RETRIBUTION OVERTAKES JOHN SIMPSON.
It must be explained that Tom and his father, on reaching New York late
in the evening, went to the Astor House to spend the night.
At the breakfast-table the next morning, Tom, in looking about him,
to his great surprise recognized Darius Darke. Mr. Darke was equally
surprised to meet Tom. It appeared that Mr. Darke had arrived from
Europe on a Cunard steamer only two days previous.
He reported that he had a pleasant trip. During his absence his man
of business, with whom he had left his funds, had managed by skillful
manipulation to more than double his money, so that he found himself,
even after deducting the expenses of his European trip, the possessor
of twenty thousand dollars.
Tom, too, had his story to tell, and he received the hearty
congratulations of Darius Darke for the energy, perseverance and pluck
which had enabled him to succeed in the face of so many difficulties.
“And now, Tom,” said Mr. Darke, “we will form an alliance, go up to
Wilton, and bring consternation and dismay to our common enemy, John
Simpson.”
So it was agreed, but Mr. Darke was to stop over night at a town five
miles distant from Wilton, and ride over in the morning.
John Simpson, with a pleasant sense of triumph in his heart, left his
handsome dwelling to call upon Mrs. Thatcher, whom he considered now to
be in his power.
He could not explain why it was that he hated the Thatchers so much,
but it is generally the case that the victim is hated by the one who
has injured him. Moreover, as long as Mrs. Thatcher remained in Wilton
she recalled a scene in his life which he was anxious to forget.
Therefore, he desired by depriving her of her humble home to force her
to leave Wilton for good.
When Mr. Simpson entered the cottage he found Mrs. Thatcher alone. Tom
and his father and sister were together in an upper room.
“Well, widow, I’ve called to see you about the mortgage,” said the rich
man, sinking into a rocking-chair.
At the words Mrs. Thatcher’s heart felt a thrill of happiness, for she
was a widow no longer. She did not know, for it had not been revealed
to her, that the man before her had tried to make her a widow, or she
would not have been able to treat him with common politeness.
“Can’t you let me have more than four hundred dollars on the place, Mr.
Simpson?” she asked, having been so instructed by Tom.
“No,” said the shoe manufacturer, decidedly.
“The place is worth a thousand dollars.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Thatcher. It wouldn’t bring over six hundred.”
“I can hardly believe that.”
“I will strain a point and give you that sum,” said Mr. Simpson, who
knew very well that he would be making an excellent bargain.
“I can’t decide upon so important a matter without consulting my son.”
To Mr. Simpson’s amazement she went to the foot of the stairs and
called “Tom.”
“Has Tom got home?” asked the rich man, looking disturbed.
“He got home last night.”
Before Mr. Simpson had a chance to ask any further questions, Tom
entered the room. He was looking healthy and manly, but he was shabbily
dressed.
“He has returned as poor as he went,” thought John Simpson.
“So you’ve got home,” said he coldly.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are probably convinced by this time that you were a fool to
leave home.”
“No, sir; I have seen something of the world. Besides, there was
nothing for me to do here.”
“Where did you go?”
“To California.”
Mr. Simpson started, and carefully scrutinized Tom’s face, but it told
him nothing.
“There was nothing for me to do here,” continued Tom.
“Mr. Simpson said the other day that he would take you back into his
shop,” said Mrs. Thatcher.
Tom looked inquiringly at the rich man, who said, coldly: “At present
there is no vacancy. There may not be any for some months.”
“But how am I to live in the meantime?” asked Tom.
“On the money I will advance to your mother on the place.”
Mrs. Thatcher repeated the offer which Mr. Simpson had made, and asked:
“Shall I accept, Tom?”
“No,” answered Tom, promptly.
“Do you propose to be guided by the advice of this young jackanapes,
Mrs. Thatcher?” asked John Simpson, angrily.
“Tom knows more about business than I do.”
“He looks like it--a ragged tramp like him!” said the rich man, with a
sneer. “After that display of impudence I refuse altogether to employ
him. Now you can do as you please--accept my offer or starve with him.”
“Mother,” said Tom, quietly, “will you be kind enough to leave me alone
with Mr. Simpson? I wish to speak to him in private.”
“Certainly, Tom.”
Very much to his surprise, Mr. Simpson found himself left alone with
Tom, whose manner was self-possessed and grave.
“What does all this mean?” he asked, imperiously.
“Be patient, Mr. Simpson, I have something to say which you ought to
hear. When I was in California I visited a place called Rocky Gulch.”
John Simpson’s ruddy face paled, and he made a visible start, but he
recovered himself by an effort.
“That was foolish,” he said. “All the gold dust has been gathered long
ago, and there could be no advantage in going there.”
“I wanted to find out something, if I could, about my poor father’s
disappearance,” said Tom, gravely.
“Then you wasted your time,” said Simpson, nervously.
“No; I learned something.”
“What was it?” asked the rich man, in a voice slightly tremulous.
“I learned that while my father was asleep, one whom he supposed to be
a friend stole upon him, attacked him, and left him for dead, carrying
away a large sum belonging to my poor father.”
“That is a lie!” said Simpson, his face livid with dismay, rising from
his chair.
The door opened and Tom’s father entered the room.
“It is true, John Simpson,” he said, sternly, “and you are the guilty
man who stole in upon my unprotected slumbers, and sought to kill me.”
“Great heavens! Whence do you come?” demanded Simpson, hoarsely.
“I come from California, where for eight years and more I lived bereft
of reason in consequence of your cruel assault.”
“You need not tell me that,” said Simpson, with a bold inspiration.
“Your story is evidently the tale of a crazy man, and will not be
believed. I am glad you are alive, but your attempt to levy blackmail
will not succeed,” and he sat down with a smile of gratified malice.
“If such is the case and my father’s story is untrue, why did you give
five hundred dollars to Darius Darke to keep your secret, about a year
ago?”
This was another surprise. How could Tom know this? Certainly not from
the man who had received the money, for he had been burned in the old
barn.
“Who told you this cock-and-bull story?” demanded Mr. Simpson,
defiantly. “It is clearly a bold invention of yours.”
Another door opened, and John Simpson stared aghast at the man whom he
had supposed to have been burned alive in the conflagration.
“It is no invention, John Simpson,” said the new-comer.
