 |
The girl who had spoken last stooped and looked under the bed; this motion was followed by a thrilling shriek.
"There's a man under the bed!" she screamed.
The other girls joined in; a wild chorus of shrieks arose, commingled with cries of "Robber!" "Thief!" "Burglar!"
Urged to desperation, I was about to roll out from my hiding-place and make a rush to get out, hoping to pass unrecognized by covering my face with my hands, when two or three dozen young men swooped into the room.
"What is it?"
"Where?"
"A man under the bed!"
"Let me at the rascal!"
"Ha! come out here, you villain!"
All was over. They dragged me out, covered with dust and feathers, and, pulling my despairing hands from over my miserable face, they turned me to the light. Then the fury and the threats subsided. There was a moment's profound silence—girls and fellows stared in mute astonishment, and then—then broke from one and all a burst of convulsive laughter. And in the midst of those shrieks and groans of mirth at my expense, everything grew dark, and I suffered no more. They told me afterward that I fainted dead away.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HE OPENS THE WRONG DOOR.
My mother and the ancient lady who presided over the mysteries of my initiation as a member of the human fraternity, say that I was born with a caul over my face. Now, what I want to know is, why didn't they leave that caul where they found it? What business had they to meddle with the veil which beneficent nature gave me as a shield to my infirmity? Had they respected her intention, they would have let it alone—poked a hole in it for me to eat and breathe through, and left the veil which she kindly provided to hide my blushing face from the eyes of my fellow-creatures.
Nature knew beforehand that I was going to be born to be bashful. Therefore she gave me a caul. Had this been respected as it should have been, I could have blossomed out into my full luxuriance as a cauliflower whereas now I am an ever-blooming peony.
When I rushed home after recovering from the fainting fit into which my hiding under the bed had driven me, I threw myself down in he sanctity of my private apartment and howled and shrieked for that caul of my infancy. But no caul came at my call. That dried and withered thing was reposing somewhere amid the curiosities of an old hag's bureau-drawer.
Then I wildly wished that I were the veiled prophet of Khorassan. But no! I was only bashful John Flutter, the butt and ridicule of a little meddling village.
I knew that this last adventure would revive the memory of all my previous exploits. I knew the girls would all go to see each other the next day so as to have a good giggle together. Worse than that, I knew there would be an unprecedented run of custom at the store. There wouldn't be a girl in the whole place who wouldn't require something in the dry-goods line the coming day; they would come and ask for pins and needles just for the heartless fun of seeing me enduring the pangs of mental pins and needles.
So I resolved that I would not get up that morning. The breakfast-bell rang three times; mother came up to knock at my door.
"Oh, I am so sleepy, mother!" I answered, with a big yawn; "you knew I was up last night. Don't want any breakfast, just another little nap."
So the good soul went down, leaving me to my wretched thoughts. At noon she came up again.
"John, you had better rise now. Father can't come to dinner there's so many customers in the store. Seems as if there was going to be a ball to-night again; every girl in town is after ribbon, or lace, or hair-pins, or something."
"I can't get up to-day, mother. I'm awfully unwell—got a high fever—you'll have to go in and lend father a helping hand"; and so she brought me a cup of tea and a piece of toast, and then went up to take father's place while he ate his dinner.
I guess she suspected I'd been done for again by the way those young women laughed when she told them I was sick in bed: for she was pretty cross when I sneaked down to tea, and didn't seem to worry about how I felt. Well, I kept pretty quiet the rest of the season. There were dances and sleighing parties, but I stayed away from them, and attended strictly to business.
I don't know but that I might have begun to enjoy some peace of mind, after the winter and part of the spring had passed without any very awful catastrophe having occurred to me; but, some time in the latter part of May, when the roses were just beginning to bloom, and everything was lovely, a pretty cousin from some distant part of the State came to spend a month at our house. I had never seen her before, and you may imagine how I felt when she rushed at me and kissed me, and called me her dear cousin John, just as if we had known each other all the days of our lives. I think it was a constant surprise to her to find that I was bashful. She wasn't a bit so. It embarrassed me a thousand times more to see how she would slyly watch out of the corner of her laughing eye for the signs of my diffidence.
Well, of course, all the girls called on her, and boys too, as to that, and I had to take her to return their visits, and I was in hot water all the time. Before she went away, mother gave her a large evening party. I behaved with my usual elegance of manner, stepping on the ladies' trains and toes in dancing, calling them by other people's names, and all those little courtesies for which I was so famous. I even contrived to sit down where there was no chair, to the amusement of the fellows. My cousin Susie was going away the next day. I was dead in love with her, and my mind was taken up with the intention of telling her so. I had not the faintest idea of whether she cared for me or not. She had laughed at me and teased me mercilessly.
On the contrary, she had been very encouraging to Tom Todd, a young lawyer of the place—a little snob, with self-conceit enough in his dapper body for six larger men. This evening he had been particularly attentive to her. Susie was pretty and quite an heiress, so I knew Tom Todd would try to secure her. He was just that kind of a fellow who could propose to a girl while he was asking her out for a set of the lanciers, or handing her a plate of salad at supper. Alas, I could do nothing of the kind. With all my superior opportunities, here the last evening was half through, and I had not yet made a motion to secure the prize. I watched Tom as if he had been a thief and I a detective. I was cold and hot by turns whenever he bent to whisper in Susie's ear, as he did about a thousand times. At last, as supper-time approached, I saw my cousin slip out into the dining-room. I thought mother had sent her to see that all was right, before marshalling the company out to the feast.
"Now, or never," I thought, turning pale as death; and with one resolute effort I slipped into the hall and so into the dining-room.
Susie was there, doing something; but when she saw me enter she gave a little shriek and darted into the pantry. No! I was not to be baffled thus. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but I thought of that snob in the parlor, and pressed on to the pantry-door.
"Susie," said I, very softly, trying to open it—"Susie, I must speak to you. Let me in."
The more I tried to open the door the more firmly she held it.
"Do go along with you, cousin John," she answered.
"I can't, Susie. I want to see you a minute."
"See me? Oh, what a wicked fellow! Go along, or I'll tell your mother."
"Tell, or not; for once I'm going to have my own way," I said, and pressing my knee against the door, I forced it open, and there stood my pretty cousin, angry and blushing, trying to hide from my view the crinoline which had come off in the parlor.
I retreated, closing the door and waiting for her to re-appear.
In a few minutes she came out, evidently offended.
"Susie," I stammered, "I did—did—didn't dream your bus—bus—bustle had come off. I only wanted to tell you that—that I pr—pr—pri—prize your li—li—li—"
"But I never lie," she interrupted me, saucily.
"That I shall be the most mis—is—is—er—able fellow that ever—"
"Now don't make a goose of yourself, cousin John," she said, sweetly, laying her little hand on my shoulder for an instant. "Stop where you are! Tom Todd asked me to marry him, half an hour ago, and I said I would."
