AUNT CHARLOTTE ATTENDS A CELEBRATION. “You have not yet told me why you returned so suddenly to England,” said ’Linda. She was seated on a low stool beside Miss Charlotte “Well, there were several reasons, my child,” she said. “I’ve been growing older within these past few months—older not only in years but in my outlook on life, I think. You’ll laugh, perhaps, when I say it, but I’ve gone through many, many years of my life in a sort of wild hurry, striving to get out of it—out of every hour of it—the most that could be squeezed. If I had my time to come again, I think—no, I am quite sure—that I should linger a little by the roadside, as it were; perhaps in that way I should see more of it, and should understand more clearly the meaning of it all. The nearer we come to the finish of it, child, the more clearly do we understand that it is not for us to judge; not for us, in our petty fashion, to say what is right or what is wrong. Only at the end, when we go to Him who sent us here, carrying in our hands the poor little fruits of what we have done, can we know how sadly we have blundered, how much there is that we might have done better. Look at me, ’Linda; I started without eyes, but even that should not have blinded me to all the better things I passed by. And so, before it is too late, I want to do one little thing that I have left undone; I want in all humility to make some reparation to you.” “Reparation? To me?” “Yes, to you. There was a time—a long while ago—when I thought hardly of you, because I thought you had deceived some one I loved. Well, perhaps you judged him better than I did; perhaps, after all, I was the poor fool who was deceived, and you—out of that love which teaches a woman more than anything else can do—found the better man, after all. You remember I came to you, pitying your loneliness, when he died, and I have been more than recompensed by your love and devotion to me since.” “You have been very, very good to me,” said ’Linda in a low voice. “But for you I might have been left destitute.” “There, there, we won’t talk of that,” said the old woman. “You know, since we have been abroad our good old friend the captain has written to us more than once. He mentioned in one of his letters to me about the statue which had been erected to your husband. I don’t want to trouble you with sad memories, but it has occurred to me that you might like to go again to the place where he was born and to the place where they love and remember him so well. Help me to be unselfish, child, for I fear that I have selfishly tried to thrust out of your memory any thought of him. I know you loved him, and he was, perhaps, a better man than I judged him to be. Will you forgive me if I have misjudged him?” “Indeed, I have nothing to forgive,” replied ’Linda. “Ah, you say that out of your good heart; but I reproach myself very much that I have not been gentler with you—that I have not considered your grief a little more. Now, listen to me. The captain told me in his letter—you remember you read it to me—he told me that on the anniversary of Brian Carlaw’s birth there was going to be a great celebration; that the people of the little town were going to put wreaths and flowers at the foot of the statue; that many celebrated people who had known and loved and admired him in life would be there to show their respect for his memory. And that has brought me back to England.” ’Linda sat quite still, listening. Before her mental vision passed a picture of a man lying dying at the foot of that statue; a man who had willingly and cheerfully given all he possessed in life for her; a man who had thought that God was good because the woman who had cast him aside kissed his lips at the last. “And so, my dear child,” went on the unconscious old woman, “I have made up my mind that we will go down there at the time of this celebration, and you shall take “I—I think—I fear the journey would be too much for you,” said ’Linda, striving to steady her voice. “Indeed, you must not do this for my sake.” “Nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Carlaw. “I’ve set my heart upon it, and I shall be bitterly disappointed if you don’t carry out my wishes. You must be proud of him, and it will take the keenest edge off your sorrow and make you think kindly of him if you go. I am going to have my own way in this, I can assure you. We’ll go down together to the grave of the man you love, for I suppose they buried him there?” ’Linda did not answer. A sudden new thought had come into her head—a thought that brought a quick flush to her cheek and filled her eyes with tears. “It shall be as you wish,” she said after a pause. The celebration of which the captain had written—the anniversary of Brian Carlaw’s birth—was