologne
next month; I, too, shall miss Cherry Street, but nothing shall
sadden me now that Billy is well."
"I have a lump in my throat as I dwell upon the inevitableness of
human destiny," said Theodore. "But honestly, Lindsay, we shall miss
you. As for you, Margaret,
"Maid of _Col_-ogne, ere we part,
Give, O give me back my heart."
"You gave it to Marie Jean the night of the lawn social," rejoined
Margaret promptly. "I didn't want it, you know,--it was so warm and
sticky."
"And I didn't know what to do with it, so I ate it," said Marie Jean,
with a giggle. "I remember it was flavoured with peppermint."
"Cannibal!" murmured Theodore,--and lapsed into injured silence.
Beatrice and Francis had returned to the holly wreaths. "We shall be
sorry to have you go," she said, her eyes on the branches in her lap.
"What you said about Cherry Street made me want to cry. I, certainly,
in the past, have not been a part of the goodness and brightness
and helpfulness. Before you go, let me tell you I am sorry for
everything."
"And I am glad." He took from her lap as he spoke a bit of the holly
and broke it in two. "Keep this," he said, "and I shall keep the
other half, 'sweet summer memories to recall,'--till I come again."
Christmas eve fell softly upon Cherry Street wrapped in its snowy
mantle, with a pale silver moon like a crescent of promise, shining
low down in the west.
"When I saw it last," said Holly Belle, "it was over my left
shoulder, and I thought Miss Billy was goin' to die."
"An' I heard the death tick in the wall," said Mrs. Canary, "an'
dreampt of white horses three nights hand runnin'. I never knew the
signs to fail before."
"Signs can't hurt Miss Billy," said Holly Belle with conviction, as
she hastened the little Canarys into their holiday attire. "She don't
believe in 'em--nor dream books, nor nothin'. An' I ain't a-goin' to
after this, neither."
"Holly Belle," said Mrs. Canary impressively, "the night yer
grandfather died I was a sittin' there by the window----"
"I don't care," broke in Holly Belle stoutly: ("Fridoline, hold up
yer chin! How can I fasten yer necktie when yer leanin' it down like
that!)--I don't care fer all the old signs in the world. Miss Billy
don't believe in 'em, an' I ain't a-goin' to, neither."
In the Hennesy home, Mr. Hennesy had brought out the ancient coat,
and was struggling into one of John Thomas's collars. It was fastened
at last, and Mr. Hennesy regarded his appearance in the glass with
interest. "All Oi do be nadin'," he commented, "is a check rein
from the top av me head to me shoulder blades, to make me be lookin'
loike a four-year-old colt. John Thomas, wan av these days whin ye go
to bite off a bit av tough mate, ye'll hit on wan av these aidges an'
cut yer jugglery vein. Moind now, what O'im sayin'."
[Illustration: "All Oi do be nadin'" ... "is a check rein from the
top av me head to me shoulder blades."]
At Number 12 Cherry Street there was warmth and light and glow.
Out in the kitchen the smiling Maggie presided over two boilers of
coffee and a table full of iced cakes and confections. As the guests
began to arrive the folding doors between the minister's study and
the parlour were thrown open, and the Christmas tree, glowing with
coloured balls and wax tapers, stood revealed. The Street Improvement
Club, to a man, greeted the glittering spectacle with delight,
but the ecstasy of some of the younger members became suddenly
extinguished in their mothers' skirts at the sudden appearance of an
exceedingly corpulent Saint Nicholas in the parlour door.
"Ladies and Gentlemen,--Members of the Street Improvement Club and
Fellow Citizens:" began the jolly Saint, keeping his whiskers applied
with one hand, and gesticulating gracefully with the other;--"Owing
to a stringency in the money market, this tree is mostly made up
of tarlatan bags containing nuts, candy and popcorn, with verses
of excellent poetry thrown in. You will observe that the greater
share of the gifts seem to be for the children, and for young ladies
between the ages of sixteen and twenty,--but there are a few trinkets
for all, and plenty of good will beside."