“Where do you come from?” asked Simpson, with staring eyes and parched
lips.
“From Europe. You were very cunning, John Simpson, in your attempt, by
destroying my life, to silence forever the tongue of one who might have
appeared against you, but Providence did not suffer you to succeed. I
did not sleep in the old barn; I passed the night in your stable, which
I found more comfortable.”
“And set my barn on fire! That explains it,” said Simpson, desperately.
“No, it does not explain it. With my own eyes I saw you set the fire. I
understood your motive. I meant you to believe that you had succeeded,
and I left the village during the night. I went to New York, made a
fortune in stocks, and went to Europe, but I gave the five hundred
dollars I had wrung from your fears to this boy, and sent him to
California, where he succeeded better than I expected. Your old crime
and your new one are discovered, John Simpson. Your race is run.”
“You can’t do anything,” said Simpson, defiantly.
“We can procure your arrest on a double charge of attempted murder, if
you wish to stand trial.”
“No, no!” exclaimed Simpson, with blanched face. “It isn’t true, but it
would blast my reputation.”
“It is true, and you know it.”
“Can’t we compromise this thing?” asked Simpson, nervously.
“It is for this boy to determine. Tom, what will you accept?”
“How much money of my father’s did Mr. Simpson obtain?”
“Ten thousand dollars, at least.”
“Let him pay to my father ten thousand dollars, with interest for nine
years, and I shall be willing to let him off.”
“And you, Mr. Thatcher?”
“I leave the matter in Tom’s hands.”
Before John Simpson left the cottage, which he had entered for a very
different purpose, he had entered into a covenant to pay the sum
demanded.
In a subsequent interview he offered Mr. Thatcher his house, furniture,
and large manufactory, in lieu of the money, and, as they were amply
worth that, the offer was accepted, Mr. Thatcher having a desire to
return to his old business.
With the remnant of his fortune, Mr. Simpson left town, and established
himself in a Western State. He couldn’t bear to see daily the man whom
he had attempted to murder.
Here he was induced to engage in speculations, lost all his money
in the course of a few years, and died of grief. Rupert, now reduced
to penury, found his way back to Wilton, and obtained a position as
workman in the shop which his father had once owned. His pride had had
a severe fall.
Tom became his father’s junior partner, and at twenty-one is really
acting-manager and responsible head of the great shop where he once
worked for three dollars a week. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher now
live in the handsome house once owned by John Simpson, while Rupert,
rather curiously, is a boarder in the humble cottage once occupied by
the Thatchers.
No one in Wilton understands how this wonderful change was brought
about, for Tom and his father kept Mr. Simpson’s guilt and restitution
a secret. It is popularly supposed that Mr. Thatcher was very fortunate
in California, and made his fortune there.
It is not certain that Tom will remain long in Wilton, or in his
present business. He has a handsome offer from Samuel Perkins, of
Pearl Street, New York, whose papers he restored, and as he would
like a larger field of action he may remove to New York and become a
commission merchant. Indeed, as his father is willing to retire from
business it is likely that he will accept the first fair offer for his
manufactory and establish himself in the city.
Mrs. Thatcher is well and happy, and it is needless to say proud of
Tom, whose energy and pluck enabled him successfully to find the clew
which restored to him in the end a father and a fortune.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
BY WILLIAM BENNETT.
The boy home for the holidays is always suspected of all manner of
mischief.
I know that I, Charley Mitford, found it so when I was home for my last
Christmas holidays. Everything that went wrong was sure to be my fault;
sometimes I was blamed justly, but generally, I thought, unjustly. I
will tell you about one scrape of mine.
My father had invited a middle-aged gentleman, who was a learned
professor, and a terrible book-worm, to spend a week or two at our
house.
I didn’t like Dr. Millbank, and he hated me and all other boys. I
generally kept out of his way; but one day, the doctor being in a more
friendly and talkative mood than ordinary, I ventured to accompany him
into the library, taking care only to speak to him when he condescended
to speak to me.
The doctor, however, soon became lost in a book, and altogether forgot
my presence. I accordingly retired into the recess of a window, and
also engaged myself with a book on old sports and pastimes. Dr.
Millbank’s back was turned upon me, and he was thoroughly lost in his
studies.
Now, learned as was the doctor in his special subjects--mostly of
the dry-as-dust order--he knew but little of the natural history of
magpies; and at the present moment my interest and the interest of my
story is with one of those birds, Jack by name.
He was a tame magpie, a clever talker, and a great pet in our
household, though he was as mischievous, almost, as they said I was.
He came hopping into the library, unseen by the doctor, but watched by
my observant eyes. He stealthily posted himself on a chair; it seemed
that there was something on his mind.
While he was ensconced in his citadel of the chair, he kept his
cunning, twinkling eyes fixed on the doctor’s silver spectacles on his
nose. Magpies are fond of pilfering bright or glittering articles, and
with secret joy I saw that Jack was meditating a theft.
Perched, however, in his elevated position, and seeing no hope for the
present of purloining the spectacles, he stealthily took the leather
case which the doctor had laid upon the table after taking the glasses
therefrom. Then he stealthily hopped out of the room.
A few minutes later, the doctor, weary of his book, took his spectacles
from his nose, and naturally enough, sought the case to place them in.
The case was not to be found.
“This is most mysterious. I know I placed it on the table. Dear me!
dear me! always something to annoy me!”
It was very wrong, no doubt, to laugh at the misfortunes or annoyances
of other people, but I was home for the holidays, you know, and I
really couldn’t help it. He laid down his spectacles on the table,
while he took a walk round the room, frowning in his displeasure and
mystification. Then he espied me lounging with outstretched legs in the
recess with my book of sports.
“Ah, ah, Master Charles, and so you are the culprit, are you?”
“Sir!” I exclaimed, affecting to be ignorant of his meaning.
“My spectacle-case--where is it?”
“Spectacle-case? I have not got it.”
“What! Why, I laid it beside me on the table, and now it is gone! You
should not take such liberties with your elders.”
“Why, sir, I have not moved from the spot where I am sitting, and it is
a very hard case for me to be accused of removing it.”
“Your joke is impertinent at a time like this. You are the only person,
as I said before, who has been in the library since I have been reading
here----”
“Excuse me, doctor----”
“Do not interrupt me, Master Charles. I must ring the bell for your
father. Boys home for the holidays take so much license nowadays that
really they have become an intolerable nuisance. There should be no
school holidays if I could have my way.”
