“ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL”
Meanwhile, Cleve, Palma, their children, servant, and, last and
loftiest, The O’Melaghlin were coming over as fast as wind and steam
could bring them.
They had unusually fine weather for the whole trip. They made some very
pleasant acquaintances, and formed some very fast friendships among
their fellow passengers, with whom they were all very popular.
The eccentricities of The O’Melaghlin were endless sources of amusement
to the passengers as to our own party, to whom they were also causes of
frequent annoyance.
For instance, O’Melaghlin always addressed Mr. Cleve Stuart as
“Wolfscliff.” And not infrequently, when he had had too much wine for
dinner, the chieftain would hail his friend from across the table as
“O’Wolfscliff,” or speak of him to another person as “The O’Wolfscliff.”
Besides this, he would reiterate, in season and out of season, his
injunction that Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart should preserve, inviolate,
the secret of his relationship to Mike and Judy.
“Moind ye don’t let on to them,” he repeated. “I am to be inthrodooced
as a frind of your own, claiming, in right of you, the hospitality of
Misther and Misthress Randolph Hay. And I am to have a week or tin days
to observe me childer before they suspect me. That will lave me find
them out as they are widout pritinces. Do ye moind?”
“Oh, yes,” Stuart would reply, heartily tired, yet half amused at the
man’s persistence.
“And yerself will not brathe a syllable that will lave them suspict I’m
anything to themselves, Misthress Stuart?” he persevered, turning to
Palma.
“Not a syllable, O’Melaghlin,” she answered.
This funny persecution ceased for the time, to be renewed as soon as
they landed at Liverpool, and continued all the way from that city to
York, and from there to Chuxton.
“Not a hint, not a breath, not a look, to bethray to the childer that
they behold in me the father of them, and a discindint of the ancient
kings of Meath,” he said, as the train drew into the Chuxton station.
“‘Not a hint, not a breath, not a look’ from us shall betray your
secret, O’Melaghlin,” Cleve assured him.
“No, indeed,” Palma added.
“Be the powers, if ye bethray me, I nivir spake to aither of yez again.”
“There,” said Stuart, as they all rose to leave the train, “there is Mr.
Randolph Hay himself come in the barouche to meet us.”
“Where?” demanded The O’Melaghlin.
“There, on the other side of the road. That gentleman in the open
carriage with the fine bays and the footman in russet livery,” replied
Cleve, pointing to the “turnout.”
“Be the club of Konn! That foine fellow the son-in-law of meself!”
“Yes, indeed!”
“The gintleman that married me Judy when she was a nady orphan, and he
didn’t suspict she could be the daughter of a hundred kings?”
“The very same.”
“Let me at him!” exclaimed The O’Melaghlin, pushing to the front and
passing through the crowd on the platform to the side of the barouche,
just as Ran got down from his seat to welcome his friends.
“I’m The O’Melaghlin, Misther Hay. And it’s proud I am to make the
acquaintance of ye. You’re a noble man, that ye are—that ye are.
Wolfscliff is behoind. I could not wait for him to inthrodooce you. But
I’m The O’Melaghlin, and you are Misther Hay!” he exclaimed, seizing the
hand of Ran and shaking it to nearly dislocation.
Ran was somewhat dismayed, not knowing how to account for this
overwhelming salute that almost deprived him of the power to respond,
and say:
“I am very happy to meet you, Mr. O’Melaghlin.”
“Misther?” repeated the chief, prompt to take exception to such a common
title applied to himself.
But fortunately Stuart came up, shook hands with Ran and then presented
Palma, who was warmly welcomed by her cousin.
“And now, Wolfscliff, will ye be afther inthrodoocing Misther Hay to
meself?” demanded Ran’s father-in-law.
“Pardon, I thought you had,” said Stuart.
“Divil a bit could I do that same to his intilligince,” replied the
other.
“Then I will have that honor,” laughed Stuart.
And assuming the courtly dignity of a lord chamberlain at a royal
reception, he bowed to the descendant of Irish kings, and with a wave of
his hand, to indicate the inferior person, said:
“The O’Melaghlin, of Arghalee, I have the honor to present to you, sir,
Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore.”
