I need not say more. My life it was ended. It wasn't worth living;—I am made in that fashion. So I came to the woods. Where else when in trouble Can man go and find what he needs, consolation? Go you down to her house, in the city, John Norton, To the house where she lives, and give her this message. Word for word let her hear it,—say where you left me. There's gold in that box to pay your expenses. Word for word as I tell you, nor say a word further." Then he bade us good-by, and marched away bravely, As a man on a trail that is somewhat uncertain. And under the pines on the bank of the rapids We buried the man whom the woods called—Jack Whitcomb, And the picture he loved we placed on his bosom.

* * * * *

I went down to her house in the city. A cabin Of stone, brown as tamarack bark, trimmed with olive. It was high as a pine that stands on a mountain. The door was as wide as the mouth of a cavern. At the door stood a man rigged up like a soldier; His face was as solemn as judgment to sinners; He looked at me some, and I looked him all over, Then he suddenly bowed like a half-breed with manners, And told me to enter, and he would call Madame. The room was as large as a town house where settlers Hold meetings to vote themselves office and wages. The walls were like caves in far Arizona. All covered with pictures of houses and battles; Of ships blown onward by gales in mid-ocean; Of children with wings, pretty queer-looking creatures; Of men and of women, and some were half-naked. But the floor was of oak, which gleamed like a polish; And with mats thick as moss, and with skins it was covered, So I felt quite at home, as there I stood looking, And noting the size and signs of the cabin.

Then, all of a sudden, there came a soft rustle, Like the rustle of leaves when the wind blows in autumn. And down the wide stairway across the great hall, To the door of the room in which I was standing, Stately and swift, came a woman and entered. Tall as the tallest. Made firmly, knit firmly Both in form and in limb, but full and well rounded; Dark of eye, dark of face, with hair like a raven, Like the girls of Nevada, where live the old races, Whose blood is as fire, and whose skin is of olive, Whose mouths are as sweet as a fig when it ripens. Arms bare to the shoulders. Neck and bosom uncovered. Her gown of white satin gleamed and flowed downward And round her in folds of soft, creamy whiteness. No ring on her hand, nor in ear. Not a circle Of gold round her throat. One armlet of silver, And one at her wrist loosely clasped, small and slender. So she entered and stood, and looked me all over.

Then slowly she spake. "Your name, sir, and business?" "Madame," I said, "in the woods men call me John Norton; John Norton, the Trapper." Then I stopped mighty sudden, For her face it grew white to the lips and the chin, And she swayed as a tree to the stroke of the chopper When he sinks his axe in to the heart and it totters And quivers. So I stopped, stopped quick and stood looking.

Then her dark face it lighted, and she said, speaking quickly: "John Norton, I know you. I know you are honest. You live in the woods. You are good. I can trust you. All men, I have heard, come to you in their trouble. Have you seen in the North, have you met in the woods, Has there come to your cabin a man, tall as you, Brave as you and as tender? A man like to this?" And out of her gown, from the folds on her bosom, She lifted a locket of pearl-colored velvet, Touched a spring, and I saw, as the lid of it opened, The face of the man I and Henry had buried!

"John Norton," she cried, and her eyes burned like fever. Her hand shook and trembled, her face was as marble, "Have you seen in the woods man like to this picture? Speak quick and speak true as to woman in trouble. For I did him great wrong, I thought he held lightly My fair name and fame; held lightly my honor. I thought he meant evil, and my heart, filled with anger, Dismissed him in scorn; but I learned, I learned later, He was true, and spake truth and loved me as heaven."

Then I stood and I looked and held my face steady, So it gave her no sign of what I was thinking. I saw she was honest, and I wished then to spare her, But my word it was pledged, pledged to him in dying, To stand as I stood, face to face with this woman, In her house, in that room, and give her his message. Beside, not to know is far worse than the knowing At times. So I rallied and told her the message, Word for word, as he charged, the night he lay dying In his house on the bank above the swift rapids.