As he spoke, the doctor advanced to the bell-rope. He walked with his
back toward the door, and as he did so my old friend Jack, the magpie,
came hop-hop-hopping in, and his thievish eye at once fell upon the
silver specs, which the enraged man had laid down on the very spot on
the table where before he had laid the case which had so disgraced me
in his eyes.
Jack quietly hopped upon his old quarters in the armchair and as
quickly possessed himself of the envied trophy, and I became the
innocent witness of another theft much greater than the last.
Deeper disgrace to me, I thought; but as the doctor was evidently sure
I was the culprit, and was not likely to accept any explanation from
me, I thought it best to keep quiet, though by this I no doubt made
myself Jack’s accessory.
A servant answered the bell, and he was requested to send my father
hither, and, of course, my father came.
“Well, doctor, what can I have the pleasure of doing for you?” he
inquired. “You appear agitated--what is the matter?”
“Look here, sir, if you please,” said the doctor to my father. “I laid
my spectacle-case on the table where you see my glasses,” and here he
pointed to the table, and my father looked on the spot indicated, and
said:
“Where, doctor, where? I see no glasses.”
We were all standing some distance from the table, and the doctor could
not see what was on it; he only spoke from the knowledge that he had
placed his spectacles on the table, to which he now drew near, when,
to his great surprise, and to my greater amusement, he made the same
discovery that my father had done, that there were no glasses there.
“Why, sir, not five minutes ago I laid my glasses on this spot!” he
exclaimed, giving the table rather a loud rap with his knuckles, which
did not harm the table, though it did the knuckles, as the doctor’s
screwed-up face indicated. “There, sir, exactly there--and now you see
with your own eyes that both case and spectacles are gone!”
“It is a very mysterious occurrence, Dr. Millbank,” remarked my father.
“I cannot say that I see any mystery about it, sir; I am no believer
in spiritualism, but I am in logic. I laid the spectacles and case
there on that table. They are now gone--no one has been in the room but
Master Charles.”
“_Ergo_, Master Charles must have them,” interrupted my father. “That
is the true inference of your logic.”
Just then, another visitor came hopping into the room--no less than my
father’s favorite, Jack, the magpie. My father was now seated by the
side of the doctor, and the bird, as was his custom, hopped and flew to
his shoulder, which was his favorite perch when he had the opportunity.
“Well pa,” said the cunning bird, bending his head and beak to my
parent’s face.
“And what do you want, Master Jack?”
“Sho!” said the magpie, which was another daily phrase of his which he
had picked up. Then he pretended to be sleepy, winking and blinking,
and even yawning and crying, “Poor Jack! poor Jack!”
“A fine, rare bird, Mr. Mitford, is your magpie,” said the doctor, who
would not have said so much had he known, as I did, that Jack was the
author of his misery.
“By the by,” cried my father, “I wonder if the magpie has taken the
things from the table!”
“Tell the truth!” I said, catching the bird up by his tail, much to his
displeasure. “What have you done with the spectacles?”
“Sho!” screamed the bird, making divers pecks at my hands.
“Depend upon it, my friend,” said my father, “it is the magpie who is
the thief.”
“Easier said than proved, dear sir,” replied the doctor. “I know this,
however, that I would not keep a bird capable of such thefts. But I
am surprised, Mr. Mitford, that you should suggest such a solution of
the mystery. It is quite a vulgar error to suppose that magpies are
thieves of anything but that which contributes to their sustenance.
If a magpie will take one bright thing he will take another. There is
a silver pencil-case,” said the incredulous doctor, placing it on the
table, when, to his great surprise, the bird, that had hitherto been
immovable, hopped from my father’s shoulder to the armchair. “Now, sir,
if the bird took my glasses, and if it is his nature to steal, he will
soon possess himself of the pencil-case.”
“Not when he is observed, perhaps. Jack, like human thieves, doesn’t
like his evil propensities to be seen.”
“Then let us all three retire and leave the magpie with the
pencil-case. What then?”
“Why, that when we return you will find the bird and the case both
flown.”
“A bargain, sir!” said the doctor, quite pleased that he should soon
have the satisfaction of proving my father in the wrong.
We all retired to the dining-room, and had a little agreeable talk
about magpies, and the plot that had been laid to discover whether Jack
was a thief or not.
An hour later I asked whether I should go and look after the bird and
the case.
“No, thanks, Master Charles,” said the doctor, “I object to that; you
are home for the holidays. We will all go together when your father is
prepared.”
“I am quite ready, sir.”
So we all three went to the library and to the table. Bird and
pencil-case had vanished! The doctor was astonished; I and my father
were not, but laughed to each other at the doctor’s expression of
surprise.
“What do you say now, doctor?” quizzed my delighted parent.
“That they are gone!” he replied.
“It could not be by ‘the boy home for the holidays,’ now, could it?”
“But the bird, sir--where is the bird?” exclaimed the doctor, who
fairly felt himself in a dilemma.
“Gone to his storehouse,” replied my father.
“And where is that?”
“I have not been able to discover.”
“Have you taken any means to do so?”
“I have not. Can you suggest any?” inquired my father.
“Watch him,” was the laconic but sensible reply.
“But the cunning fellow has committed his depredations when he has not
been seen.”
“Plant some temptation for him, as now, and then place three or four
persons to watch where he takes it.”
“A very good idea, and I will follow it out now, if you please.
“I should like very much, for my curiosity is now deeply excited. Ah!
Master Charles, you are a boy of an excellent temper to bear so well as
you have done with my petulance and hasty conclusions.”
“Now,” said my father, “I will place my gold pencil-case on the spot
where you placed your silver one, and then wait the return of the sly
old bird.”
This was done, and it was not many minutes before the bird entered, no
doubt to see if there were any more bright things to be taken away.
What! another pencil-case for Jack! No one was in the room but the
doctor, who this time pretended to be deeply engaged in a book, as I
had before done, while I and my father planted ourselves in unseen
places outside the room. The bird was not slow in accomplishing his
theft, and as quickly hopped out of the library with the pencil-case.
“Seeing is believing!” exclaimed the doctor, closing the book with a
loud bang. “I wouldn’t keep a magpie for the world.”