Ran bowed very solemnly, conscious now that he stood in the presence of
an “eccentric.”
“And, sure, meself fales honored in the relationship—I mane the
acquaintanceship,” graciously replied The O’Melaghlin, feeling, however,
that he had almost betrayed himself.
“Will you take seats in the carriage now? My servants are here with the
break and a van to bring your people and luggage,” said Ran.
Cleve bowed and handed Palma to a back seat, and The O’Melaghlin to a
place beside her. Then he took a front seat, where Ran joined him, and
the barouche started for Haymore Hall.
The drive through the beautiful country, now in the glory of early
summer, charmed both Cleve and Palma.
“It is a boundless Garden of Eden!” exclaimed the latter.
But beauty and glory in nature was quite lost on The O’Melaghlin, who
employed the time in descanting to his son-in-law upon the ancient
royalty and grandeur of the O’Melaghlins until the carriage turned into
the park gate, where Longman stood to welcome them.
“There, that was a foine sivin-footer—that retainer of yours, Haymore.
Jist such min me ancestor, Roderick O’Melaghlin, last monarch of Meath,
had for his bodyguard, armed with spears and battle-axes, iviry man of
them,” said the chieftain, as the carriage rolled up the avenue toward
the house.
When it drew up in front of the Hall, there stood Mike and Judy, the
beautiful young pair, as much alike in their dark loveliness as twin
brother and sister could possibly be. Both in evening dress; Mike in the
conventional black swallowtail and patent leathers, with a sprig of
shamrock in his buttonhole in honor of the visitor. Judy in a dark blue
satin dress, trained, and with low body and short sleeves, showing the
plump neck and round arms, which were now dimly veiled with fine lace
and adorned with the Haymore diamonds in honor of the guests.
Behind them stood an array of servants.
“There is your son and daughter, O’Melaghlin,” whispered Palma in the
ear of the chief, as he sat beside her.
He looked out and saw the beautiful pair, with their lovely faces
lighted up now with the joy of expectancy.
“What! thim? You don’t mane thim!” he exclaimed, gazing at them.
“Yes, I do. They are Mike and Judy.”
“Och! let me at thim—the angels!—the beauties! They are both the imidge
of their mother, me sainted Moira! Let me at thim!”
And with a bound The O’Melaghlin was out of the barouche and tearing up
the stairs to the presence of his astonished children.
Forgotten were all his plans of secrecy and covert observation. The
father’s pride and joy in the Irishman’s warm heart overbore all
resolutions, and he fell upon his son and daughter with ravenous
delight.
“And so ye are me own childer—me Mike and me Judy! And the jewels that
ye are!” he exclaimed.
But it was Judy he clasped to his breast and covered with kisses.
“Oh, Mike! Mike! save me!” exclaimed the frightened and distressed
daughter.
“Will ye be afther kapin’ yer hands to yerself?” exclaimed Mike, who
thought the stranger was a maniac, and tried to separate him from the
terrified victim. But Mike was no match for The O’Melaghlin.
“Aisy! aisy!” exclaimed the chieftain. “It’s jealous ye are of me
affection for the sister av ye! But your turn will come nixt, me bhoy!”
Fortunately Ran, to whom Cleve had hastily communicated the now open
secret, came hurrying up the stairs, leaving Stuart and Palma for the
moment in the barouche.
“Stop! stop! Mike, my lad! The gentleman is your father. Yes, dear Judy,
your father. Do not be afraid of him,” he exclaimed, coming to the
rescue with the explanation.
“Yis, darlint Judy, it’s the fayther av ye that’s pressin’ ye to this
throbbin’ heart av him! It’s the fayther av ye, me foine Mike, that will
make ye the lawful heir av the oldest name and richest estate in ould
Ireland! Yis, I meant to have kept that same a secret till I had watched
the natures av ye both for a wake or two, but me affections were too
much for me.”
While he spoke he was kissing Judy, patting Mike on the shoulder or
embracing them both and holding them together to his breast.