"Madame," I said, "I have seen man like that picture, Face and form. He was brave as you say. He was tender. He was true unto death, and he loved you as heaven. And these are the words that he sent you in dying. I, a man of the woods, bring you this as last message, From one who now sleeps on the bank of the rapids Of that northern river which pours its brown water To the Lake of St. John from far Mistassinni. 'Tell her, John Norton, I loved her. Loved her in living, With a love that was true, and with same love in dying. Loved her like a man, like a saint, like a sinner, For time now and time ever. That the one picture She gave me I kept;—living, dying, and after. That it lies on the breast of the man that you buried; On the breast of the man who living did love her, And that there it will lie until it shall crumble, With heart underneath it, to dust. So tell her. And in proof that I tell her the truth, and did tell it The night when we met, and I told her I loved her, Give her this, the watch that I wore on the evening We met, and the evening we parted. Let her open And see. With her eyes let her see that I loved her. So say and no more."

Thus I spake. Word for word as he told me I spake. I gave her the watch, and I said no word further. I had done as I pledged, I had said as he charged me, So I stopped and stood waiting for word of dismissal. But she said not a word, nor made she a sign. The watch she took from me, touched the spring and it opened, And there, 'twixt the glass and the gold, withered and faded, Lay a leaf of Red Rose. One leaf, and—no more.

For a moment she stood; stood, and gazed at the leaf, Her face grew as white as her gown, and she trembled And shook like a white swan in dying, then she cried, "My God, I have killed him, my lover!" And down on the floor, on the skins at her feet She dropped as one stricken by bullet or lightning.

It was only last month that we two, in trailing, Trailed a hundred good miles across to the rapids. For we wanted to see before going northward If evil had come to the grave of our comrade. But the grave lay untouched, by beast or by human. The grass on the mound was well rooted and growthful. At the foot of the grave the rose-tree I planted Was as high as my head. And the leaves of the roses Lay as thick as red snow-flakes on the mound that was under. And we knew that on breast, as he slept, was her picture. So we felt, as we gazed, it was well with Jack Whitcomb.

But often at night, when alone in my cabin, I hear the low murmur of far northern rapids. And often I see the great house and its splendor, And wonder if death has helped the proud woman To lay off her grief and escape from her sorrow. And blazed a line through the dark Valley of Shadow, And brought her in peace to the edge of the clearing, Where I know she would see Jack Whitcomb stand, waiting.

So I say it again, and I say it with knowledge, That the woods have their sorrows as well as the cities. And he knows but little of this great northern forest Who thinks there's naught in it save trees, lakes, and mountains.



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Standard and Popular Books

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* * *In order to insure the correct delivery of the actual works, or particular Editions specified in this List, the name of the Publishers should be distinctly given. These books can be had from any local bookseller; but should any difficulty be experienced in procuring them, Messrs. DeWolfe, Fiske & Co., will be happy to forward them direct, postage paid, on receipt of cheque, stamps or Postal order for the amount, with a copy of their complete catalogue.

* * * * *

NEW EDITIONS OF W. H. H. MURRAY'S FAMOUS BOOKS.

DAYLIGHT LAND. The experiences, incidents, and adventures, humorous and otherwise, which befell Judge John Doe, Tourist, of San Francisco; Mr. Cephas Pepperell, Capitalist, of Boston; Colonel Goffe, the man from New Hampshire, and divers others, in their Parlor-Car Excursion over Prairie and Mountain; as recorded and set forth by W. H. H. MURRAY. Superbly illustrated with 150 cuts in various colors by the best artists. 8vo, 350 pages. Unique paper covers, $2.50; cloth, $3.50; cloth, extra gilt, $4.00.

The New York Herald; says,

Impossible to find a handsomer book on outdoor life than this. The author's peculiar faculty for describing days in the woods and rambles with good company has long been known. "Daylight Land" is longer than the book in which the same author made the Adirondacks seem some other place to men whose eyes were not as wide-open as his own, and the style is even breezier, if that is possible. Seldom does a book appear which is so entirely creditable to author, artist, and publisher.