three days later; the two women went down late on the day before, and secured rooms at the inn at which Miss Charlotte Carlaw had previously stopped. Early the following morning, after they had breakfasted, they set out on foot for the place; for Miss Carlaw had said: “We’ll have no ostentation about the matter; and we’ll get there early, before the other people arrive.” Their walk was a short one; the old blind woman, leaning on ’Linda’s arm, was led through a gate and then found her feet walking softly on grass; on the sweet summer air the scent of roses was borne pleasantly. “A sweet and pleasant place,” she murmured as they walked on. They went some little distance farther and then ’Linda stopped. “This is the place,” she whispered. “The man I loved sleeps here.” The arm on which “How very quiet it all is!” said Miss Carlaw in a hushed voice. “I can only hear the twitter of the birds and the rustle of the wind in the leaves. The people, where are the people? Has no one arrived yet? Please remember that I am blind, dear; you must be eyes for me?” “No; the people are not here; we are quite alone,” said ’Linda. “But the statue; describe the statue to me.” “It is a statue that only I can see,” said ’Linda slowly; “ever since he died I have seen it towering to the very heavens, putting me to shame. It is the statue of a great and good man—a man so splendid in one purpose and one hope and one faith that all other men sink into nothingness beside him. And in the eyes—oh, can I ever forget them?—in the eyes there is a light of such love, such goodness, such forgiveness, that they burn forever into my soul, until I try to close my own to shut the light of them out.” Miss Carlaw, wondering and trembling, made a sudden step forward and stumbled over something; she recoiled and caught ’Linda’s arm. “What place is this?” she whispered. “That was a grave I stumbled upon. Where have you brought me?” “To the grave of the man I loved,” said ’Linda, weeping. “There is no statue here—not even a headstone; no crowds come here to worship. The only wreath upon the grave is that of a few humble flowers twined by the hands of an old soldier who loved him. This is the grave of the man I loved—the grave of Comethup Willis.” Miss Charlotte Carlaw began to tremble and her hands went up falteringly to her lips. “What is this? What do you mean? Why have you brought me here?” “To right a wrong—to tell an old, sad story that should have been told long since. Sit down here; it is a quiet place, wherein he wandered as a little child; he sleeps soundly now beside those who loved him. You “No, no; tell me,” faltered the old woman. “For years and years he was robbed by the man I thought the best on earth, and by that man’s father. When he was but a boy, travelling with you on the Continent, those two—father and son—were following him from place to place, preying upon him—living upon him. They had nothing of their own. The very money that enabled Brian to fly with me and to marry me—oh, the bitter, bitter shame of it!—was wrung from the man who loved me. I had nothing, and Brian earned scarcely anything at all; I lived in a fool’s paradise. The very dress I wore, the food I ate, everything was bought with his money. You have told me how he borrowed a large sum of money, and how you discarded him for it. That money was borrowed when extravagance had taken all that Comethup had and when he feared I might come to want. I have tried to tell you this again and again, although I only knew it from your lips a few weeks ago; they kept me in ignorance until the very last of what the true facts of the case were.” There was a long pause. Miss Charlotte Carlaw was rocking herself to and fro and moaning fitfully. “Is this—is this true?” she asked at last in a whisper. “Yes, it’s all true,” said ’Linda. “And is he dead? Can I never—never take him in my arms again; never whisper to him how sorry I am? Tell me, how did he die?” “He died quite—quite suddenly. He was killed. He was mistaken for—for some one else by a man who was mad, a man who mercifully forgot all about it afterward and whose crime was never discovered. But you will like to know that he died in my arms, that I was able to tell him at the last what had been in my heart so long—that I loved him. I was able to kiss him—and he died in my arms, smiling, and saying that God was very good. I The old woman was kneeling beside the grave. “Oh, my boy, my boy,” she whispered; “dear Prince Charming, if you can hear me now, forgive an old woman who loved you with all her heart and soul, and who did not understand until it was too late.