Tom Todd, then, had got the start of me; after all. Worse! he had sneaked into the dining-room after Susie, and had come up behind us and heard every word. As I turned, dizzy and confused, I saw his smiling, insolent face. Enraged, unhappy, and embarrassed by his grieving triumph, I hastily turned to retreat into the pantry! Unfortunately, there were two doors close together, one leading to the pantry, the other to the cellar. In my blind embarrassment I mistook them; and the next moment the whole company were startled by a loud bump—bumping, a crash, and a woman's scream.
There was a barrel of soft-soap at the foot of the cellar-stairs, and I fell, head first, into that.
CHAPTER XIX.
DRIVEN FROM HIS LAST DEFENCE.
Susie was Mrs. Todd before I recovered from the effects of my involuntary soap-bath.
"Smart trick!" cried my father when he fished me out of the barrel.
I thought it was smart, sure enough, by the sensation in my eyes. But I have drawn a veil over that bit of my history. I know my eyesight was injured for all that summer. I could not tell a piece of silk from a piece of calico, except by the feeling; so I was excused from clerking in the store, and sat round the house with green goggles on, and wished I were different from what I was. By fall my eyesight got better. One day father came in the parlor where I was sitting moping, having just seen Tom Todd drive by in a new buggy with his bride, and said to me:
"John, I am disappointed in you."
"I know it," I answered him meekly.
"You look well enough, and you have talent enough," he went on; "but you are too ridiculously bashful for an ostrich."
"I know it," I again replied. "Oh, father, father, why did they take that caul from my face?"
"That—what?" inquired my puzzled sire.
"That caul—wasn't I born with a caul, father?"
"Now that I recall it, I believe you were," responded father, while his stern face relaxed into a smile, "and I wish to goodness they had left it on you, John; but they didn't, and that's an end of it. What I was going to say was this. Convinced that you will never succeed as my successor—that your unconquerable diffidence unfits you for the dry-goods trade—I have been looking around for some such situation as I have often heard you sigh for. The old light-house keeper on Buncombe Island is dead, and I have caused you to be appointed his successor. You will not see a human being except when supplies are brought to you, which, in the winter, will be only once in two months. Even then your peace will not be disturbed by any sight of one of the other sex. You will not need a caul there! Go, my son, and remain until you can outgrow your absurd infirmity."
I felt dismayed at the prospect, now that it was so near at hand. I had often—in the distance—yearned for the security of a light-house. Yet I now looked about on our comfortable parlor with a longing eye. I recalled the pleasant tea-hour when there were no visitors; I thought of the fun the boys and girls would have this coming winter, and I wished father had not been so precipitate in securing that vacant place.
Just then Miss Gabble came up our steps, and shortly after entered the parlor. She was one of those dreaded beings, who always filled me with the direst confusion. She sat right down by my side and squeezed my hand.
"My poor, dear fellow-mortal!" said she, getting her sharp face so close to mine I thought she was going to kiss me, "how do you do? Wearing them goggles yet? It is too bad. And yet, after all, they are sort of becoming to you. In fact, you're so good-looking you can wear anything. And how your mustache does grow, to be sure!"
I saw father was getting up to leave the room, and I flung her hand away, saying quickly to him: "I'll get the glass of water, father."
And so I beat him that time, and got out of the room, quite willing to live in the desert of Sahara, if by it I could get rid of such females.
Well, I went to Buncombe Island. I retired from the world to a light-house in the first bloom of my youth. I did not want to be a monk—I could not be a man—and so I did what fate and my father laid out for me to do. Through the fine autumn weather I enjoyed my retirement. I had taken plenty of books and magazines with me to while away the time; there was a lovely promenade along the sea-wall on which the tall tower stood, and I could walk there for hours without my pulse being disturbed by visions of parasols, loves of bonnets, and pretty faces under them. I communed with the sea. I told it my rations were too salt; that I didn't like the odor of the oil in filling the lamps; that my legs got tired going up to the lantern, and that my arms gave out polishing the lenses. I also confided to it that I would not mind these little trifles if I only had one being to share my solitude—a modest, shy little creature that I wouldn't be afraid to ask to be my wife.
"Oh, had we some bright little isle of our own, In a blue summer ocean far off and alone."
I'd forget the curse of my life and be happy in spite of it.
When winter shut down, however, I didn't talk quite so much to the sea; it was ugly and boisterous, and the windy promenade was dangerous, and I shut myself up and pined like the "Prisoner of Chillon." I have lots of spunk and pride, if I am bashful; and so I never let on to those at home—when I sent them a letter once in two months by the little tug that brought my oil and provisions—that I was homesick. I said the ocean was glorious; that there was a Byronic sublimity in lighting up the lantern; that standing behind a counter and showing dry-goods to silly, giggling girls couldn't be compared with it; that I hadn't blushed in six months, and that I didn't think I should ever be willing to come back to a world full of grinning snobs and confusing women.
And now, what do you think happened to me? My fate was too strong even for Buncombe Island. It was the second of January. The tug had not left the island, after leaving a nine-weeks' supply, more than twelve hours before a fearful gale began to blow; it rose higher and higher through the night, and in the morning I found that a small sailing-vessel had been wrecked about half a mile from the light-house, where the beach ran out for some distance into the water, and the land was not so high as on the rock. I ran down there, the wind still roaring enough to blow me away, and the spray dashing into my eyes, and I found the vessel had gone to pieces and every man was drowned.
But what was this that lay at my feet? A woman, lashed to a spar, and apparently dead. When I picked her up, though, she opened her eyes and shut them again. Enough! this was no time to think of peculiar difficulties. I lugged her to the warm room in the light-house where I sat and lived. I put her before the fire; I heated some brandy and poured it between her lips; in short, when I sat down to my little tea-table late that afternoon, somebody sat on the opposite side—a woman—a girl, rather, not more than eighteen or nineteen. Here she was, and here she must remain for two long months.
She did not seem half so much put out as I. In fact, she was quite calm, after she had explained to me that she was one of three passengers on board the sailing-vessel, and that all the others were drowned.
"You will have to remain here for two months," I ventured to explain to her, coloring like a lobster dabbed into hot water.
"Oh, then, I may as well begin pouring the tea at once," she observed coolly; "that's a feminine duty, you know, sir."
"I'm glad you're not afraid of me," I ventured to say.
"Afraid of you!" she replied, tittering. "No, indeed. It is you who are afraid of me. But I sha'n't hurt you, sir. You mind your affairs, and I'll mind mine, and neither of us will come to grief. Why, what a lot of books you've got! And such an easy-chair! It's just splendid here, and so romantic, like the stories we read."
I repressed a groan, and allowed her, after supper, and she had done as she said—washed the dishes—to take possession of my favorite book and my favorite seat. She was tired with her adventures of the night before, and soon asked where she was to sleep.