HOW DEACON TUBMAN AND PARSON WHITNEY KEPT NEW YEAR'S, and Other Stories. By W. H. H. MURRAY, author of "Adirondack Tales," etc. 12mo. Illustrated. $1.25.

Deacon Tubman, a jolly, fat, good-natured man, is presented with a woollen night-cap on New Year's morning by his housekeeper, "a typical spinster not overburdened with fat." This so rejoices the Deacon that he is possessed to make others happy, goes to call upon his pastor, and makes him leave his books and spend the day skating, sleighing, and driving with his parishioners.

* * * * *

STORY THE KEG TOLD ME, AND THE STORY OF THE MAN WHO DIDN'T KNOW MUCH. By W. H. H. MURRAY, author of "Daylight Land," "Adirondack Adventures," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

"Two admirable stories by W. H. H. Murray, in both which appears John Norton, the trapper, a character that promises to become as much of a favorite as is the hero of the Leather Stocking novels. These stories have a bracing outdoor freshness and a delightfully crisp realism: are vigorous in tone, and strong and picturesque in the relation. Taken altogether, they may be pronounced in the most artistic of Mr. Murray's excursions into the realms of fiction, and fascinating generally." —Saturday Evening Gazette.

DEACONS. By W. H. H. MURRAY. 16mo. Paper, 50 cts. Cloth, 75 cts.

"Mr. Murray is an expert in the art of character drawing; he can manipulate humor and pathos with equal facility. No one will gainsay their freshness and individuality."—N. Y. Commercial Advertiser.

ADIRONDACK ADVENTURES. "In the Wilderness; or, Camp Life in the Adirondacks." By W. H. H. MURRAY, 12mo. Illustrated. Paper, 50 cts. Cloth, $1.25.

"In the 'Adventures in the Wilderness' W. H. H. Murray strikes the happy hunting ground, which long ago earned for him the popular title, 'Adirondack Murray,' and here, as in his other books, he fairly revels in stirring incident, lively and faithful conception of character, and the powerful but delightful description of natural scenery which have already given his work an enviable and lasting place in American literature."—Nashville American.

THE BUSTED EX-TEXAN, AND OTHER STORIES. By W. H. H. MURRAY. With photogravure portrait of Mr. Murray, and eight full-page illustrations by Thos. Worth. Square 12mo. Cloth, $1.00.

* * * * *

CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES, AND OTHER ESSAYS CONCERNING AMERICA. By MATTHEW ARNOLD. 16mo. Unique paper boards, 50 cts. Cloth, uncut, $1.25. The cloth binding matches the uniform edition of his collected works. Comprises the critical essays, which created so much discussion, namely, "General Grant, an Estimate," "A Word About America," "A Word More About America," and "Civilization in the United States." The collection gathers in the great critic's last contribution to literature.

* * * * *

BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY.

THE AGE OF CHIVALRY; Or Legends of King Arthur. "Stories of the Round Table," "The Crusades," "Robin Hood," etc. By THOMAS BULFINCH. A new and enlarged edition. Revised by Rev. E. E. HALE. Large 12mo. Illustrated. $2.50.

In "The Age of Fable," Mr. Bulfinch endeavored to impart the pleasure of classical learning to the English reader by presenting the stories of Pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. In this volume the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable"—the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern Europe.

THE AGE OF FABLE; Or, Beauties of Mythology. By THOMAS BULFINCH. A new and enlarged edition, containing over 100 illustrations from ancient paintings and statuary. Revised by Rev. E. E. HALE. Large 12mo. $2.50.

Young readers will find this book a source of entertainment; those more advanced, a useful companion in their reading; those who travel and visit museums and galleries of art, an interpreter of paintings and sculptures.