At last, quite overcome by his emotion, he sank down upon the top step
and covered his face with his hands to hide the tears that might have
seemed a reproach to the descendant of the warlike monarchs of Meath.
Mike and Judy raised him up with tender care and led him into the hall
and thence into the drawing-room, while the old butler, without waiting
orders, went and brought a tray with a decanter of brandy and a glass.
The O’Melaghlin saw the elixir of life and revived at the sight.
Meanwhile Ran returned to the barouche to conduct Stuart and Palma to
the house.
“He made me and my wife swear by all the saints in Christendom that we
would not betray his secret until he himself should give us leave, and
lo! he has blurted it out himself,” laughed Stuart.
“Yes. He seems a very eccentric person, this unexpected father-in-law of
mine. Yet I like what I have seen of him,” replied Ran.
“You will like him better. The longer you know him the more you will
esteem him. And if you will consider the eccentricities of his fate and
fortune, you will understand and forgive the eccentricities of his
character,” replied Cleve.
And then they followed their host into the house and into the
drawing-room, where they found The O’Melaghlin seated on a sofa between
his son and daughter, with his left arm around Judy’s waist, and in his
right hand a wineglass of brandy which he sipped at intervals, while
Mike held the decanter ready to replenish the glass when necessary.
But as soon as Ran came in with the Stuarts The O’Melaghlin gave the
glass to Judy to hold and went to meet them.
He seized the hand of Ran, and shaking it again cruelly and almost to
dislocation, exclaimed:
“Me son-in-law! Me brave, good, thrue bhoy! I have not yet greeted ye,
nor wilcomed ye as me son-in-law! But now I will do it, with the highest
praise mortal man could give ye. I will say: Haymore, sir, ye are worthy
to be the husband of me daughter Judy and the daughter of a thousand
kings.”
“I thank you, sir. I am sure that is the highest praise you could give
me. I hope it is true,” gallantly replied Ran.
Servants were at hand to show the guests to their apartments.
Mike did the honors to his father, and accompanied him to the apartments
prepared for him.
Judy attended Palma to the beautiful suit of rooms that had been fitted
up for Mr. and Mrs. Stuart and their children.
There Judy for the first time made acquaintance with Palma’s lovely
children, whom she found already on the nursery cot, asleep and attended
by the faithful Hatty.
“Why, when did these beauties come? Why have I not seen them before?”
demanded Judy.
“They came in the second carriage with Hatty and Josias. I would trust
them with those two as confidently as with myself and their father,”
replied Palma.
“And I was so taken by surprise at the sudden meeting with my father
that I forgot even to inquire after the darlings! I beg your little
pardons!” said Judy, kneeling by the side of the children’s cot and
kissing their sleeping faces.
At dinner the newly arrived visitors met the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell,
who had been invited to meet them. Jennie—the Countess Dowager of
Engelmeed—being in deep mourning for her husband, did not go out or
receive visitors.
A week of idleness on the part of all the family followed at Haymore
Hall.
After that questions of importance were taken up.
It was decided that The O’Melaghlin, with Mr. and Mrs. Hay and Mr. and
Mrs. Stuart and Mike, should set out on an excursion to Arghalee Castle
and find lodging at Arghalee Arms, and from that vantage point
investigate the ancient ruins and see what could be done toward the
successful restoration of the castle, also open negotiations with the
duke’s legal steward if possible to repurchase all the land that had
once constituted the Arghalee estate.
All this was happily effected in the course of a few months—for The
O’Melaghlin stopped at nothing in his eager desire to restore the
ancient magnificence and splendor of his house; and so he paid twice the
worth of the land to get it back, and fabulous sums to the antiquaries
and architects to restore the castle and the chapel in all their
pristine strength and glory.
The Stuarts remained at Haymore until the last of the summer and then
bade affectionate adieus to the Hays and returned to Virginia.
This was the first of many visits, which the Hays often returned.
That autumn Mike was entered as Michael O’Melaghlin, master of Arghalee,
in one of the best preparatory colleges in Glasgow.