Then he made his way to the courtyard, where I and my father had
stationed ourselves. We had not been long here before the bird came
hopping along with the pencil-case in his beak, and he flew to the top
of a loft.
The doctor’s countenance expressed indescribable surprise, while I and
my father laughed heartily as Jack flew up to his hiding place.
We all ascended the ladder, and when we had got to the roof, there, in
a leaden valley between two angles, we discovered a hoard of bright
things, among others the cases and spectacles belonging to Dr. Millbank!
“What do you say now, doctor?” triumphantly asked my father, extending
his hands over the magpie’s storehouse and handing him back his
property.
“That I will never keep a magpie,” he returned, shaking his head,
placing his hands behind the tail of his long clerical-cut coat, and
blushing and laughing.
During a little conversation between us on the top of the loft the
saucy bird returned, looking unutterable things and screaming when he
saw us there and his hoard disturbed.
When the doctor held up his glasses, and was about to admonish him, the
bird turned tail upon us and flew off, croaking “Sho! Sho!” and we did
not see him for two days afterward. He was evidently deeply offended;
indeed, Jack was not the same bird afterward, and was even cold and
indifferent to the caress of my father; as for “Master Charles,” he
dare not touch Jack’s tail.
On taking his departure, the doctor, smiling good-naturedly, remarked:
“I assure you, Mr. Mitford, until now I set down all these wonderful
stories of animals that we meet with as fabulous. But your bird, sir,
has taught me a wholesome lesson, that things may nevertheless be true,
whether we believe them or not; and, further, I have had a warning
not to be too hasty in coming to conclusions with boys home for the
holidays upon circumstantial evidence; and still further, that as long
as I wear spectacles I will never keep a magpie.”
We each and all had a hearty laugh, a shake of the hand, and the doctor
took his departure. When he next loses his spectacles he will inquire
if there is a magpie around.
THAT BELL!
BY PAUL BLAKE.
Berry was a boy of many characteristics. The most notable were an
amazing love of sleep and a desperate activity when awake. He seemed to
lay in a fresh stock of energy every time he had a nap, and although
the most difficult boy in the world to waken, when he was awake he was
irrepressible.
It was winter. Berry found that season of the year did not agree with
his constitution.
“This getting up in the middle of the night is killing me,” he remarked
one day to a group of sympathizers. He had the whole school on his side
in this particular matter, for work before breakfast in winter was
decidedly unpopular. At half-past seven every boy had to be at his desk
“putting in” an hour at mathematics before prayers and breakfast.
It was pitch dark at seven, when the big bell rang as a signal to rise.
It is curious how difficult it was to hear that bell in winter. Berry
never heard it, or rather never heeded it. He scorned to rise till
twenty minutes past seven. He could “do it,” as he termed dressing, in
ten minutes, and had been known to do it in five. On such occasions his
personal ablutions were apt to be rather neglected.
“That old bell is at the bottom of it,” remarked Culverwell, another
boy, who found that the heavy clang disturbed his slumbers.
“It’s John who’s at the bottom of the bell,” put in Millward.
“I wish he’d resign,” said Berry. “It’s time they pensioned him off and
sent him to a hospital for incurables.”
“He’s a hopeless job,” said Millward. “I spent half an hour one day
trying to make him understand that I was willing to stand him a
shilling if he’d give us a few minutes’ grace in the morning. But he’s
as deaf as a post and though he took my shilling he rang us up more
punctually than ever next morning.”
“I wish he’d hang himself with his bell-rope,” said Culverwell.
They eyed the offending bell, which hung idly in its turret, built over
what was once a stable, but was now part of the school building.
“I wish we could muffle the old thing,” said Millward, looking
wistfully up. “It’s freezing hard, and ’twill be deadly work getting up
to-morrow.”
“I believe I could shy a stone up and crack it,” suggested another.
Berry had been silently inspecting the building.
“Tell you what, you fellows,” he said at last, “I believe I could get
up there if I had a ladder. Out of the small class-room window, jump on
the ledge, then creep up the roof by the chimney, then a ladder over
the space to the turret. If you fellows will hand me up the ladder I’ll
go!”
They were all dumb for a moment at his audacity. Then Millward said:
“How are you going to get into the small class-room? It’s always locked
in play-time.”
“So ’tis,” assented Culverwell.
“Then I must get up to the ledge with a ladder, and then pull it up
after me.”
“You’re a plucky beggar!” exclaimed Millward, in admiration. “Shouldn’t
we have a jolly snooze in the morning if you could stop that old bell’s
jaw!”
“I will, too,” said Berry. “There must be a ladder somewhere about.”
“There’s the one John uses to clean the outside of the windows,”
suggested Millward, “but it isn’t long enough.”
“It may do,” said Berry. “Come along, let’s get hold of it. This is
just the time; it’s dark, and ’tisn’t tea-time for half an hour.”
It was just five o’clock and nearly every boy was indoors; few cared
for sliding on a worn slide in the dark, and a game was out of the
question. So the three boys had small fear of being discovered as they
prowled about in search of John’s ladder.
That worthy was having his tea, and was not likely to be disturbed
by any noise, for he was stone deaf. The boys hauled out his ladder
almost from under his nose without his hearing a sound. Culverwell kept
“cave” while Millward held the ladder for Berry to ascend.
It was a plucky if not perilous feat to attempt in the dark. But Berry
was abounding in pluck, and the spirit of the adventure made him keep
his nerve. He soon found himself on the ledge, and managed to haul up
the ladder after him. It was an assistance instead of an incumbrance in
crossing the roof, and he soon was within a dozen feet of the turret.
The boys below anxiously waited for his reappearance. But he had a job
before him. His idea was to unship the tongue of the bell. He had a
glorious reward if he could succeed, _for John would never know if the
bell rang or not_!
It would be superb to have the old factotum pulling away at his rope
and fancying he was fulfilling his duty when the tongueless bell was
swinging silently on its pivot.
Berry worked the tongue this way and that, but it was a difficult job.
The inside of the bell was as dark as the inside of a wolf, to use a
hunter’s simile; he had to feel everything, and the metal was terribly
cold.
However, at last he managed to unhitch it. He deliberated what to do
with it, now he had it. He put it in his pocket, and descended as
quickly as was consistent with security.