LEGENDS OF CHARLEMAGNE; Or, Romance of the Middle Ages. Stories of Paladin and Saracen. By THOMAS BULFINCH. 12mo. Illustrated. $2.50.

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PROF. CLARK MURRAY'S WORKS.

SOLOMON MAIMON: An Autobiography. Translated from the German, with Additions and Notes, by Prof. J. CLARK MURRAY. Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 307 pages. $2.00.

The London Spectator says: "Dr. Clark Murray has had the rare good fortune of first presenting this singularly vivid book in an English translation as pure and lively as if it were an original, and an original by a classic English writer."

George Eliot, in "Daniel Deronda," mentions it as "that wonderful bit of autobiography—the life of the Polish Jew, Solomon Maimon:" and Milman, in his "History of the Jews," refers to it as a curious and rare book.

HANDBOOK OF PSYCHOLOGY. By Prof. J. CLARK MURRAY, LL.D., Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy, M'Gill College, Montreal. Cr. 8vo. 2d edition, enlarged and improved. $1.75.

Clearly and simply written, with illustrations so well chosen that the dullest student can scarcely fail to take an interest in the subject.

Adopted for use in colleges in Scotland, England, Canada, and the United States.

Prof. Murray's good fortune in bringing to light the "Maimon Memoirs," together with the increasing popularity of his "Handbook of Psychology," has attracted the attention of the intellectual world, giving him a position with the leaders of thought of the present age. His writings are at once original and suggestive.

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Standard and Popular Books.

THE POPULAR WORKS OF SALLY PRATT MCLEAN.

CAPE COD FOLKS. A Novel. Twenty-third edition. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 cents.

TOWHEAD: THE STORY OF A GIRL. Fifth Thousand. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 cents.

Since the production of Miss McLean's first effort "Cape Cod Folks," she has steadily advanced in intellectual development; the same genius is at work in a larger and more artistic manner, until she has at length produced what must be truly considered as her masterpiece, and which we have the pleasure to announce for immediate publication.

SOME OTHER FOLKS. A Book in Four Stories. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50 cents.

These books are so well known that further comment seems superfluous. Suffice it to say that the entire press of the country has unanimously spoken of them in terms of high praise, dwelling not only on their delicious humor, their literary workmanship, their genuine pathos, and their real power and eloquence, but what has been described as their deep, true humanness, and the inimitable manner in which the mirror is held up to nature that all may see reflected therein some familiar trait, some description or character which is at once recognized.

LASTCHANCE JUNCTION: HUMAN NATURE IN THE FAR WEST. A Novel. By SALLY PRATT MCLEAN. 1 vol. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25.

"Terse, incisive descriptions of men and scenery, drawn with so vivid a pen that one can see the characters and their setting, delicious bits of humor, passages full of infinite pathos, make this book absolutely hold the reader from the title to the last word, and as, when finished, one sighs for the pity of it, the feeling rises that such a work has not been written in vain, and will have its place among those which tend to elevate our race."

MISS FRANCES MERLEY. A Novel. By JOHN ELLIOT CURRAN. 420 pages. Square 16mo. Paper covers, 50 cents. Cloth, $1.00.

The first important work of an author familiar to American readers by his remarkable sketches to Scribner's and other magazines.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A NEW ENGLAND FARM HOUSE: A Romance of the Cape Cod Lands. By N. H. CHAMBERLAIN. 380 pages. Square 16mo. Paper covers, 50 cents. Cloth, $1.00.

A novel of singular power and beauty, great originality and rugged force. Born and bred on Cape Cod, the author, at the winter firesides of country people, very conservative of ancient English customs now gone, heard curious talk of kings, Puritan ministers, the war and precedent struggle of our Revolution, and touched a race of men and women now passed away. He also heard, chiefly from ancient women, the traditions of ghosts, witches and Indians, as they are preserved, and to a degree believed, by honest Christian folk, in the very teeth of modern progress.

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