Here the good Saint paused, and was obliged to hold on his whiskers
with both hands, and he viewed the facial contortions of Ikey Levi,
who wanted to cry and was afraid the Saint might not like it.
"I find here, attached to one of the most prominent branches," went
on Saint Nicholas, "a charming female savage in a short skirt and
a feather head-dress. It is marked 'for Marie Jean Hennesy, from
Theodore L--.' It also bears this inscription:
"This tender maid of dusky shade,
Eats lovers' hearts,--beware!
She'll take them raw, like cabbage slaw,
Or overdone or rare.
"Will Miss Hennesy step up to receive her gift? I regret that Mr.
Theodore cannot be with us this evening to receive his thanks in
person.
"Here also, is a beautiful toy omnibus, from the same benevolent
source, with a pair of spirited horses attached, and a handsome
driver atop. It is marked 'Miss Billy,' and the following tender
verse accompanies it:
"A maiden once reasoned her thus--
'I think I shall hire a whole bus:'
She rode on the top, and the people did stop
And declared that it couldn't be wuss!
"I regret that I do not find a snuff box on the boughs for Herr
Lindsay. In its absence I shall beg him to accept the trifling gift
of this tin trumpet, that he may be able to blow his own horn when
he is far away, and Cherry Street can no longer blow it for him. Is
Mr. Lindsay present?"
The gifts were being rapidly distributed, and the jolly Saint's
charming speeches could no longer be heard above the happy talk and
laughter. Holly Belle hugged a leather music roll and a copy of "Five
Little Peppers" to her breast, Ikey Levi played the long roll on a
red drum, Pius Coffey made his toilet before the wee-est of pocket
mirrors, with the wee-est of pocket combs, and Beatrice held a single
long-stemmed American Beauty rose in her hand, when Saint Nicholas
rapped loudly for order.
"I find here, on the very topmost bough," he announced, "a blue
envelope addressed to Miss Wilhelmina Lee, President of Cherry Street
Improvement Club. Open it and read it aloud, Miss Billy."
Miss Billy cut the sealed edge, and a slip of blue paper fluttered
to the floor. Then with surprise, delight, excitement and wavering
distrust in her tones, she read aloud the following letter:
"NEW YORK, _December 22, 19--_.
"MISS WILHELMINA LEE,
"_President Improvement Club,
"Cherry Street, J---- City_.
"DEAR MADAM:--
"We herewith enclose you our check for one hundred dollars,
as agreed by us in our prize offer of August last. The
pictures you sent easily won the prize for marked street
improvement, although there were many competitors. Wishing
you all success in your work,
"We are
"Very respectfully,
"PETER HANSON & CO.,
"Florists, New York."
"Is it a joke?" said Miss Billy, looking at Saint Nicholas as if she
didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
But the good Saint, holding his whiskers in his hand in the
excitement of the moment, had stooped to the floor for the bit of
blue paper, and was examining it closely in the glow of the tree.
"It's genuine, all right," he answered. "It's Peter Hanson's check
for one hundred dollars on the First National Bank of New York."
"It came this afternoon," said Francis smilingly,--"and knowing what
it might be, I received it and put it on the tree for you. I took the
last snap shot and sent it away while you were ill, Miss Billy."
A prolonged, mighty, deafening cheer went up from the assembled
throats of the Improvement Club,--a glorified cheer,--a cheer of
triumph, pride, and growing strength, with cat-calls innumerable
tacked on to the end. The astonished Maggie, entering the door with a
tray piled high with plates and napkins, was brushed lightly aside by
Mr. Hennesy.
"Clare the middle av the room," he shouted in stentorian tones: "I'm
a-goin' to cut a pigeon wing."
"Three cheers for Miss Billy," proposed Francis.