“Off with the ladder,” was his first order.
They soon had that in its place again. Then they felt safe from
detection.
“What are you going to do with it?” asked Millward, alluding to the
rusty tongue which Berry exhibited.
“I think I shall leave it at the bottom of the turret. If I take it
away they’ll know some one’s been up, but if we leave it here they’ll
think it’s dropped down.”
“Let’s hope they will,” said Culverwell, dubiously.
“At any rate, I’ll chance it,” continued Berry. “So you fellows will be
able to have a tall time to-morrow morning; we sha’n’t get called till
half-past eight, at the earliest.”
The sequel proved the correctness of Berry’s prophecy. Old John sought
his bell-rope punctually at seven, as usual, rang away steadily for
three minutes, and then retired to his den to commence his never-ending
job of shoe-cleaning. One or two boys awoke from sheer habit, but,
hearing no bell, went to sleep again. The rest slumbered peacefully on,
little thinking to whom they owed their unwonted repose.
The whole household were asleep. The big bell was the signal for
rising to every one, servants included, with the exception of John
and his wife. Her duty was to light the schoolroom fires, after which
she retired to her own part of the house to prepare her husband’s
breakfast. These two almost useless pensioners on the doctor’s bounty
inhabited two rooms apart from the rest of the house.
How long every one would have slept can not be known, perhaps till
nine, for when one depends on a bell for waking, one waits for the
accustomed sound. But dogs are not like human beings, and Fido, who
always had his breakfast at eight, began making a great disturbance at
a quarter past.
Fido woke his mistress, the doctor’s wife. She looked at her
watch--8:15. She was surprised beyond measure, as there was a strange
silence everywhere. But the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed her
watch, and two minutes later bells were ringing in a manner which
brought the servants out of their beds with a jump.
By half-past eight, every one, boys and all, had been awakened,
informally, for the bell refused to make a sound. John was summoned,
and was at last made to understand what was the matter. He asseverated
warmly that he had rung the bell, and went on a tour of inspection.
He found the tongue on the ground, and obtaining a ladder from the
gardener, next door, fastened it in its place again before it was time
to ring for school.
“Never had such a gorgeous sleep in my life,” said Millward, warmly, to
Berry. “We’ll vote you a silver tankard as a reward of merit.”
“Pity the trick can’t be played twice,” remarked Culverwell. “They
don’t seem to suspect anything this time, but if it were to happen
again, there’d be an inquisition.”
Berry heaved a regretful sigh. It was hard to think that at seven
next morning the inexorable bell would toll out as usual the knell of
departing night.
Something that day put him in a peculiarly reckless mood. More than
that, he did not get his usual afternoon nap; he was disturbed by an
inconsiderate master, who wanted to know when his exercises were going
to be handed in to him. So five o’clock found Berry ready for any deed
requiring more cheek than usual.
The bell! It struck him directly after he had written his last line.
Whatever might happen, he would have one more good sleep.
He did not confide his intentions this time to his two friends. He knew
his way now. In five minutes he had captured the ladder and placed it
against the wall.
He was just stepping off it on to the ledge, when he heard footsteps
beneath him, perilously near. If he attempted to draw up the ladder,
the noise must attract attention. His only chance was to keep quite
still, in the hope that the ladder wouldn’t be noticed in the dark.
But it was. Old John happened to have finished his tea earlier than
usual, and was on his way to fetch an armful of wood.
“Now, who’s been taking my ladder!” he said to himself. “Suppose it’s
one of them boys wanting to get their balls off the ledge.”
He put the ladder on his shoulder and marched off with it.
Berry listened in horror. He did not know it was John who had captured
his only means of retreat; whoever it was, he must throw himself on his
mercy.
“Hi!” he called out, in a voice meant to combine a shout and a whisper.
“Hi! you there!”
It was a shout this time and no mistake. But it had no effect.
Berry knew now it must be John. It was no use to shout. He tore off
a piece of plaster, and shied it in the direction of the retreating
figure.
It struck the ground close to John, but he did not hear it. Poor Berry
was left alone on the ledge, fourteen feet from the ground.
He couldn’t drop, for there was a nasty grating just beneath him;
besides, he could not lower himself from the narrow ledge. He might
have done it in daylight, but not in darkness. Even his pluck must draw
the line somewhere.
It was an uninviting night, and not a boy was out of doors. There was
nothing for it but to accept the inevitable, and remain where he was
until something happened.
He knew well enough what would happen. After tea there would be calling
over; he would be unable to say “Adsum,” and inquiry would be made,
resulting in his capture and punishment.
Once more he proved himself a true prophet. Everything fell out exactly
as he had anticipated. And by the time he was assisted down he was so
cramped and frozen he would have welcomed a caning on the spot to warm
him.
Intentionally or unintentionally, the authorities did not connect his
being on the ledge with the outrage on the bell of the day before. He
received the usual punishment for missing calling over, but beyond
that nothing was done.
Probably the master who captured him considered he had already received
punishment enough. At any rate, Berry was of opinion that he had bought
his extra hour’s sleep rather dearly.
A. L. Burt’s Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers,
52-58 Duane Street, New York
BOOKS FOR BOYS.
=Joe’s Luck=: A Boy’s Adventures in California. By HORATIO
ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The story is chock fell of stirring incidents, while the
amusing situations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from
Pumpkin Hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the
“Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike Co., Missouri.” Mr. Alger never
writes a poor book, and “Joe’s Luck” is certainly one of his
best.
=Tom the Bootblack=; or, The Road to Success. By HORATIO ALGER,
JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not at
all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout
to better himself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up
his heritage. Mr. Grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ
a ruffian to kill the lad. The plan failed, and Gilbert Grey,
once Tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable fortune. This
is one of Mr. Alger’s best stories.
=Dan the Newsboy.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the
lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers
in the streets of New York. A little heiress of six years is
confided to the care of the Mordaunts. The child is kidnapped
and Dan tracks the child to the house where she is hidden,
and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little heiress is so
delighted with Dan’s courage and many good qualities that she
adopts him as her heir.
=Tony the Hero=: A Brave Boy’s Adventure with a Tramp. By
HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the
control of Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse
Tony runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel.