That winter, when “Burke’s Landed Gentry” appeared, under the name of
Hay it contained this item:
Hay, Randolph, born January 1, 185—, succeeded his father March 1,
187—, married December 2, 187—, Judith, only daughter of Michael, The
O’Melaghlin, Chief of Arghalee, Antrim.
And the anxious soul of Will Walling, when he received a copy of the
book with the marked passage, was entirely satisfied.
And New Year’s Day brought Ran and Judy a New Year’s gift, in the form
of a son and heir, which filled the hearts of the parents with bliss.
THE END
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BURT’S SERIES _of_ STANDARD FICTION.
RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. R.
James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price,
$1.00.
In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, “Richelieu,” and was
recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft.
In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great
cardinal’s life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it
was yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic
outbursts which overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost
wave of prosperity. One of the most striking portions of the story is
that of Cinq Mar’s conspiracy; the method of conducting criminal
cases, and the political trickery resorted to by royal favorites,
affording a better insight into the statecraft of that day than can be
had even by an exhaustive study of history. It is a powerful romance
of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling and absorbing
interest has never been excelled.
A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE. A story of American Colonial Times. By Chauncey
C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis.
Price, $1.00.
A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionary
scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the true
American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter,
until the eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love
story is a singularly charming idyl.
THE TOWER OF LONDON. A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady Jane Grey
and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four
illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.
This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace,
prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is the
middle of the sixteenth century.
The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey,
and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable
characters of the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the
reader in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably
over a half a century.
IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution. By
Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery,
and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of
the Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking
a part in the exciting scenes described. His whole story is so
absorbing that you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a
love romance it is charming.
GARTHOWEN. A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo.
with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
“This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare
before us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some
strong points of Welsh character—the pride, the hasty temper, the
quick dying out of wrath.... We call this a well-written story.
Interesting alike through its romance and its glimpses into another
life than ours. A delightful and clever picture of Welsh village life.
The result is excellent.”—Detroit Free Press.
MIFANWY. The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, 12mo. with
four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
“This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to
read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it
is apparent at once, are as true to life as though the author had
known them all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is
worked up in that touching and quaint strain which never grows
wearisome, no matter how often the lights and shadows of love are
introduced. It rings true, and does not tax the imagination.”—Boston
Herald.
DARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey. By
G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis.
Price, $1.00.
As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken up
pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm
which those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have
claimed was only to be imparted by Dumas.
If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial
attention, the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic
“field of the cloth of gold” would entitle the story to the most
favorable consideration of every reader.
There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author
has taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom
history has credited with having entertained the tender passion one
for another, and he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world
must love.
WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII.
Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth,
12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.
“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne
Boleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too
good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable
acts, none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and
his marriage to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as
brief as it was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen,
attracted him, and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room
for her successor. This romance is one of extreme interest to all
readers.
HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina in
1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical
fiction, there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans
than Horseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which
depicts with fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists
in South Carolina to defend their homes against the brutal oppression
of the British under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton.
The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread of
the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning
those times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is
never overdrawn, but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared
neither time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love
story all that price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as
their share in the winning of the republic.
Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be
found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining
story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning
the colonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once
more, well illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to
thousands who have long desired an opportunity to read the story
again, and to the many who have tried vainly in these latter days to
procure a copy that they might read it for the first time.
THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By Harriet
Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.
Written prior to 1862, “The Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a book
filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew
each time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror
all around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and
straightway comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach,
like the wild angry howl of some savage animal.”
Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which
came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings,
without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud
blossomed? Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the
character of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid
the angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast.
There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that
which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.”
THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in the Ohio
Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” The
main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian
missionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given
details of the frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the
wilderness for the planting of this great nation. Chief among these,
as a matter of course, is Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and
at the same time the most admirable of all the brave men who spent
their lives battling with the savage foe, that others might dwell in
comparative security.
Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village
of Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The
efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have
been before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders
of the several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be
of interest to the student.
By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid
word-pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings
of the beauties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests.