"In there," I answered, pointing to the door of a small bedroom which opened out of the living-room.
She went in, and locked the door; and I went up to the lantern to see that all was right, and to swear and tear around a little. Here was a two-months'-long embarrassment! Here was all my old trouble back in a new shape! What would my folks—what would the world say? Would they believe the story about the wreck? Must my character suffer? Even at the best, I must face this girl of the period from morning until night. She had already discovered that I was bashful; she would take advantage of it to torment me. What would the rude men say when they came again with supplies?
Better measure tape in my father's store for a lot of teasing young ladies whom I know, than dwell alone in a light-house with this inconsiderate young woman!
"If ever I get out of this scrape, I will know when I am well off!" I moaned, tearing my hair, and gazing wildly at the pitiless lights.
Suddenly a thought struck me. I had seen a small boat beached near the scene of the wreck; it probably had belonged to the ship. I remained in the lantern until it began to grow daybreak; then I crept down and out, and ran to examine that boat. It was water-proof, and one of its oars still remained. The waves were by this time comparatively calm. I pushed the boat into the water, jumped in, rowed around to the other side of the island, and that day I made thirty miles, with only one oar, landing at the city dock at sunset. I was pretty well used-up I tell you. But I had got away from that solitary female, who must have spent a pensive day at Buncombe, in wondering what had become of me. I reported at headquarters that night, resigned, and started for home. I'm afraid the light-house lamps were not properly tended that night; still, they may have been, and that girl was equal to anything.
Such is life! Such has been my experience. Do you wonder that I am still a bachelor? I will not go on, relating circumstances in my life which have too much resemblance to each other. It would only be a repetition of my miserable blunders. But I will make a proposition to young ladies in general. I am well-to-do; the store is in a most flourishing condition; I have but one serious fault, and you all know what that is. Now, will not some of you take pity on me? I might be waylaid, blindfolded, lifted into a carriage, and abducted. I might be brought before a minister and frightened into marrying any nice, handsome, well-bred girl that had courage enough for such an emergency. Once safely wedded, I have a faint idea that my bashfulness will wear off. Come! who is ready to try the experiment?
* * * * *
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* * * * *
OGILVIE'S POPULAR
RAILROAD SERIES.
A KENTUCKY EDITOR O. READ
FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH A. W. MARCHMONT
WITH FORCE AND ARMS HOWARD R. GARIS
THE BUBBLE FAMILY 175 illus BOB BUBBLE
200 OLD-TIME SONGS. Words and Music.
CHORUS GIRLS I HAVE KNOWN FRANK DESHON
'WAY BACK IN '61 G. M. WHITE
MODERN PALMISTRY; or, Guide to the Hand INA OXENFORD
THE RACING PARSON CHAS. JOSIAH ADAMS
'WAY DOWN EAST JOS. R. GRISMER
MORE TO BE PITIED THAN SCORNED C. E. BLANEY
DESERTED AT THE ALTAR GRACE MILLER WHITE
A WIFE'S CONFESSIONS GRACE MILLER WHITE
WHY WOMEN SIN GRACE MILLER WHITE
A CLEVER ESCAPE NAT GOULD
A BID FOR FREEDOM GUY BOOTHBY
CHASED BY FIRE NAT GOULD
A GREAT STRUGGLE NAT GOULD
PEOPLE I'VE SMILED WITH MARSHALL P. WILDER
HIS CUBAN SWEETHEART RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE
A FASCINATING TRAITOR RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE
A CAPTIVE PRINCESS RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE
AN EXILE FROM LONDON RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE
MY OFFICIAL WIFE RICHARD HENRY SAVAGE
THE TRAGEDY OF ADREA E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
RICHARD BAXTER EDWARD F. JONES
THE DREAM OF LOVE EMIL ZOLA
HIRAM BIRDSEED AT JAMESTOWN HIRAM BIRDSEED
A FAITHFUL LOVER AMELIE RIVES
A GENTLEMAN FROM MISSISSIPPI THOS. A. WISE
THE LETTERS OF MILDRED'S MOTHER TO MILDRED E. D. PRICE
THE PRIDE OF THE RANCHO HENRY E. SMITH
THE ASHES OF LOVE CHARLES GARVICE
ST. ELMO AUGUSTA J. EVANS
ARSENE LUPIN, Gentleman Burglar MAURICE LEBLANO
ARSENE LUPIN versus HERLOCK SHOLMES M. LEBLANO
TANGLES UNTANGLED PAT RICE
100 STORIES IN BLACK BRIDGES SMITH
A WOMAN'S SOUL CHARLES GARVICE
THE CHINATOWN TRUNK MYSTERY OLIVE HARPER
SHERLOCK HOLMES DETECTIVE STORIES. A. C. DOYLE
Any of the above books are for sale by newsdealers everywhere, or they will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents per copy. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUB. CO., 57, Ross Street, New york.
* * * * *
HERE'S ANOTHER ONE!
If you have read any of the detective stories which we have recommended to you, such as THE WORLD'S FINGER, MACON MOORE, Etc., you know that our statements in regard to their being "the real thing" were not overdrawn. We now have another one just as good, which we unhesitatingly recommend. It is entitled
THE HOUSE
BY THE RIVER
BY
FLORENCE WARDEN.
WHAT THE REVIEWERS SAY OF IT.
"Florence Warden is the Anna Katharine Greene of England. She apparently has the same marvelous capacity as Mrs. Rohlfs for concocting the most complicated plots and most mystifying mysteries, and serving them up hot to her readers."—N. Y. Globe.
"The author has a knack of intricate plot-work which will keep an intelligent reader at her books, when he would become tired over far better novels not so strongly peppered. For even the 'wisest men' now and then relish not only a little nonsense, but as well do they enjoy a thrilling story of mystery. And this is one—a dark, deep, awesome, compelling if not convincing tale."—Sacramento Bee.
"The interest of the story is deep and intense, and many guesses might be made of the outcome, as one reads along, without hitting on the right one."—Salt Lake Tribune.
This book contains 310 pages, printed in large clear type, and is bound in handsome paper cover. It is for sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or it will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price, 25 cents. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
SENSATIONAL
FRENCH FICTION
makes a strong appeal to a certain class of readers—people who have lived long enough to realize that there are huge problems of sex and matrimony, that can only be solved through the actual experience of the persons concerned. Numberless books have been and are being written and published treating on these questions, and if through reading them we are enabled to enlarge our view, look at our problem from a different angle, appropriate for our own use the benefit of others' experience either actual or imaginary, by just so much are we better able to live and think aright and secure to ourselves the happiness that is our inherent right and goal.
SAPPHO
BY ALPHONSE DAUDET,
is a book dealing with the great elements of love and passion as depicted by life in the gay French capital, Paris. It created an enormous sensation when first written, and has been in steady demand ever since from those who, for the first time, have a chance to read it. It should be read by every thoughtful man and woman.