Tony is heir to a large estate. Rudolph for a consideration
hunts up Tony and throws him down a deep well. Of course Tony
escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a brave act, a
rich friend secures his rights and Tony is prosperous. A very
entertaining book.
=The Errand Boy=; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By HORATIO
ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The career of “The Errand Boy” embraces the city adventures of
a smart country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted
innkeeper named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way
for the hero’s subsequent troubles. A retired merchant in New
York secures him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter
stands as his friend.
=Tom Temple’s Career.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton
village to seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an
important mission to California. Some of his adventures in the
far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close
the book until the last page shall have been reached. The tale
is written in Mr. Alger’s most fascinating style.
=Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo,
cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living
for himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York
he obtains a situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He
renders a service to a wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy
to the lad, and thereafter helps the lad to gain success and
fortune.
=Tom Thatcher’s Fortune.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports
his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger
in John Simpson’s factory. Tom is discharged from the factory
and starts overland for California. He meets with many
adventures. The story is told in a way which has made Mr.
Alger’s name a household word in so many homes.
=The Train Boy.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his
mother and sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago
and Milwaukee Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of
picking the pocket of a young lady. In a railway accident
many passengers are killed, but Paul is fortunate enough to
assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into
his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well
started on the road to business prominence.
=Mark Mason’s Victory.= The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph
Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who
pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts
under many difficulties. This story will please the very large
class of boys who regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.
=A Debt of Honor.= The Story of Gerald Lane’s Success in the
Far West. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials
and disappointments which he passed through before he attained
success, will interest all boys who have read the previous
stories of this delightful author.
=Ben Bruce.= Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. By HORATIO
ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his
efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his
final success, are most interesting to all readers. The tale is
written in Mr. Alger’s most fascinating style.
=The Castaways;= or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo,
cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the
Sea Queen leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves
her becalmed off the coast of Florida, one can almost hear
the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her
straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. The adventures
of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake the cook, cannot
fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis
is a prime favorite.
=Wrecked on Spider Island=; or, How Ned Rogers Found the
Treasure. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Ned Rogers, a “down-east” plucky lad ships as cabin boy to
earn a livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while
there discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a
considerable amount of treasure. The capture of the treasure
and the incidents of the voyage serve to make as entertaining a
story of sea-life as the most captious boy could desire.
=The Search for the Silver City=: A Tale of Adventure in
Yucatan. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam
yacht Day Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is
destroyed by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of
Yucatan. They hear of the wonderful Silver City, of the Chan
Santa Cruz Indians, and with the help of a faithful Indian
ally carry off a number of the golden images from the temples.
Pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is effected
in an astonishing manner. The story is so full of exciting
incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the
novelty and realism of the narrative.
=A Runaway Brig=; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide
shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine
himself afloat with Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and
that old shell-back, Bob Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys
discover a mysterious document which enables them to find a
buried treasure. They are stranded on an island and at last are
rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure to be fascinated
with this entertaining story.
=The Treasure Finders=: A Boy’s Adventures in Nicaragua. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their
father’s indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of
an ancient city. The boys eagerly explore the temples of an
extinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden
away. They escape with the greatest difficulty. Eventually
they reach safety with their golden prizes. We doubt if there
ever was written a more entertaining story than “The Treasure
Finders.”
=Jack, the Hunchback.= A Story of the Coast of Maine. By JAMES
OTIS. Price $1.00.
This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape
Elizabeth, on the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are
most interesting. From first to last nothing stays the interest
of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose
current varies in direction, but never loses its force.
=With Washington at Monmouth=: A Story of Three Philadelphia
Boys. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges,
illustrated, price $1.50.
Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make
regular and frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter
while the British occupied the city. The story abounds with
pictures of Colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of
Washington’s soldiers which are given shown that the work has
not been hastily done, or without considerable study. The story
is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of Mr. Otis’
works.
=With Lafayette at Yorktown=: A Story of How Two Boys Joined
the Continental Army. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth,
olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
Two lads from Portmouth, N. H., attempt to enlist in the
Colonial Army, and are given employment as spies. There is no
lack of exciting incidents which the youthful reader craves,
but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which every
boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following
the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and Ned Allen he is acquiring a
fund of historical lore which will remain in his memory long
after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been
forgotten.
=At the Siege of Havana.= Being the Experiences of Three Boys
Serving under Israel Putnam in 1762. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo,
ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
“At the Siege of Havana” deals with that portion of the
island’s history when the English king captured the capital,
thanks to the assistance given by the troops from New England,
led in part by Col. Israel Putnam.
The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who,
represented as telling the story, and his comrades, Robert
Clement and Nicholas Vallet. Colonel Putnam also figures to
considerable extent, necessarily, in the tale, and the whole
forms one of the most readable stories founded on historical
facts.
=The Defense of Fort Henry.= A Story of Wheeling Creek in
1777. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges,
illustrated, price $1.50.
Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic
or thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and
women who founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of
Virginia. The recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself
as heroic a story as can be imagined. The wondrous bravery
displayed by Major McCulloch and his gallant comrades, the
sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of blood and
life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers.
=The Capture of the Laughing Mary.= A Story of Three New York
Boys in 1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine
edges, price $1.50.
“During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak
of the Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take
General Washington’s person, and calls in two companions to
assist the patriot cause. They do some astonishing things, and,
incidentally, lay the way for an American navy later, by the
exploit which gives its name to the work. Mr. Otis’ books are
too well known to require any particular commendation to the
young.”--=Evening Post.=
=With Warren at Bunker Hill.= A Story of the Siege of Boston.
By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges,
illustrated, price $1.50.
“This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day
after the doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description
of home life in Boston, introduces the reader to the British
camp at Charlestown, shows Gen. Warren at home, describes what
a boy thought of the battle of Bunker Hill, and closes with
the raising of the siege. The three heroes, George Wentworth,
Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of a young
Tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to
read.”--=Detroit Free Press.=
=With the Swamp Fox.= The Story of General Marion’s Spies. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This story deals with General Francis Marion’s heroic struggle
in the Carolinas. General Marion’s arrival to take command of
these brave men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might
have seen it, and although the story is devoted to what the
lads did, the Swamp Fox is ever present in the mind of the
reader.