—And, oh, most merciful God,” she added, raising her face toward the sky, “I thank thee that Prince Charming lives again—that thou hast given him back to me!” All was quiet and restful about them; the birds twittered softly among the branches, and the scent of the roses floated to them from the garden of the little cottage against the wall of the church—the roses among which poor Comethup had wandered and dreamed his dreams as a little child. THE END. APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. PUBLISHED SEMIMONTHLY. 1. The Steel Hammer. By L. Ulbach. 2. Eve. By S. Baring-Gould. 3. For Fifteen Years. By L. Ulbach. 4. A Counsel of Perfection. By L. Malet. 5. The Deemster. By H. Caine. 5½. The Bondman. By H. Caine. 6. A Virginia Inheritance. By E. 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Its brilliant sayings and clever epigrams give it a finish and polish which are even more effective than the setting itself. What is more, Mr. Benson sees with a great deal of heart the tragedy of human experience and writes of it feelingly.”—Boston Herald. Dodo. A Detail of the Day. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. “‘Dodo’ is a delightfully witty sketch of the ‘smart’ people of society.... The writer is a true artist.”—London Spectator. The Rubicon. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. “The anticipations which must have been formed by all readers of ‘Dodo’ will in no wise be disappointed by ‘The Rubicon.’ The new work is well written, stimulating, unconventional, and, in a word, characteristic. Intellectual force is never absent, and the keen observation and knowledge of character, of which there is abundant evidence, are aided by real literary power.”—Birmingham Post. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. “A BOOK THAT WILL LIVE.” DAVID HARUM. A Story of American Life. By Edward Noyes Westcott. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “Mr. Westcott has done for central New York what Mr. Cable, Mr. Page, and Mr. Harris have done for different parts of the South, and what Miss Jewett and Miss Wilkins are doing for New England, and Mr. Hamlin Garland for the West.... ‘David Harum’ is a masterly delineation of an American type.... Here is life with all its joys and sorrows.... David Harum lives in these pages as he will live in the mind of the reader.... He deserves to be known by all good Americans; he is one of them in boundless energy, in large-heartedness, in shrewdness, and in humor.”—The Critic. “Thoroughly a pure, original, and fresh American type. David Harum is a character whose qualities of mind and heart, eccentricities, and dry humor will win for his creator notable distinction. Buoyancy, life, and cheerfulness are dominant notes. In its vividness and force the story is a strong, fresh picture of American life. Original and true, it is worth the same distinction which is accorded the genre pictures of peculiar types and places sketched by Mr. George W. Cable, Mr. Joel Chandler Harris, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page, Miss Wilkins, Miss Jewett, Mr. Garland, Miss French, Miss Murfree, Mr. Gilbert Parker, Mr. Owen Wister, and Bret Harte.... A pretty love story also adds to the attractiveness of the book, that will be appreciated at once by every one who enjoys real humor, strong character, true pictures of life, and work that is ‘racy of the soil.’”—Boston Herald. “Mr. Westcott has created a new and interesting type.... The character sketching and building, so far as David Harum is concerned, is well-nigh perfect. The book is wonderfully bright, readable, and graphic.”—New York Times. “The main character ought to become familiar to thousands of readers, and will probably take his place in time beside Joel Chandler Harris’s and Thomas Nelson Page’s and Miss Wilkins’s creations.”—Chicago Times-Herald. “We give Edward Noyes Westcott his true place in American letters—placing him as a humorist next to Mark Twain, as a master of dialect above Lowell, as a descriptive writer equal to Bret Harte, and, on the whole, as a novelist on a par with the best of those who live and have their being in the heart of hearts of American readers. If the author is dead—lamentable fact—his book will live.”—Philadelphia Item. “True, strong, and thoroughly alive, with a humor like that of Abraham Lincoln and a nature as sweet at the core. The spirit of the book is genial and wholesome, and the love story is in keeping with it.... The book adds one more to the interesting list of native fiction destined to live, portraying certain localities and types of American life and manners.”—Boston Literary World. “A notable contribution to those sectional studies of American life by which our literature has been so greatly enriched in the past generation.... A work of unusual merit.”—Philadelphia Press. “One of the few distinct and living types in the American gallery.”