For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, 50 cents.
* * * * *
WELL! WELL!! WELL!!!
Talk about your mystery and detective stories—
THE MYSTERY
OF THE
RAVENSPURS
By FRED. M. WHITE,
is certainly a hummer.
Mr. White stands in the forefront of the mystery and detective story writers of the English speaking world to-day, and this is one of his best and latest books.
Do you like surprises that make your eyes open wide? Sustained excitement and strange scenes that compel you to read on page after page with unflagging interest? Something that lifts you out of your world of care and business, and transports you to another land, clime, and scenes? Then don't fail to read
The Mystery of the Ravenspurs.
It is a romantic tale of adventure, mystery and amateur detective work, with scenes laid in England, India, and the distant and comparatively unknown Thibet. A band of mystics from the latter country are the prime movers in the various conspiracies, and their new, unique, weird, strange methods form one of the features of the story.
Read of the clever detective work by blind Ralph, which borders upon the supernatural; of walking the black Valley of Death in Thibet, with its attendant horrors; of the Princess Zara, and her power, intrigue and treachery laid bare; of the poisonous bees and the deadly perfume flowers. Unflagging interest holds your spell-bound attention from cover to cover.
NEW! UP-TO-DATE! ENTERTAINING!
The book contains 320 pages, bound in paper cover, with handsome illustration in colors. Formerly published in cloth at $1.25, now issued in paper covers at 25 CENTS.
For sale by booksellers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price. Address
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
The Price Inevitable;
OR,
THE CONFESSIONS OF IRENE.
BY
AURELIA I. SIDNER.
Confessions of whatever nature always seem to appeal to the American people, possibly because of the fact that in writing such a confession the author usually lays bare the one great wrong committed, and endeavors to show and teach by example and experience how the mistake or indiscretion could have been avoided, and how, also, there must always be paid THE PRICE INEVITABLE.
This story tells, in a series of letters, of a woman who was divorced from her husband, but who in order to win the love and respect of a pure, honest man, strives to live aright. She fails to win his love, however, owing to her past life, but does succeed in redeeming herself. The story is charmingly written, and is more than interesting—it holds one spell-bound. It is full of excitement and action, and the characters are strongly drawn and true to nature. The moral tone is refreshing and the climax is a lengthy SERMON in itself.
The book contains 212 pages with 3 full-page half-tone illustrations, and can be obtained at your dealers or from us, cloth bound, for 50 cents, postpaid.
* * * * *
HERE WE COME AGAIN
With Another Rattling Good
ADVENTURE AND DETECTIVE STORY!
SPRIGGS, THE
CRACKSMAN.
By HEADON HILL
Ordinarily Spriggs was a cracksman, but the information he gained while at work one night so surprised him, that he forgot to "burgle," and then and there decided to get busy on a job that meant a cleanup of a $60,000 diamond. It led him a perilous chase in which the native priests and followers of a hidden band in India showed him some things not seen on the "Strand."
He also has trouble awaiting him on his return to England. His heart is in the right place, however, a little kindness, sympathy and help having been all that were required to change his attitude toward humanity, and he is able to show his gratitude at an opportune moment.
A STIRRING, ENTERTAINING,
SPELL-BINDING STORY!
The book contains 345 solid pages of reading matter, bound in attractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, 25 cents.
* * * * *
DO YOU ENJOY
reading a book that has just enough dash and piquancy about it to cause a smile to wreathe your face? A book that tells in an extremely humorous way of the doings of some smart theatrical folk? Life is many sided, and our book,
THE LETTERS OF
MILDRED'S MOTHER TO MILDRED
BY E. D. PRICE,
shows one of the sides with which you may not be familiar.
Mildred is a girl in the chorus at one of New York's famous theatres, and her mother is a woman who "travels" with a friend by the name of Blanche. The book is written by E. D. Price, "The Man Behind the Scenes," one well qualified to touch upon the stage-side of life.
The following is the Table of Contents:
Mother at the Races.
Mother at a Chicago Hotel.
Mother Goes Yachting.
Mother Escapes Matrimony,
Mother Meets Nature's Noblemen.
Mother Joins the Repertoire Company.
Mother in the One Night Stands.
Mother and the Theatrical Angel.
Mother Returns to Mildred.
Read what Blakely Hall says of it:
"I don't know whether you are aware of it or not, but you are turning out wonderful, accurate and convincing character studies in the Mildred's Mother articles. They are as refreshing and invigorating as showers on the hottest July day."
The book contains 160 pages, with attractive cover in colors. Price, cloth bound, $1.00; paper cover, 50 cents. For sale by all booksellers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price. Address
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
The Testing of
Olive Vaughan
By PERCY J. BREBNER,
Author of "The Princess Maritza," Etc.
The stage has ever held an allurement for the lay reader, the general public, and the uninitiated, so to speak, and Mr. Brebner has chosen this background for the setting of his story, and has woven around Olive Vaughan, scenes and incidents showing the temptations to which every aspirant for theatrical fame and fortune is subject, and showing too, how, through right decisions and correct judgment based on inborn and developing strength of character, she is able to rise superior to her surroundings and wrest a great success. This is not easy to accomplish, however, and its telling, which shows a fine literary style and unquestioned powers of characterization and description, is what makes the author one of the most popular among fiction writers of the present day.
It will appeal strongly to every woman who has at any time in her career been called upon to decide the momentous question of marrying—whether to follow the dictates of the heart and marry the one she loves, or follow the decisions of the mind overruling the heart, and marry one who can give her position and plenty, and whom she expects to be able to learn to love.
The book contains 296 pages, printed from new, large type on good paper, bound in paper cover with attractive design in colors. For sale by newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents. Bound in cloth, price, 75 cents.
* * * * *
The Confessions
Of a Princess
A book of this sort would necessarily be anonymous, and the name of the author is not necessary as indicative of literary ability, the strength of the story depending upon its action as revealed through the laying bare of the innermost secrets of a "Princess of the Realm" whose disposition and character were such as to compel her to find elsewhere than in her own home the love, tenderness, admiration, and society which was lacking there, and which her being craved.
Position, money and power, seem to those who do not possess them, to bring happiness. Such is not the case, however, where stability of character is lacking and where one depends upon the pleasures of sense for the enjoyment of life rather than on the accomplishment of things worth while based on high ideals.
The writer has taken a page from her life and has given it to the world. She has laid bare the soul of a woman, that some other woman (or some man) might profit thereby. The names have been changed, and such events omitted as might lead too readily to the discovery of their identity. Each the victim of circumstance, yet the price is demanded of the one who fell the victim of environment.
The Confessions of a Princess is the story of a woman who saw, conquered and fell.
The book contains 270 pages, printed from new, large type on good paper, bound in paper cover with attractive design in colors. For sale by newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt, of 25 cents. Bound in cloth, price, 75 cents.