=On the Kentucky Frontier.= A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of
the West. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
In the history of our country there is no more thrilling
story than that of the work done on the Mississippi river by
a handful of frontiersmen. Mr. Otis takes the reader on that
famous expedition from the arrival of Major Clarke’s force at
Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was captured. He relates that part
of Simon Kenton’s life history which is not usually touched
upon either by the historian or the story teller. This is one
of the most entertaining books for young people which has been
published.
=Sarah Dillard’s Ride.= A Story of South Carolina in 1780. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
“This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of
detail of the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against
the king’s troops. Major Ferguson is the prominent British
officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a
youth who experienced these adventures. In this way the famous
ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out as an incident of the
plot.”--=Boston Journal.=
=A Tory Plot.= A Story of the Attempt to Kill General
Washington. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
“‘A Tory Plot’ is the story of two lads who overhear something
of the plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to
capture or murder Washington. They communicate their knowledge
to Gen. Putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role
of detectives in the matter. They do so, and meet with many
adventures and hairbreadth escapes. The boys are, of course,
mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put into very
attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase
of the Revolution.”--=Pittsburgh Times.=
=A Traitor’s Escape.= A Story of the Attempt to Seize Benedict
Arnold. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
“This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter,
bringing clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the
early settlers in this country. In an historical work dealing
with this country’s past, no plot can hold the attention closer
than this one, which describes the attempt and partial success
of Benedict Arnold’s escape to New York, where he remained as
the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who actually figured
in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washington, are
included as characters.”--=Albany Union.=
=A Cruise with Paul Jones.= A Story of Naval Warfare in 1776.
By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
“This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones’ adventurous
life when he was hovering off the British coast, watching
for an opportunity to strike the enemy a blow. It deals more
particularly with his descent upon Whitehaven, the seizure of
Lady Selkirk’s plate, and the famous battle with the Drake.
The boy who figures in the tale is one who was taken from a
derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this particular cruise was
begun.”--=Chicago Inter-Ocean.=
=Corporal Lige’s Recruit.= A Story of Crown Point and
Ticonderoga. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
“In ‘Corporal Lige’s Recruit,’ Mr. Otis tells the amusing story
of an old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king
in ’58, and who takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his ‘personal
recruit.’ The lad acquits himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen
‘in the name of God and the continental congress,’ infuses
much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the
keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point, Ticonderoga,
Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical names
appear in this dramatic tale.”--=Boston Globe.=
=Morgan, the Jersey Spy.= A Story of the Siege of Yorktown in
1781. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
“The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize
the details of the work done during that memorable time were
real boys who lived on the banks of the York river, and who
aided the Jersey spy in his dangerous occupation. In the
guise of fishermen the lads visit Yorktown, are suspected of
being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks his life to
save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with
a squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the
bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes
of this volume one of the most entertaining books of the
year.”--=Inter-Ocean.=
=The Young Scout=: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By
EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the
most terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has
woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of
Geronimo’s last raid. The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a
recent graduate of West Point. Ambitious to distinguish himself
the young man takes many a desperate chance against the enemy
and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes with his life.
In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indian stories
now before the public.
=Adrift in the Wilds=: The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys.
By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San
Francisco. Off the coast of California the steamer takes fire.
The two boys reach the shore with several of the passengers.
Young Brandon becomes separated from his party and is captured
by hostile Indians, but is afterwards rescued. This is a very
entertaining narrative of Southern California.
=A Young Hero=; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo,
cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen
from the Misses Perkinpine, two very old and simple minded
ladies. Fred Sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to
discover the thieves and have them arrested. After much time
spent in detective work, he succeeds in discovering the silver
plate and winning the reward. The story is told in Mr. Ellis’
most fascinating style. Every boy will be glad to read this
delightful book.
=Lost in the Rockies.= A Story of Adventure in the Rocky
Mountains. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon
adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will
have experienced breathless enjoyment in this romantic story
describing many adventures in the Rockies and among the
Indians.
=A Jaunt Through Java=: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred
Mountain. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures
of two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across
the island of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a
land where the Royal Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other
fierce beasts are to be met with, it is but natural that the
heroes of this book should have a lively experience. There is
not a dull page in the book.
=The Boy Patriot.= A Story of Jack, the Young Friend of
Washington. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges,
illustrated, price $1.50.
“There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his
friends, whose pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves
from awkward fixes are always equal to the occasion. It is an
excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the
part of the hero. A very vivid description of the battle of
Trenton is also found in this story.”--=Journal of Education.=
=A Yankee Lad’s Pluck.= How Bert Larkin Saved his Father’s
Ranch in Porto Rico. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
“Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our
admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys
will delight in, whilst the story of his numerous adventures is
very graphically told. This will, we think, prove one of the
most popular boys’ books this season.”--=Gazette.=
=A Brave Defense.= A Story of the Massacre at Fort Griswold in
1781. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place
during the Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold,
Groton Heights, Conn., in 1781. The boys are real boys who
were actually on the muster rolls, either at Fort Trumbull on
the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on the Groton side of
the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey Sanford and
Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave comrades,
through their thrilling adventures will be learning something
more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of
fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must
prove serviceable in the arena of life.
=The Young Minuteman.= A Story of the Capture of General
Prescott in 1777. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
This story is based upon actual events which occurred during
the British occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay.
Darius Wale and William Northrop belong to “the coast patrol.”
The story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events.
There is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, and every
lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not
only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his
own patriotism and love of country are deepened.
=For the Temple=: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A.
HENTY. With illustrations by S. J. SOLOMON. 12mo, cloth,
olivine edges, price $1.00.
“Mr. Henty’s graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish
resistance to Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of
the famous wars of the world. The book is one of Mr. Henty’s
cleverest efforts.”--=Graphic.=
=Roy Gilbert’s Search=: A Tale of the Great Lakes. By WM. P.
CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He
arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes
on a steam launch. The three boys visit many points of interest
on the lakes. Afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman
and a lady from a sinking yacht. Later on the boys narrowly
escape with their lives. The hero is a manly, self-reliant boy,
whose adventures will be followed with interest.
=The Slate Picker=: The Story of a Boy’s Life in the Coal
Mines. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a story of a boy’s life in the coal mines of
Pennsylvania. Ben Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel,
but by grit and energy he advanced step by step until he found
himself called upon to fill the position of chief engineer of
the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a book of extreme interest
to every boy reader.