It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by
it, perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly
braved every privation and danger that the westward progress of the
star of empire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story,
simple and tender, runs through the book.
CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By Lieut. Henry A. Wise,
U.S.N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarns
who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come
through the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea
and those “who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar
with the scenes depicted.
The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which
will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,”
who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence
in the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand”
has never been excelled, and as a story of piratical life, told
without the usual embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no
equal.
NICK OF THE WOODS. A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By Robert
Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in
Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long
out of print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic
presentation of Indian and frontier life in the early days of
settlement in the South, narrated in the tale with all the art of a
practiced writer. A very charming love romance runs through the story.
This new and tasteful edition of “Nick of the Woods” will be certain
to make many new admirers for this enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s
clever and versatile pen.
GUY FAWKES. A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison
Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank.
Price, $1.00.
The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, the
King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, was
weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of
extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In
their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits
concluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were
arrested, and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other
prisoners with royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the
entire romance.
TICONDEROGA: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley. By G.
P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four page illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
The setting of the story is decidedly more picturesque than any ever
evolved by Cooper: The frontier of New York State, where dwelt an
English gentleman, driven from his native home by grief over the loss
of his wife, with a son and daughter. Thither, brought by the
exigencies of war, comes an English officer, who is readily recognised
as that Lord Howe who met his death at Ticonderoga. As a most natural
sequence, even amid the hostile demonstrations of both French and
Indians, Lord Howe and the young girl find time to make most
deliciously sweet love, and the son of the recluse has already lost
his heart to the daughter of a great sachem, a dusky maiden whose
warrior-father has surrounded her with all the comforts of a civilized
life.
The character of Captain Brooks, who voluntarily decides to sacrifice
his own life in order to save the son of the Englishman, is not among
the least of the attractions of this story, which holds the attention
of the reader even to the last page. The tribal laws and folk lore of
the different tribes of Indians known as the “Five Nations,” with
which the story is interspersed, shows that the author gave no small
amount of study to the work in question, and nowhere else is it shown
more plainly than by the skilful manner in which he has interwoven
with his plot the “blood” law, which demands a life for a life,
whether it be that of the murderer or one of his race.
A more charming story of mingled love and adventure has never been
written than “Ticonderoga.”
ROB OF THE BOWL: A Story of the Early Days of Maryland. By John P.
Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four page illustrations by J. Watson Davis.
Price, $1.00.
It was while he was a member of Congress from Maryland that the noted
statesman wrote this story regarding the early history of his native
State, and while some critics are inclined to consider “Horse Shoe
Robinson” as the best of his works, it is certain that “Rob of the
Bowl” stands at the head of the list as a literary production and an
authentic exposition of the manners and customs during Lord
Baltimore’s rule. The greater portion of the action takes place in St.
Mary’s—the original capital of the State.
As a series of pictures of early colonial life in Maryland, “Rob of
the Bowl” has no equal, and the book, having been written by one who
had exceptional facilities for gathering material concerning the
individual members of the settlements in and about St. Mary’s, is a
most valuable addition to the history of the State.
The story is full of splendid action, with a charming love story, and
a plot that never loosens the grip of its interest to its last page.
BY BERWEN BANKS. By Allen Raine.
It is a tender and beautiful romance of the idyllic. A charming
picture of life in a Welsh seaside village. It is something of a
prose-poem, true, tender and graceful.
IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A romance of the American Revolution. By
Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
The story opens in the month of April, 1775, with the provincial
troops hurrying to the defense of Lexington and Concord. Mr. Hotchkiss
has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery and true love
that thrills from beginning to end with the spirit of the Revolution.
The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking a part in the
exciting scenes described. You lay the book aside with the feeling
that you have seen a gloriously true picture of the Revolution. His
whole story is so absorbing that you will sit up far into the night to
finish it. As a love romance it is charming.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. P. 235, “Here am” inserted for illegible characters. 7 characters
because capital H and lower m are each nearly 2 characters wide.
Barely visible in original edition and reprint—defective typeface
in original.
2. P. 302, changed “in Sahara” to “in the Sahara”.
3. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
4. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.