* * * * *
AN AUTOMOBILE
has a fascination for millions of people. There is an exhilaration, a restful, soothing, satisfying feeling about automobiling for pleasure that seems different from that achieved in other ways. But it has its trying, adventurous, and fearful side as well, and so to those who have experienced these emotions, and to those who would like to experience them, we heartily recommend the book
THE CAR
AND THE LADY
By GRACE S. MASON and PERCY F. MEGARGEL,
in which actual experience has been partially interwoven with fiction in an exciting narrative of a race across the American continent. Adventure, mistakes, accidents, good fortune, and surprise, follow one another in rapid succession, keeping the tension of the reader at excitement pitch until the goal is reached and the prize won—a prize which at some time in every one's career is quite the only prize on earth.
The book contains 276 pages of solid reading matter, printed from large, new type on good quality of paper, and bound in attractive paper covers printed in colors. It is for sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents.
* * * * *
LATEST ADDITIONS
TO
OGILVIE'S
POPULAR
RAILROAD
SERIES.
SPRIGGS, THE CRACKSMAN HEADON HILL
LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT THE "DUCHESS"
THE TESTING OF OLIVE VAUGHAN P. T. BREBNER
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PRINCESS —— ——
SELF-RAISED MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH
ISHMAEL MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH
ONLY A GIRL'S LOVE CHARLES GARVICE
SAPPHO ALPHONSE DAUDET
THE HUMOROUS MR. BOWSER M. QUAD
A BAD BOY'S DIARY BY HIMSELF
A WOUNDED HEART CHARLES GARVICE
EAST LYNNE MRS. HENRY WOOD
THE PEER AND THE WOMAN E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
ALONE ON A WIDE, WIDE SEA W. CLARK RUSSELL
DANGERS OF WORKING GIRLS GRACE MILLER WHITE
A LOYAL SLAVE GRACE MILLER WHITE
Any of the above books are for sale by newsdealers everywhere, or they will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents per copy. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
MACON MOORE,
THE
SOUTHERN DETECTIVE.
Here is another rattling good book that we unhesitatingly recommend to every one who enjoys a thrilling detective story. Each chapter contains a startling episode in the attempt of MACON MOORE to run to earth a gang of moonshiners in Southern Georgia, whose business was that of manufacturing illicit whisky.
His capture by the "Night Riders," and his daring escape from them at their meeting in the Valley of Death, forms one of the many exciting incidents of the story.
One of our readers writes to us as follows:
"I was absolutely unable to stop reading "Macon Moore" until I had finished it. I expected to read for an hour or so, but the situations were so dramatic and exciting at the end of each chapter, that before I knew it I had started the next one. I have read it three times, once while practicing exercises on the piano, and shall read it again. It is a corker."
The book contains 250 pages, is bound in paper covers, and will be sent to any address by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
READ IT! READ IT! READ IT!
THE ASHES OF LOVE.
... BY ...
CHARLES GARVICE,
The Matchless Magician of Fiction.
UNPARALLELED IN INTEREST!
UNEQUALLED IN ITS
THRILLING SITUATIONS!
Unsurpassed in Dramatic Intensity
This Marvellous Story of Love,
Passion, Mystery, Intrigue
and Adventure Holds the
Reader Spell-bound.
From the pastoral beauty and palatial mansions of a northern clime, we follow hero and heroine, with breathless interest, to the sun-scorched veldt and arid plains of Southern Africa.
On two continents we watch the battle between VIRTUE AND VILLAINY—HONOR AND RASCALITY—JUSTICE AND KNAVERY.
By the magic art of the author we are transformed from mere readers, and become actual participants in a life drama of tremendous interest—a drama which stirs every fibre of our being and sends the blood coursing like a mill-race through the tense arteries of a spell-bound body.
THE CONVENTIONAL SCORNED!
THE COMMONPLACE SPURNED!
New Faces! New Types! New Scenes! New Thrills!
SEIZE THE GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY HERE AND NOW.
Don't Procrastinate! Don't Delay! But Buy and Read this
Stupendous Masterpiece of Matchless Fiction.
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
The Ashes of Love contains nearly 450 pages of solid reading matter, printed in large type on good quality of paper, bound in paper covers with attractive cover design in two colors. It is for sale by newsdealers and booksellers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents.
* * * * *
Do You Enjoy
A Good Story of the Western Plains?
If So, Don't Fail to Read
The Pride of the Rancho.
By HENRY E. SMITH.
12mo, 192 Pages. Price, Paper Bound,
25 Cents; Bound in Cloth, $1.00.
The story is founded upon his play of the same name.
The scene is laid in the West, where two college men have gone in quest of health, and found it. It shows two manly, unselfish characters, such as the youth of the present day might well emulate.
It is full of the air, the love, and the excitement of the plains. The plot is fascinating and the love story charming.
A pretty romance is woven into the narrative, portraying the personal charms and clever attractiveness of the Western girl, even though the daughter of a ranchman. It carries a good moral throughout and is eminently attractive to both young and old.
The book contains 192 pages, with a frontispiece illustration. Price, paper bound, 25 cents; bound in cloth, $1.00. For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price.
* * * * *
Eureka Detective Series
All of the books in the Eureka Series are clever detective stories, and each one of those mentioned below has received the heartiest recommendation. Ask for the Eureka Series detective books.
1. Inspector Henderson, the Central Office Detective. By H. I. Hancock
2. His Evil Eye. By Harrie I. Hancock
3. Detective Johnson of New Orleans. By H. I. Hancock
4. Harry Blount, the Detective. By T. J. Flanagan
5. Harry Sharp, the New York Detective. By H. Rockwood
6. Private Detective No. 39. By John W. Postgate
7. Not Guilty. By the author of "The Original Mr. Jacobs"
8. A Confederate Spy. By Capt. Thos. N. Conrad
9. A Study in Scarlet. By A. Conan Doyle
10. The Unwilling Bride. By Fergus W. Hume
11. The Man Who Vanished. By Fergus W. Hume
12. The Lone Inn. By Fergus W. Hume
13. The World's Finger. By T. Hanshew
14. Tour of the World in Eighty Days. By Jules Verne
15. The Frozen Pirate. By W. Clark Russell
16. Mystery of a Hansom Cab. By Fergus W. Hume
17. A Close Call. By J. L. Berry
18. No. 99; A Detective Story. By Arthur Griffith
19. The Sign of the Four. By A. Conan Doyle
20. The Mystery of the Montauk Mills. By E. L. Coolidge
21. The Mountain Limited. By E. L. Coolidge
22. Gilt-Edge Tom, Conductor. By E. L. Coolidge
23. The Mossbank Murder. By Harry Mills
24. The Woman Stealer. By Harry Mills
25. King Dan, The Factory Detective. By G. W. Goode
See other advertisement for other list of titles in the Eureka Series.