"And now a tiger for Francis," returned Miss Billy, and the hubbub,
but just ended, rose again.
"An' another fer the frinds av the Club," said Mr. Hennesy, shaking
hands right and left with everybody.
Saint Nicholas, with his whiskers readjusted, rapped once more for
order. "Let me suggest, my friends," he said, "that we give one last
lusty cheer for Cherry Street. One, two, three--_Now_!"
THE END
* * * * *
Dorothy South
A Love Story of Virginia Before the War
By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON
Author of "A Carolina Cavalier"
Illustrated by C.D. Williams. 12mo, dark red cloth, portrait cover,
rough edges, gilt top, $1.50
THIS distinguished author gives us a most fascinating picture of
Virginia's golden age, her fair sons and daughters, beautiful,
picturesque homes, and the luxurious, bountiful life of the
old-school gentleman. Dorothy South has been described in these
characteristic words by Frank R. Stockton: "Learned, lovely; musical,
lovely; loving, lovely; so goes Dorothy through the book, and sad
would be the fate of poor Arthur Brent, and all of us, if she could
be stolen out of it." This is a typically pretty story, clear and
sweet and pure as the Southern sky.
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
A Carolina Cavalier
A Romance of the Carolinas
By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON
Bound in red silk cloth, Illustrated cover, gilt top, rough edges.
Six drawings by C.D. Williams. Size, 5 × 7-3/4. Price $1.50
A strong, delightful romance of Revolutionary days, most
characteristic of its vigorous author, George Cary Eggleston. The
story is founded on absolute happenings and certain old papers of
the historic Rutledges of Carolina. As a love story, it is sweet
and true; and as a patriotic novel it is grand and inspiring.
The historic setting, and the fact that it is distinctively and
enthusiastically American, have combined to win instant success for
the book.
Louisville Courier Journal: "A fine story of
adventure, teeming with life and aglow with color."
Cleveland World: "There is action, plot, and fire.
Love and valor and loyalty play a part that enhances one's
respect for human nature."
Baltimore Sun: "The story is full of movement. It is
replete with adventure. It is saturated with love."
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
The Master of Warlock
By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON, Author of "Dorothy South," "A
Carolina Cavalier." Six Illustrations by C.D. Williams.
12mo. Dark red cloth, illustrated cover, gilt top, rough
edges. Price, $1.50 each.
"THE MASTER OF WARLOCK" has an interesting plot, and is full of
purity of sentiment, charm of atmosphere, and stirring doings. One
of the typical family feuds of Virginia separates the lovers at
first; but, when the hero goes to the war, the heroine undergoes many
hardships and adventures to serve him, and they are happily united in
the end.
* * * * *
Dorothy South
A STORY OF VIRGINIA JUST BEFORE THE WAR
Baltimore Sun says:
"No writer in the score and more of novelists now exploiting the
Southern field can, for a moment, compare in truth and interest
to Mr. Eggleston. In the novel before us we have a peculiarly
interesting picture of the Virginian in the late fifties. We are
taken into the life of the people. We are shown the hearts of men
and women. Characters are dearly drawn, and incidents are skilfully
presented."
* * * * *
A Carolina Cavalier
A STIRRING TALE OF WAR AND ADVENTURE
Philadelphia Home Advocate says:
"As a love story, 'A Carolina Cavalier' is sweet and true; but as a
patriotic novel, it is grand and inspiring. We have seldom found a
stronger and simpler appeal to our manhood and love of country."
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY OF
_The_ SPENDERS
By HARRY LEON WILSON, Author of "The Lions of the
Lord." Red silk cloth, rough edges, picture cover. Six
illustrations by Rose Cecil O'Neill. Size, 5-1/4 by 7-3/4.
Postpaid, $1.50. 55th Thousand.
HARRY THURSTON PECK, in the _New York American_, says: "The
very best two books written by Americans during the past year have
been 'The Spenders,' by Harry Leon Wilson, and 'The Pit,' by Frank
Norris."