=The Boy Cruisers=; or, Paddling in Florida. By ST. GEORGE
RATHBORNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along
the Gulf coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first
adventure is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next
they run into a gale in the Gulf. After that they have a lively
time with alligators and Andrew gets into trouble with a band
of Seminole Indians. Mr. Rathborne knows just how to interest
the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat will do
well to read this entertaining story.
=Captured by Zulus=: A Story of Trapping in Africa. By HARRY
PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth
and Bob Harvey, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the
Zulus capture Dick and Bob and take them to their principal
kraal or village. The lads escape death by digging their way
out of the prison hut by night. They are pursued, but the
Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice tells exactly how
wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native stamping
grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading.
=Tom the Ready;= or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless,
ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune’s ladder to
wealth and the governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb
begins life with a purpose, and eventually overcomes those who
oppose him. How he manages to win the battle is told by Mr.
Hill in a masterful way that thrills the reader and holds his
attention and sympathy to the end.
=Captain Kidd’s Gold=: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor
Boy. By JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
There is something fascinating to the average youth in the
very idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes
of swarthy Portuguese and Spanish rascals, with black beards
and gleaming eyes. There were many famous sea rovers, but none
more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Paul Jones Garry inherits a
document which locates a considerable treasure buried by two of
Kidd’s crew. The hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering
lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts to
reach the island and secure the money form one of the most
absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press.
=The Boy Explorers=: The Adventures of Two Boys in Alaska. By
HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel to Alaska to
join their father in search of their uncle. On their arrival
at Sitka the boys with an Indian guide set off across the
mountains. The trip is fraught with perils that test the lads’
courage to the utmost. All through their exciting adventures
the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and
resolution, and their experience makes one of the most
interesting tales ever written.
=The Island Treasure=; or, Harry Darrel’s Fortune. By FRANK H.
CONVERSE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Harry Darrel, having received a nautical training on a
school-ship, is bent on going to sea. A runaway horse
changes his prospects. Harry saves Dr. Gregg from drowning
and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop yacht. Mr.
Converse’s stories possess a charm of their own which is
appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that
smack of salt water.
=Guy Harris=: The Runaway. By HARRY CASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Guy Harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the
Great Lakes. He is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse
of the rough side of life in a sailor’s boarding house. He
ships on a vessel and for five months leads a hard life. The
book will interest boys generally on account of its graphic
style. This is one of Castlemon’s most attractive stories.
=Julian Mortimer=: A Brave Boy’s Struggle for Home and Fortune.
By HARRY CASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in
the days when emigrants made their perilous way across the
great plains to the land of gold. There is an attack upon the
wagon train by a large party of Indians. Our hero is a lad of
uncommon nerve and pluck. Befriended by a stalwart trapper, a
real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy results.
=By Pike and Dyke=: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic.
By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by MAYNARD BROWN. 12mo,
cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.
“Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted
with the book, while the rest who only care for adventure will
be students in spite of themselves.”--=St. James’s Gazette.=
=St. George for England=: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By G.
A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth,
olivine edges, price $1.00.
“A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible
style the author has endeavored to show that determination and
enthusiasm can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage
is generally accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness.”--=Pall
Mall Gazette.=
=Captain Bayley’s Heir=: A Tale of the Gold Fields of
California. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET.
12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.
“Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment;
and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John
Holl, the Westminster dustman, Dickens himself could hardly
have excelled.”--=Christian Leader.=
=Budd Boyd’s Triumph=; or, The Boy Firm of Fox Island. By
WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The scene of this story is laid on the upper part of
Narragansett Bay, and the leading incidents have a strong
salt-water flavor. The two boys, Budd Boyd and Judd Floyd,
being ambitious and clear sighted, form a partnership to catch
and sell fish. Budd’s pluck and good sense carry him through
many troubles. In following the career of the boy firm of Boyd
& Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson--that
industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success.
=Lost in the Canyon=: Sam Willett’s Adventures on the Great
Colorado. By ALFRED R. CALHOUN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero,
and the fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if
the lad dies before he shall have reached his majority. The
story of his father’s peril and of Sam’s desperate trip down
the great canyon on a raft, and how the party finally escape
from their perils is described in a graphic style that stamps
Mr. Calhoun as a master of his art.
=Captured by Apes=: The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal
Trainer. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail
for Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities.
The vessel is wrecked off the coast of Borneo, and young
Garland is cast ashore on a small island, and captured by the
apes that overrun the place. Very novel indeed is the way by
which the young man escapes death. Mr. Prentice is a writer of
undoubted skill.
=Under Drake’s Flag=: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By G. A.
HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth,
olivine edges, price $1.00.
“There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the
book; but the author has so carefully worked up his subject
that the exciting deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor
absurd.”--=Observer.=
=By Sheer Pluck=: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. HENTY.
With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine
edges, price $1.00.
The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the
details of the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a
witness.
“Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys’
stories. ‘By Sheer Pluck’ will be eagerly read.”--=Athenæum.=
=With Lee in Virginia=: A Story of the American Civil War. By
G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth,
olivine edges, price $1.00.
“One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet
written. The picture is full of life and color, and the
stirring and romantic incidents are skillfully blended with the
personal interest and charm of the story.”--=Standard.=
=By England’s Aid=; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands
(1585-1604). By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by ALFRED
PEARSE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.
“It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with
stirring incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the
era and of the scene are finely reproduced. The illustrations
add to its attractiveness.”--=Boston Gazette.=
=By Right of Conquest=; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A.
HENTY. With illustrations by W. S. STACEY. 12mo, cloth, olivine
edges, price $1.50.
“The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under
the magnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully
ranked among the most romantic and daring exploits in
history. ‘By Right of Conquest’ is the nearest approach to a
perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty has yet
published.”--=Academy.=
=For Name and Fame=; or, Through Afghan Passes. By G. A. HENTY.
With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine
edges, price $1.00.
“Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms
of excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful,
an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a
long time possess a supreme interest for Englishmen, as being
the key to our Indian Empire.”--=Glasgow Herald.=
=The Bravest of the Brave=; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By
G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET, 12mo, cloth,
olivine edges, price $1.00.