You can obtain the Eureka Series books where you bought this one, or we will mail them to you, postpaid, for 25 cents each, or any five for $1.00. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
NEW YORK'S LATEST SENSATION
We have just issued in novel form
the story of
THE DEVIL,
founded upon the successful and much discussed play of the same name by
FERENC MOLNAR,
as produced by
HENRY W. SAVAGE.
The title is startling. The story is not so startling as the title would indicate. It is a strongly moral one, showing in a vivid, realistic manner the result of evil thinking. The Devil in this story is evil thinking materialized.
The scene centers in Vienna, and deals with the early love of a poor artist and a poorer maiden. As the years go by the artist achieves distinction, and the maiden becomes the wife of a millionaire merchant—with very little romance in his composition, but thoroughly devoted to his young and beautiful bride.
Seven years later the artist (who has been received as a valued friend of the family) is commissioned to paint the wife's portrait—and the old love re-asserts itself. For a while the issue is problematical; but stability of character conquers, and the ending is quite as the heart would wish.
The book also contains an article by the noted author, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, pointing out the strong moral to be deduced.
It contains 190 pages, printed in large, clear type on best quality of book paper, with eight half-tone illustrations from the play. Price, handsomely bound in cloth, 50 cents, net, postage 10 cents additional; bound in paper covers, 25 cents, postpaid.
For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail upon receipt of price.
* * * * *
OGILVIE'S POPULAR COPYRIGHT LINE
THE NEW MAYOR
A Novel
Founded upon GEORGE BROADHURST'S play
The Man of the Hour
Handsomely bound in cloth and stamped in colors, containing 250 pages with twelve illustrations from the play
Price 50 cents, net, postage 10 cents additional
It has been issued under the title of THE NEW MAYOR, in order not to conflict with a book published under the title, The Man of the Hour.
Thousands of people have not had the opportunity of seeing the play, and to them, as well as to those who have seen it, we desire to announce that we are the authorized publishers of the Story of George Broadhurst's Play in book form. There is already an enormous demand for this book, owing to the fact that the play is meeting with such a tremendous success, having been presented in New York for over six hundred consecutive performances, with four companies on tour throughout the United States.
The play has received the highest praise and commendation from critics and the press, a few of which we give herewith:
"THE FINEST PLAY I EVER SAW."—Ex-President Roosevelt.
"The best in years."—N. Y. Telegram.
"A perfect success."—N. Y. Sun.
"A triumph."—N. Y. American.
"Best play yet."—N. Y. Commercial.
"A sensation."—N. Y. Herald.
"An apt appeal."—N. Y Globe.
"A straight hit."—N. Y. World.
"A play worth while."—N. Y. News.
"Means something."—N. Y. Tribune.
"An object lesson."—N. Y. Post.
This novel is a strong story of politics, love, and graft, and appeals powerfully to every true American.
SENT BY MAIL, POSTAGE PAID, FOR 60 CENTS.
Be sure to get the book founded on the play.
You can buy this at any bookstore or direct from us.
* * * * *
THE BIG NOISE! THE LOUD SCREAM! THE TALL HOLLER!
You Will Laugh, You Will Yell,
You Will Scream at
THE BLUNDERS OF
A BASHFUL MAN
The World's Champion
Funny Book.
READ IT! READ IT! READ IT!
It eradicates wrinkles, banishes care, and by its laughter-compelling mirth and irresistible humor rejuvenates the whole body. Whether you are a bashful man or not, you should read
THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN.
In this screamingly funny volume the reader follows, with rapt attention and hilarious delight, the mishaps, mortifications, confusions, and agonizing mental and physical distresses of a self-conscious, hypersensitive, appallingly bashful young man, in a succession of astounding accidents, and ludicrous predicaments, that convulse the reader with cyclonic laughter, causing him to hold both sides for fear of exploding from an excess of uproarious merriment.
All records beaten as a fun-maker, rib-tickler, and laugh-provoker. This marvellous volume of merriment proves melancholy an impostor, and grim care a joke. With joyous gales of mirth it dissipates gloom and banishes trouble.
YOU WANT IT! YOU CANNOT DO WITHOUT IT!
Better Than Drugs! Better Than Vaudeville!
A WHOLE CIRCUS IN ITSELF!
The Time, the Place, the Opportunity is Here!
BUY IT NOW!
THE BLUNDERS OF A BASHFUL MAN contains 170 solid pages of reading matter, illustrated, is bound in heavy lithographed paper covers, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25 cents. Address orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
SYMPATHY AROUSED! SENTIMENT CULTIVATED!
LONGING SATISFIED!
LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT.
By "THE DUCHESS."
Author of "Molly Bawn," "The Honorable Mrs. Vereker," Etc.
"The Duchess" is famous as an author of those stories which delight the heart and mind of young women readers through the artistic word-painting of scenes and incidents which arouse interest, stimulate desire, and satisfy the appetite for mental diversion, recreation, entertainment, and pleasure.
LADY VERNER'S FLIGHT is no exception to her reputed ability; in fact, in it she quite surpasses her own standard, and the reader follows with breathless interest the vicissitudes and trials that mark the course of this pure story of English life in which there are no less than three love affairs going on at the same time.
WITHOUT A PARALLEL IN INTEREST!
ABOUNDING IN TENSE SITUATIONS!
REPLETE WITH THRILLING INCIDENTS!
TRUE TO LIFE!
You read this book with delight, and finish it with a sigh!
Now is the time to secure a copy!
Don't delay, but buy and read this masterpiece of fiction!
The book contains 310 solid pages of reading matter, bound in attractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, 25 cents.
* * * * *
THE SHADOW OF A CROSS.
BY
MRS. DORA NELSON
AND
F. C. HENDERSCHOTT.
"The sweetest American story ever written," wrote one critic in reviewing the story, which first appeared as a serial in a magazine of large circulation. A strong inquiry for the novel in book form developed, and we have just issued the book to meet this demand.
The story is wholly American in sentiment, and every chapter appeals to the reader's sympathies, as the whole book pulsates with pure and cherished ideals. The love theme is sweet and intensely interesting. Through the political fight, the victory and the defeat, the love thread is never lost sight of. The intense struggle in the heart of the heroine between her Church and her lover is of such deep human interest, that it holds the reader in ardent sympathy until the happy solution, when the reader smiles, wipes the moisture from the eyes, and breathes happily again.
While the narrative is intensely interesting, it is more; it instructs and educates. To read it is to feel improved and delighted. Don't miss this treat; it is one of the very best American stories of recent years.
The book is printed on best quality of laid book paper, contains nearly 200 pages, and is bound in paper covers with handsome illustration. It will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of price, 25 cents. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
LAUGH! YELL! SCREAM!
Read It! Read It! Read It!
A Bad
Boy's Diary
By "LITTLE GEORGIE,"
The Laughing Cyclone.
THE FUNNIEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN!