MARK TWAIN writes to the author: "It cost me my day yesterday.
You owe me $400. But never mind, I forgive you for the book's sake."
LOUISVILLE COURIER-JOURNAL says: "If there is such a thing
as the American novel of a new method, this is one. Absolutely to
be enjoyed is it from the first page to the last, founded on the
elemental truth that 'the man is the strongest who, Ancæan-like,
stands with his feet upon the earth.' It is the strong tale of
three generations, and told in the romances of the grandson and
granddaughter of the original rugged pioneer of the Western country,
Peter Bines."
THE BOOKMAN says: "Uncle Peter is a well-drawn, interesting,
picturesque, and, above all, a genuine American product.... The
dénouement is one that would be well worth reading for, even if the
body of the book were dull."
BROOKLYN DAILY EAGLE says: "It is coruscating in wit, daring
in love, and biting in its palpable caricature of many well-known
persons in New York society; but it is so very much more than a
clever society novel making the bid of audacity for ephemeral craze."
CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD says: "Very few novels of the day have
the sterling strength, the force, and the roomy outlook of Harry Leon
Wilson's 'The Spenders.' Every page of it is virile, and, what is
more, it combines true insight into men with a strong humor."
CHRISTIAN HERALD says: "The character drawing throughout the
book is masterly, but Peter Bines deserves a slab in the literary
Hall of Fame."
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
The Lions of the Lord
By HARRY LEON WILSON
Author of "The Spenders." Six illustrations by Rose Cecil
O'Neill, bound in dark green cloth, illustrated cover,
12mo. $1.50, postpaid.
In his romance of the old West, "The Lions of the Lord," Mr. Wilson,
whose "The Spenders" is one of the successes of the present year,
shows an advance in strength and grasp both in art and life. It is
a thrilling tale of the Mormon settlement of Salt Lake City, with
all its grotesque comedy, grim tragedy, and import to American
civilization. The author's feeling for the Western scenery affords
him an opportunity for many graphic pen pictures, and he is equally
strong in character and in description. For the first time in a novel
is the tragi-comedy of the Mormon development adequately set forth.
Nothing fresher or more vital has been produced by a native novelist.
* * * * *
The Spenders
By HARRY LEON WILSON
55th Thousand
Author of "The Lions of the Lord." Red silk cloth, rough
edges, picture cover. Six illustrations by Rose Cecil
O'Neill. 12mo. $1.50, postpaid.
Mark Twain writes to the author: "It cost me my day yesterday.
You owe me $400. But never mind, I forgive you for the book's sake."
Louisville Courier-Journal says: "If there is such a thing as
the American novel of a new method, this is one. Absolutely to be
enjoyed is it from the first page to the last."
Harry Thurston Peck, in the New York American, says: "The very
best two books written by Americans during the past year have been
'The Spenders,' by Harry Leon Wilson, and 'The Pit,' by Frank Norris."
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY, BOSTON
* * * * *
Jezebel
A Romance in the Days When Ahab Was King
By LAFAYETTE McLAWS
Author of "When the Land Was Young"
Illustrated by Corwin K. Linson. 12mo, red cloth, illustrated cover,
rough edges, $1.50
THE promise in Miss McLaws's first book has been more than realized
in "Jezebel," a work of singular power and insight. It is a Biblical
tale of the days when Elijah was a prophet of Jehovah. When Ahab
comes to the throne, and Jezebel, his wife, sets up the worship of
Baal, the prophets and believers of Israel are incensed against the
queen; and Jezebel begins a fierce persecution of her enemies. This
contest is the chief motive of the story. Miss McLaws presents this
strong-willed, beautiful queen in a novel and striking manner; the
book is replete with dramatic situations, the action is rapid and
stirring, and the dénouement is original and startling.