—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. “The quaint character of ‘David Harum’ proves to be an inexhaustible source of amusement.”—Chicago Evening Post. “It would be hard to say wherein the author could have bettered the portrait he sets before us.”—Providence Journal. “Full of wit and sweetness.”—Baltimore Herald. “Merits the heartiest and most unequivocal praise.... It is a pleasure to call the reader’s attention to this strong and most original novel, a novel that is a decided and most enduring addition to American literature.”—Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. BOOKS BY GRAHAM TRAVERS. WINDYHAUGH. A Novel. By Graham Travers, author of “Mona Maclean, Medical Student,” “Fellow Travellers,” etc. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. “‘Windyhaugh’ shows an infinitely more mature skill and more subtle humor than ‘Mona Maclean’ and a profounder insight into life. The psychology of Dr. Todd’s remarkable book is all of the right kind; and there is not in English fiction a more careful and penetrating analysis of the evolution of a woman’s mind than is given in Wilhelmina Galbraith; but ‘Windyhaugh’ is not a book in which there is only one ‘star’ and a crowd of ‘supers.’ Every character is limned with a conscientious care that bespeaks the true artist, and the analytical interest of the novel is rigorously kept in its proper place and is only one element in a delightful story. It is a supremely interesting and wholesome book, and in an age when excellence of technique has reached a remarkable level, ‘Windyhaugh’ compels admiration for its brilliancy of style. Dr. Todd paints on a large canvas, but she has a true sense of proportion.”—Blackwood’s Magazine. “For truth to life, for adherence to a clear line of action, for arrival at the point toward which it has aimed from the first, such a book as ‘Windyhaugh’ must be judged remarkable. There is vigor and brilliancy. It is a book that must be read from the beginning to the end and that it is a satisfaction to have read.”—Boston Journal. “Its easy style, its natural characters, and its general tone of earnestness assure its author a high rank among contemporary novelists.”—Chicago Tribune. “We can cordially eulogize the splendid vitality of the work, its brilliancy, its pathos, its polished and crystalline style, and its remarkable character-painting.”—New York Home Journal. MONA MACLEAN, Medical Student. 12mo, paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. “A high-bred comedy.”—New York Times. “‘Mona Maclean’ is a bright, healthful, winning story.”—New York Mail and Express. “Mona is a very attractive person, and her story is decidedly well told.”—San Francisco Argonaut. “A pleasure in store for you if you have not read this volume. The author has given us a thoroughly natural series of events, and drawn her characters like an artist. It is the story of a woman’s struggles with her own soul. She is a woman of resource, a strong woman, and her career is interesting from beginning to end.”—New York Herald. FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 12mo, paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. “The stories are well told; the literary style is above the average, and the character drawing is to be particularly praised.... Altogether, the little book is a model of its kind, and its reading will give pleasure to people of taste.”—Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. “‘Fellow Travellers’ is a collection of very brightly written tales, all dealing, as the title implies, with the mutual relations of people thrown together casually while traveling.”—London Saturday Review. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. BOOKS BY FRANK T. BULLEN. The Log of a Sea-Waif. Being Recollections of the First Four Years of my Sea Life. Illustrated. Uniform Edition. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. The brilliant author of “The Cruise of the Cachalot” and “Idylls of the Sea” presents in this new work the continuous story of the actual experiences of his first four years at sea. In graphic and picturesque phrases he has sketched the events of voyages to the West Indies, to Bombay and the Coromandel coast, to Melbourne and Rangoon. Nothing could be of more absorbing interest than this wonderfully vivid account of foks’l humanity, and the adventures and strange sights and experiences attendant upon deep-sea voyages. It is easy to see in this book an English companion to our own “Two Years before the Mast.” Idylls of the Sea. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. “The ‘deep-sea wonder and mystery’ which Kipling found in Frank T. Bullen’s ‘Cruise of the Cachalot’ is appreciable again in this literary mate’s new book, ‘Idylls of the Sea.’ We feel ourselves tossed with him at the mercy of the weltering elements,” etc.—Philadelphia Record. “Amplifies and intensifies the picture of the sea which Mr. Bullen had already produced.... Calm, shipwreck, the surface and depths of the sea, the monsters of the deep, superstitions and tales of the sailors—all find a place in this strange and exciting book.”—Chicago Times-Herald. The Cruise of the Cachalot. Round the World after Sperm Whales. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “It is immense—there is no other word. I’ve never read anything that equals it in its deep-sea wonder and mystery, nor do I think that any book before has so completely covered the whole business of whale fishing, and, at the same time, given such real and new sea pictures. I congratulate you most heartily. It’s a new world you’ve opened the door to.”—Rudyard Kipling. “Written with racy freedom of literary expression and luxuriant abundance of incident, so that ‘The Cruise of the Cachalot’ becomes a story of fascinating vividness which thrills the reader and amuses him. The volume is no less enthralling? than ‘Two Years before the Mast,’ and higher praise can not be accorded to a story of the sea.... A book of such extraordinary merit seldom comes to hand.”—Philadelphia Press. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. BOOKS BY CY WARMAN. Snow on the Headlight. A Story of the Great Burlington Strike. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. “Mr. Warman holds a unique position among our tellers of tales, since he alone is a practical railroad man, who knows the work, and has done it, in all its details.”—New York Mail and Express. “Plenty of close-range photographs, interior views, of the great Burlington strike are to be found in Cy Warman’s book.”—Philadelphia Times. “It has the great virtue of being a plain story plainly told by one who knows. Whatever other impression it may convey to the reader, it conveys most strongly the impression of truth. And this plain truth, told in a plain way, is a terrible thing. One can feel all the way through that half the tale—and perhaps the worst half—is left untold, yet such as stands in print is sufficient, and to the reader who cares for something more than the superficial adventurous incident of the book it will not be without its instructive influence.”—Denver Republican. “Told with all the freshness and vividness of an eyewitness.”—Philadelphia Call. “Will be read with interest by all railroad men.”—Galesburg (Ill.) Mail. The Story of the Railroad. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “Far more interesting than the average novel.... Mr. Warman’s volume makes us hear and feel the rush of modern civilization. It gives us also the human side of the picture—the struggles of the frontiersman and his family, the dismay and cruel wrath of the retreating savage, the heroism of the advance guard of the railway builders, and the cutthroat struggles of competing lines. He does not deal greatly with statistics, but the figures he uses help make up the stunning effect of gigantic enterprise. There is not a dull page in the book.”—New York Evening Post. “Intensely interesting—a history that reads like a romance, and compared with whose marvelous story indeed most modern romances will seem spiritless and tame.”—Charleston News and Courier. “Worthy to stand on the same shelf with Hough’s Story of the Cowboy.”—Milwaukee Journal. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. MISS DOUGALL’S BOOKS. THE MORMON PROPHET. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “A striking story.... Immensely interesting and diverting, and as a romance it certainly has a unique power.”—Boston Herald. “In ‘The Mormon Prophet’ Miss Lily Dougall has told, in strongly dramatic form, the story of Joseph Smith and of the growth of the Church of the Latter-Day Saints, which has again come prominently before the public through the election of a polygamist to Congress.... Miss Dougall has handled her subject with consummate skill.... She has rightly seen that this man’s life contained splendid material for a historical novel. She has taken no unwarranted liberties with the truth, and has succeeded in furnishing a story whose scope broadens with each succeeding chapter until the end.”—New York Mail and Express. “Mormonism is not ordinarily regarded as capable of romantic treatment, but in the hands of Miss Dougall it has yielded results which are calculated to attract the general public as well as the student of psychology.... Miss Dougall has handled a difficult theme with conspicuous delicacy; the most sordid details of the narrative are redeemed by the glamour of her style, her analysis of the strangely mixed character of the prophet is remarkable for its detachment and impartiality, while in Susannah Halsey she has given us a really beautiful study of nobly compassionate womanhood. We certainly know of no more illuminative commentary on the rise of this extraordinary sect than is furnished by Miss Dougall’s novel.”