In this matchless volume of irresistible, rib-tickling fun, the Bad Boy, an incarnate but lovable imp of mischief, records his daily exploits, experiences, pranks and adventures, through all of which you follow him with an absorbing interest that never flags, stopping only when convulsions of laughter and aching sides force the mirth-swept body to take an involuntary respite from a feast of fun, stupendous and overwhelming.
In the pages of this excruciatingly funny narrative can be found the elixir of youth for all man and womankind. The magic of its pages compel the old to become young, the careworn gay, and carking trouble hides its gloomy head and flies away on the blithesome wings of uncontrollable laughter.
IT MAKES YOU A BOY AGAIN!
IT MAKES LIFE WORTH WHILE!
For old or young it is a tonic and sure cure for the blues. The BAD BOY'S DIARY is making the whole world scream with laughter. Get in line and laugh too. BUY IT TO-DAY! It contains 276 solid pages of reading matter, illustrated, is bound in lithographed paper covers, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price, 25 cents. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
The World's Finger
is the title of the most absorbing detective narrative ever written.
One would not surmise from the title that such was the fact; but the closing chapter of the book gives the clue to its meaning: "I swore to my father on his death-bed that The World's Finger should never point to a Davanant as amongst the list of known convicts, and that oath I will keep."
T. W. HANSHEW is the author, and a writer of more exciting and sensational detective stories cannot be found at the present day.
One reader writes: "I thought I would read a chapter or two of THE WORLD'S FINGER, to see what it was all about. I soon found out, and it was two o'clock in the morning before I lay it down, having read it to the end at one sitting. It certainly is a corker."
Bound in paper covers; price, 25 cents. Sent by mail to any address upon receipt of price. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
STOP! HALT! ATTENTION!
Read the most astounding and exciting love story of the age
ONLY A
GIRL'S LOVE
BY
CHARLES GARVICE.
IT
ENRAPTURES! ENTRANCES!
THRILLS! DELIGHTS!
In this intensely dramatic and thrilling love story, we watch with bated breath the unfolding of a high life drama of absorbing interest. Rank and wealth, pride and prejudice, vice and villainy, combine in a desperate and determined effort to break off a romantic and thrilling love match, the development, temporary rupture and final consummation of which, by the genius of the author, we are, with spell-bound interest, tense arteries and throbbing hearts privileged to witness. This desperate attempt to halt the course of true love and dam the well-springs of an ardent and romantic affection, will be watched by the reader with a boundless and untiring interest.
New Scenes! New Faces! New Features! New Thrills!
SECURE THIS SUPERB NOVEL
and learn for yourself the result of this astounding battle of true love against terrific odds.
FICTION LOVERS, NOVEL READERS, TAKE NOTICE!
Just What You Are Looking For!
A story that grips the heart and holds the reader spell-bound from start to finish!
A MENTAL FEAST, A LITERARY BANQUET!
You Want It! You Cannot Do Without It! Buy It To-day! Now!
The book contains 380 pages of solid reading matter, bound in attractive paper cover, printed in colors. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, 25 cents.
* * * * *
THRILLING! ABSORBING! DELIGHTFUL!
The Story Sensation of the Year!
A WOUNDED HEART
BY
CHARLES GARVICE,
Author of "The Ashes of Love," "A Woman's Soul," Etc.
It Grips! It Holds! It Thrills!
By the magic pen of the author we are carried through the seductive and intricate mazes of a thrilling and romantic life drama of unparalleled interest.
In beautiful England, sunny France, and distant Australia, we watch the movements of life-like, splendidly drawn flesh and blood characters, and follow their fortunes with a zealous devotion that never flags.
With breathless interest we witness the struggle for an ancestral home, which finally passes into the possession of the scion of a noble house, the rightful heir, Sir Herrick Powis, thanks to the sacrifices of the heroine, than whom no more entrancing and beautiful character exists in the whole range of modern fiction. The ending of the story is, of course, a happy one, but this is not achieved until the trusting heart of the heroine has been sorely wounded, and she has passed through trials and tribulations, which win for her the love and sympathy of the spell-bound reader.
REPLETE WITH THRILLING INCIDENTS!
Teeming With Heart Interest and Dramatic Action!
NEW! NOVEL! UNIQUE!
You Read this Book with Delight! You Lay It Down with a Sigh!
BUY IT! BUY IT! BUY IT! TO-DAY! NOW!
The book contains 400 pages of solid reading matter bound in attractive paper cover printed in colors. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of Price, 25 Cents.
* * * * *
100 STORIES
IN BLACK
BY BRIDGES SMITH.
Not in years, if ever, have we seen or read anything which approaches the stories in this book for real, true depiction of character of the Southern darkey of the present day. They are full of humor and entertainment, and absolutely true to life both as to the incidents related, and the language used. The latter is so true, in fact, that our compositor who set the type for the book, said that he had never before seen anything like the diction and spelling.
The author held for some years the position of City Clerk in the Mayor's Office of the City of Macon, Georgia, where opportunities were presented for full and complete observation of the people in the world of which he writes.
The stories originally appeared in the "Macon Daily Telegraph," but the demand for them in book form was so great that we have now issued them in permanent binding.
The book contains 320 pages with illustrations, and is bound in paper covers with attractive and appropriate cover design. Retail price, 25 cents. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price.
* * * * *
THIS IS IT! IT!! IT!!!
A WOMAN'S SOUL
By CHARLES GARVICE.
A Literary Sensation!
A Matchless Masterpiece!
The Big Noise of Fiction!
A Story that Grips the Heart!
A Story that Stirs the Soul!
Guided by a master hand we watch with bated breath the unfolding of a story of unparalleled interest. Ever the unexpected happens, surprise follows surprise, plot is succeeded by counterplot. Vice and virtue, honor and knavery, true love and duplicity, struggle desperately and incessantly for mastery until the mind is bewildered and the heart and soul are stirred to their very depths.
Swept irresistibly along the seductive and entrancing streams of romantic fiction, never for one instant is the reader's interest allowed to flag. When almost exhausted with the thrilling nature of the narrative, the end of this matchless story is reached, and it is then with a sigh of regret the reader bids adieu to characters that have woven themselves around his heart, and have become part and parcel of his very life.
UNPARALLELED AND UNSURPASSED!
New, Novel, and Unconventional!
AWAY FROM THE BEATEN TRACK OF FICTION!
Classy! Unique! The Story of the Century!
READ IT! BUY IT! JUDGE FOR YOURSELF!
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
A WOMAN'S SOUL contains 326 pages of solid reading matter, printed in large type on good quality of paper, bound in paper covers with attractive cover design in two colors. For sale by newsdealers and booksellers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents.
* * * * *
The Most Popular Book In
America To-Day
—IS—
"ST. ELMO,"
—BY—
AUGUSTA J. EVANS,
The history of this Book is remarkable. It was first published nearly 45 years ago, and met with a fair measure of success; but it was not until within the last three years that it achieved special prominence, since which time over half a million copies have been sold.