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
When the Land was Young
Being the True Romance of Mistress Antoinette Huguenin and Captain
Jack Middleton
By LAFAYETTE McLAWS. Bound in green cloth, illustrated cover, gilt
top, rough edges. Six drawings by Will Crawford Size, 5 × 7-3/4.
Price, $1.50
[Illustration]
THE heroine, Antoinette Huguenin, a beauty of King Louis' Court, is
one of the most attractive figures in romance; while Lumulgee, the
great war chief of the Choctaws, and Sir Henry Morgan, the Buccaneer
Knight and terror of the Spanish Main, divide the honors with hero
and heroine. The time was full of border wars between the Spaniards
of Florida and the English colonists, and against this historical
background Miss McLaws has thrown a story that is absorbing,
dramatic, and brilliant.
NEW YORK WORLD:
"Lovely Mistress Antoinette Huguenin! What a girl she is!"
NEW YORK JOURNAL:
"A story of thrill and adventure."
SAVANNAH NEWS:
"Among the entertaining romances based upon the colonial
days of American history this novel will take rank as one
of the most notable--a dramatic and brilliant story."
ST. LOUIS GLOBE-DEMOCRAT:
"If one is anxious for a thrill, he has only to read a
few pages of 'When the Land was Young' to experience the
desired sensation.... There is action of the most virile
type throughout the romance.... It is vividly told, and
presents a realistic picture of the days 'when the land was
young.'"
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
The Captain
By CHURCHILL WILLIAMS, author of "J. Devlin--Boss."
Illustrated by A.I. Keller. 12mo. Dark red cloth,
decorative cover, rough edges. Price, $1.50 each.
WHO is the Captain? thousands of readers of this fine book will be
asking. It is a story of love and war, of scenes and characters
before and daring the great civil conflict. It has lots of color and
movement, and the splendid figure naming the book dominates the whole.
* * * * *
J. Devlin--Boss
A ROMANCE OF AMERICAN POLITICS. Blue cloth, decorative
cover. 12mo. Price, $1.50.
Mary E. Wilkins says:
"I am delighted with your book. Of all the first novels, I believe
yours is the very best. The novel is American to the core. The spirit
of the times is in it. It is inimitably clever. It is an amazing
first novel, and no one except a real novelist could have written it."
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
Judith's Garden
By MARY E. STONE BASSETT
With illustrations in color by George Wright. Text printed
in two colors throughout, with special ornamentation. 8vo,
light green silk cloth, rough edges, gilt top, $1.50
AN exquisite, delicious, charming book, as fresh as new-mown hay, as
fragrant as the odor from the garden of the gods. It is the story
of a garden, a woman, and a man. The woman is delicate and refined,
witty, and interesting; the man is Irish, funny, original, happy,--a
delicious and perfect foil to the woman. His brogue is stunning, and
his wit infectious and fetching. The garden is quite all right. There
is movement in the book; life is abundant, and it attracts. It will
catch the interest of every lover of flowers,--and their name is
legion,--and will delight and comfort every reader.
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
* * * * *
The Kidnapped Millionaires
A Story of Wall Street and Mexico
By FREDERICK U. ADAMS. 12mo, cloth, $1.50
ONE of the most timely and startling stories of the day. A plan to
form a great Newspaper Trust, evolved in the brain of an enterprising
special correspondent, leads to the kidnapping of certain leading
Metropolitan millionaires and marooning them luxuriously on a Mexican
headland; the results--the panic in Wall Street, the search for the
kidnapped millionaires, their discovery and rescue are the chief
motives of the story, which has to do also with trusts, syndicates,
newspaper methods, and all the great monetary problems and financial
methods of the day. The story is full of adventure, full of humor,
and full of action and surprises, while the romance that develops in
its progress is altogether charming and delightful.
Lothrop Publishing Company--Boston
[Transcriber's Note: Obvious printer errors and spelling/punctuation
inconsistencies have been corrected without note.]