—London Spectator. “Miss Dougall may be congratulated both on her choice of a subject for her new book and on her remarkably able and interesting treatment of it.... A fascinating story, which is even more remarkable and more fascinating as a psychological study.”—The Scotsman. THE MADONNA OF A DAY. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. “An entirely unique story. Alive with incident and related in a fresh and captivating style.”—Philadelphia Press. “A novel that stands quite by itself, and that in theme as well as in artistic merit should make a very strong appeal to the mind of a sympathetic reader.”—Boston Beacon. THE MERMAID. 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. “The author of this novel has the gift of contrivance and the skill to sustain the interest of a plot through all its development. ‘The Mermaid’ is an odd and interesting story.”—New York Times. THE ZEIT-GEIST. 16mo. Cloth, 75 cents. “One of the most remarkable novels.”—New York Commercial Advertiser. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. TWO SUCCESSFUL AMERICAN NOVELS. LATITUDE 19°. A Romance of the West Indies in the Year of our Lord 1820. Being a faithful account and true, of the painful adventures of the Skipper, the Bo’s’n, the Smith, the Mate, and Cynthia. By Mrs. Schuyler Crowninshield. Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “‘Latitude 19°’ is a novel of incident, of the open air, of the sea, the shore, the mountain eyrie, and of breathing, living entities, who deal with Nature at first hand.... The adventures described are peculiarly novel and interesting.... Packed with incidents, infused with humor and wit, and faithful to the types introduced, this book will surely appeal to the large audience already won, and beget new friends among those who believe in fiction that is healthy without being maudlin, and is strong without losing the truth.”—New York Herald. “A story filled with rapid and exciting action from the first page to the last. A fecundity of invention that never lags, and a judiciously used vein of humor.”—The Critic. “A volume of deep, undeniable charm. A unique book from a fresh, sure, vigorous pen.”—Boston Journal. “Adventurous and romantic enough to satisfy the most exacting reader.... Abounds in situations which make the blood run cold, and yet, full of surprises as it is, one is continually amazed by the plausibility of the main incidents of the narrative.... A very successful effort to portray the sort of adventures that might have taken place in the West Indies seventy-five or eighty years ago.... Very entertaining with its dry humor.”—Boston Herald. A HERALD OF THE WEST. An American Story of 1811-1815. By J. A. Altsheler, author of “A Soldier of Manhattan” and “The Sun of Saratoga.” 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. “‘A Herald of the West’ is a romance of our history which has not been surpassed in dramatic force, vivid coloring, and historical interest.... In these days when the flush of war has only just passed, the book ought to find thousands of readers, for it teaches patriotism without intolerance, and it shows, what the war with Spain has demonstrated anew, the power of the American people when they are deeply roused by some great wrong.”—San Francisco Chronicle. “The book throughout is extremely well written. It is condensed, vivid, picturesque.... A rattling good story, and unrivaled in fiction for its presentation of the American feeling toward England during our second conflict.”—Boston Herald. “Holds the attention continuously.... The book abounds in thrilling attractions.... It is a solid and dignified acquisition to the romantic literature of our own country, built around facts and real persons.”—Chicago Times-Herald. “In a style that is strong and broad, the author of this timely novel takes up a nascent period of our national history and founds upon it a story of absorbing interest.”—Philadelphia Item. “Mr. Altsheler has given us an accurate as well as picturesque portrayal of the social and political conditions which prevailed in the republic in the era made famous by the second war with Great Britain.”—Brooklyn Eagle. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. BOOKS BY GILBERT PARKER. Uniform Edition. The Seats of the Mighty. Being the Memoirs of Captain Robert Moray, sometime an Officer in the Virginia Regiment, and afterwards of Amherst’s Regiment. Illustrated, $1.50. “Another historical romance of the vividness and intensity of ‘The Seats of the Mighty’ has never come from the pen of an American. Mr. Parker’s latest work may without hesitation be set down as the best he has done. From the first chapter to the last word interest in the book never wanes; one finds it difficult to interrupt the narrative with breathing space. It whirls with excitement and strange adventure.... All of the scenes do homage to the genius of Mr. Parker, and make ‘The Seats of the Mighty’ one of the books of the year.”—Chicago Record. “Mr. Gilbert Parker is to be congratulated on the excellence of his latest story, ‘The Seats of the Mighty,’ and his readers are to be congratulated on the direction which his talents have taken therein.... It is so good that we do not stop to think of its literature, and the personality of Doltaire is a masterpiece of creative art.”—New York Mail and Express. The Trail of the Sword. A Novel. $1.25. “Mr. Parker here adds to a reputation already wide, and anew demonstrates his power of pictorial portrayal and of strong dramatic situation and climax.”—Philadelphia Bulletin. The Trespasser. $1.25 “Interest, pith, force, and charm—Mr. Parker’s new story possesses all these qualities.... Almost bare of synthetical decoration, his paragraphs are stirring because they are real. We read at times—as we have read the great masters of romance—breathlessly.”—The Critic. The Translation of a Savage. $1.25. “A book which no one will be satisfied to put down until the end has been matter of certainty and assurance.”—The Nation. Mrs. Falchion. $1.25. “A well-knit story, told in an exceedingly interesting way, and holding the reader’s attention to the end.” The Pomp of the Lavilettes. 16mo. Cloth, $1.25. “Its sincerity and rugged force will commend it to those who love and seek strong work in fiction.”—The Critic. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY'S PUBLICATIONS. By S. R. CROCKETT. Uniform edition. Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.50. THE STANDARD BEARER. An Historical Romance. “Mr. Crockett’s book is distinctly one of the books of the year. Five months of 1898 have passed without bringing to the reviewers’ desk anything to be compared with it in beauty of description, convincing characterization, absorbing plot and humorous appeal. The freshness and sweet sincerity of the tale are most invigorating, and that the book will be very much read there is no possible doubt.”—Boston Budget. “The book will move to tears, provoke to laughter, stir the blood, and evoke heroisms of history, making the reading of it a delight and the memory of it a stimulus and a joy.”—New York Evangelist. LADS’ LOVE. Illustrated. “It seems to us that there is in this latest product much of the realism of personal experience. However modified and disguised, it is hardly possible to think that the writer’s personality does not present itself in Saunders McQuhirr.... Rarely has the author drawn more truly from life than in the cases of Nance and ‘the Hempie’; never more typical Scotsman of the humble sort than the farmer Peter Chrystie.”—London AthenÆum. CLEG KELLY, ARAB OF THE CITY. His Progress and Adventures. Illustrated. “A masterpiece which Mark Twain himself has never rivaled.... If there ever was an ideal character in fiction it is this heroic ragamuffin.”—London Daily Chronicle. “In no one of his books does Mr. Crockett give us a brighter or more graphic picture of contemporary Scotch life than in ‘Cleg Kelly.’ ... It is one of the great books.”—Boston Daily Advertiser. BOG-MYRTLE AND PEAT. Third edition. “Here are idylls, epics, dramas of human life, written in words that thrill and burn.... Each is a poem that has an immortal flavor. They are fragments of the author’s early dreams, too bright, too gorgeous, too full of the blood of rubies and the life of diamonds to be caught and held palpitating in expression’s grasp.”—Boston Courier. “Hardly a sketch among them all that will not afford pleasure to the reader for its genial humor, artistic local coloring, and admirable portrayal of character.”—Boston Home Journal. THE LILAC SUNBONNET. Eighth edition. “A love story, pure and simple, one of the old fashioned, wholesome, sun-shiny kind, with a pure-minded, sound-hearted hero, and a heroine who is merely a good and beautiful woman; and if any other love story half so sweet has been written this year it has escaped our notice.”—New York Times. “The general conception of the story, the motive of which is the growth of love between the young chief and heroine, is delineated with a sweetness and a freshness, a naturalness and a certainty, which places ‘The Lilac Sunbonnet’ among the best stories of the time.”—New York Mail and Express. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. |