It is hard to account for this wonderful jump into popularity at the present time, except for the fact that the story is one of real merit, and is now doubly recognized as such. It is a mark of signal distinction for the author, to think that she wrote a story so much ahead of the times.
The story is founded upon the never-old theme of love—the pure love of a good woman—and shows the wonders that can be accomplished with and through it, even to the extent of the reclamation of an extremely talented and extraordinary man having a predilection for evil and sin.
No story written in years has aroused the discussion that this book has.
Can you afford to miss it?
Do you want to keep abreast of the times, and read what other people are talking about? Then buy and read "ST. ELMO."
The book contains 440 pages, bound in paper cover. For sale by booksellers and newsdealers everywhere, or sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price, 25 CENTS.
* * * * *
DON'T MISS IT! DON'T MISS IT!! DON'T MISS IT!!!
FATE
By CHARLES GARVICE,
Regal Ruler of the Resplendent
Realm of Romance.
Tremendous in its Interest.
Weird and Witchingly Fascinating in Plot and Action.
Tense In Its Astounding Situations.
It Grips! Amazes!! Thrills!!!
IT TUGS AT THE HEART STRINGS AND HOLDS ONE
CAPTIVE FROM COVER TO COVER.
In this astounding story of unparalleled interest, we see the sinister figure of FATE stalk deviously but relentlessly through the mystifying mazes of love, devotion, intrigue, cunning, cruelty and crime, until a conscienceless fiend, in human shape, lies prostrate in death, overwhelmed by the ruthless forces of his own creating.
Right, truth, justice and love dashed to earth by desperate villainy and inconceivable cunning, finally triumph in the face of crimes that crush, and difficulties that overwhelm.
The reader breathes a sigh of relief that hero and heroine, who have wound themselves about his heart, are once more happily united, and that
LOVE, THE CONQUEROR, WINS AT LAST.
This story of love, passion, mystery and revenge, makes the sluggish blood course wildly through every artery of the spell-bound frame.
It awakens every emotion of the human heart, and sweeps the vibrant chords of sympathy and compassion. The book you need. The book you must have. To-day! Now!! Here!!!
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
"Fate" contains over 450 pages of solid reading matter, printed in large type on good quality of paper, bound in paper covers with attractive cover design in two colors. It is for sale by newsdealers and booksellers everywhere, or will be sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of 25 cents.
* * * * *
VAIL'S DREAM BOOK
AND
COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER
By J. R. & A. M. VAIL
You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them—do you understand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what it means, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correct interpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book is also the most complete fortune teller on the market.
We give herewith a partial list of the contents:
Dreams and Their Interpretations.
Palmistry, or Telling Fortunes by the Lines of the Hand.
Fortune Telling by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup.
How to Read Your Fortunes by the White of an Egg.
How to Determine the Lucky and Unlucky Days of any Month in the Year.
How to Ascertain Whether You will Marry Soon.
Fortune Telling by Cards, including the Italian Method.
A Chapter on Somniloquism and Spiritual Mediums.
The book contains 128 pages, size 7-5/8 x 5-1/4 set in new, large, clear type, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents. For sale where you bought this book.
* * * * *
LOVE—COURTSHIP—MARRIAGE.
This is the newest and most up-to-date book on these subjects. It explains how girls may become happy wives, bachelors become happy husbands. It includes a treatise on "The Etiquette of Marriage," describing invitations, the dresses, the ceremony, and the proper behavior of bride and groom.
In addition to the above there is a most brilliant editorial entitled "The Real Divorce Question"; also an article giving statistics, dates, etc., entitled "Alarming Growth of the Divorce Evil," by the well-known writer, Rev. Thomas B. Gregory; and, lastly, an editorial entitled "Woman's Dignity," which should be read by every woman in the country. If the young people of this country would read and study these serious subjects before marriage the now-popular divorce would soon become a thing of the past. Remember, from some one little thing in this book you may be spared a life of misery. 125 pages, paper bound; postpaid, 25 cents.
LOVE AND COURTSHIP CARDS.
Sparking, Courting, and Love-making made easy with these cards. They are arranged with such apt conversation that you will be able to find out whether a girl loves you or not without her even thinking that you are doing so. These cards may be used by two persons only, or they can be used to entertain an evening party of young people. There are sixty cards in all, and each answer will respond differently to every one of the questions. Sent by mail, postpaid, for 30 cents.
Either of the above will be sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price by J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 Rose Street, New York.
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JUST OUT
TEMPTATIONS OF THE STAGE.
There is probably no other book of this kind on the market that tells so much truth from Stage Life as does this one. If there is, we do not know of it. We herewith give the contents and leave you to draw your own conclusions:—
Ever in the Limelight.
"Propinquity" versus "Association."
Flattery.
See How it Sparkles.
Gambling—Drugs.
Dangerous Pitfalls on the Road to Success.
My Narrow Escape. By Della Fox.
Girls in Burlesque Companies. By May Howard.
A Nation at Her Feet. By Pauline Markham.
Jane Hading's Career. By Herself.
A Woman's Blighted Life. By Jennie O'Neill Potter.
Cigarette Smoking.
A Unique Sensation. By Nina Farrington.
Yvette Guilbert's Songs.
A Tragic End.
Triumphs and Failures. By Isabelle Urquhart.
A Mad Career.
Likes to Wear Tights. By Jessie Bartlett Davis.
Jolly Jennie Joyce.
Thorns of Stage Life. By Maud Gregory.
The Stage is Not Degenerating. By Eva Mudge.
Ethics of Stage Morality. By Jessie Olivier.
Stage-Door Johnnies.
The Pace That Kills.
Cure For the Stage Struck.
Stage Love Letters. Mlle. Fougere.
Stock Companies.
From Tights to Tea Parties.
In Other Walks.
The above book contains 128 pages, bound in paper cover handsomely illustrated in colors, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P.O. Box 767, 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
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OLD WITCHES' DREAM BOOK
AND
COMPLETE FORTUNE TELLER.
You dream like everyone else does, but can you interpret them—do you understand what your dream portends? If you wish to know what it means, you should buy this book, which contains the full and correct interpretation of all dreams and their lucky numbers. This book is also the most complete fortune teller on the market.
We give herewith a partial list of the contents:
Dreams and Their Interpretations.
Palmistry, or Telling Fortunes by the Lines of the Hand.
Fortune Telling by the Grounds in a Tea or Coffee Cup.
How to Read Your Fortune by the White of an Egg.
How to Determine the Lucky and Unlucky Days of any Month in the Year.
How to Ascertain Whether You will Marry Soon.
Fortune Telling by Cards, Including the Italian Method.
The book contains 128 pages, set in new, large, clear type, and will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address upon receipt of 25 cents in U. S. stamps or postal money order. Address all orders to
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
P. O. Box 767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.
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