Well, the next day, or ruther that night I begun to make preparations to go to Waitstill White’s. I got a early supper that night so’s to git to bed early so’s to git up in good season; so’s to git a early breakfast the next mornin’, so’s to git a early dinner, so’s to start in good season for Ernest and Waitstill White’s. And I kep’ sayin’ that over and over the next mornin’, “Ernest and Waitstill White’s,” it sounded dretful good to me, dretful.

I sez to Philury, “We must have dinner early, for we are invited to Ernest and Waitstill White’s.”

And I sez the same to Josiah. And he sez, “You’ve said that to me a dozen times already.”

“Well,” sez I cheerfully, “mebby I shall say it a dozen times more.”

I felt well, dretful well in my mind. It had come out just as I had hoped and prayed for, and why shouldn’t I feel good.

Well, they greeted us with warm affection. And you don’t know how pretty their home looked. It had been fixed up in their absence and Waitstill had put the finishin’ touches to it when she come. It wuz a gloomy spot under the Pooler regeem. But Waitstill wuz a true homemaker and could make a barn seem home like, as folks can that have that gift. You often see folks who think, or say they think, that one set of faculties henders another set from workin’. But it hain’t no such thing. Miss Pooler wuz nothin’ but a housekeeper, and as poor a one at that as you would be apt to find in a day’s travel, whilst Waitstill wuz a philanthropist, a missionary, an angel on earth if ever there 457 wuz one, and a homemaker and a home lover added to it, just as the Bible sez: “Seek first the kingdom of heaven and all these things shall be added unto you,” or words to that effect.

The settin’-room and parlor that used to seem like a dark-green curtained mausoleum, sacred to the mournin’ pieces on the wall, and the hair wreaths of defunct Poolers wuz now the sunshinny hant of Beauty and Cheerfulness. Bay windows bordered with soft-colored glass, and curtained with fleecy white, let the sunshine stream into the pretty, freshly-decorated room, where it seemed to love to stay and shine. A conservatory full of blossoming plants made the settin’ and dinin’-rooms full of cheer and perfume.

One good stout German girl bore willin’ly the heaviest burdens of housekeeping, but Waitstill and Love and Good Judgment wuz to the hellum, and the result wuz beautiful. A happier household I don’t want to see, a better supper I don’t want to eat. Waitstill had some briled chicken, tender and toothsome, some creamed potatoes, fixed just right, light white rolls, yellow sweet butter made from their own Jersey cow’s milk, clear amber honey from their own beehives, sliced peaches from their own peach trees (it wuz a late kind, each one rolled up in newspapers, and put in a box in the suller and kep’ and purple and white grapes kep’ in the same way). Some pound cake made from my own reseet, a noble one that fell onto me from Mother Allen, and improved on by me, and some angel cake, made by Waitstill herself, and as snowy and delicious as if it wuz made by a real angel with wings, some fragrant coffee with rich cream to make it delicious, and chocolate for them that preferred it. A big glass bowl of roses and carnations wuz in the centre, and the table wuz spread with a snowy linen cloth, and sot with beautiful china, white with a gold and pink sprig on it, part of a big quantity sent by his rich folks, who wuz delighted to have him marry such a sweet girl and settle down, and the heavy shinin’ silver marked “W. W. W.,” lookin’ 458 some like a runnin’ vine, and the glossy linen tablecloths and napkins looking like satin covered with posies, come from the same source, also marked with her initials. Enough, Waitstill told me, to last ’em all their lives if they should live to be as old as Methusaler and his wife.

Well, I wuz glad enough to see their prosperity and happiness and when Ernest White sot to his own table by the side of Waitstill White and in a few short, eloquent, heart-felt words asked the Lord’s blessing on this new home consecrated to his service, and on his dear friends happily returned home agin, my heart echoed every word and there wuzn’t a dry eye in my head, not one.

After supper wuz over we sot out to go to the meetin’ he had spoke on. It wuz the openin’ night of the new library, which wuz in a pretty little buildin’ jined onto the meetin’-house and only a few minutes’ walk from Ernest and Waitstill White’s.

There wuz a good, large room for the library filled with good books helpful and inspirin’, bought partly by Ernest White and partly by voluntary contributions by his people, a reading-room filled with magazines and newspapers and which with the library wuz to be opened every evening and two afternoons in the weeks. And there wuz a cozy little settin’-room and bed-room with a kitchen back out for the librarian. And who do you spoze wuz to be librarian and live here clost to her idol? Oh, shaw! I might just as well told you right out as to have said that; it wuz Arvilly. It wuz congenial work to her and left her plenty of time to go round canvassin’ if she wanted to.

We wuz a little late for the meetin’, for a man come to see the Elder just as we wuz startin’, about marryin’ him the next day, and as anybody knows that has to be tended to ’tennyrate.

As we drawed nigh the library and meetin’-house we see they wuz lighted up in as friendly and pleasant a way as if they wuz two beacons set up to light our footsteps. And 459 as we went in we see a group of happy faced young people gathered round the organ practicin’ a piece they wuz learnin’ for Thanksgivin’.

It wuz a sweet song of thankfulness and peace, filled with gratitude for all the blessin’s of the year. A sweet song full of love to God and man and that would be apt to inspire the singers and hearers with forbearance, justice, mercy, sane living and thinking. In another part of the hall they wuz practicing some pretty pieces to speak at this celebration, but when Elder White went in they all met him joyfully as a beloved father is met by his children, and they bestowed a loving greeting on Waitstill too.

These young men and women wuz ready to look through the magnifyin’ glass of love at any lesson Ernest White should set before them to fit ’em for life’s battle.

The meeting that night wuz a sort of a social, where the young and older folks met to get better acquainted with each other, and had a good time visitin’ back and forth and comparin’ notes and bein’ introduced to Waitstill and the new library. One attracted just about as much attention as the other, both wuz exceedingly interestin’ to ’em and beloved.

Elder Cross wuz there, he sets store by Ernest White, though he is so different from him. He is good natered and a Christian, I believe, though Arvilly said he would have to be fixed over quite a good deal before he got into the Kingdom.

And I sez, “Well, we all shall, Arvilly.”

“Ernest White won’t,” sez she, “all they will have to do to him will be to tack on a pair of wings and pin his crown on. He’s a saint on earth now,” sez she.

Well, Elder Cross come up to Arvilly and welcomed her home and said a few words about Ernest White’s overwhelmin’ success, which he considered a mericale, and he couldn’t understand it.

“Well, I can understand it,” sez Arvilly, “I have always said that no power could stand before the Church of Christ 460 when it is fully awakened to the enormity of the sin it is encouraging by its indifference and neglect, and bands itself together to fight against it. The saloon votes solid,” sez Arvilly, “they are faithful to their cause, they are fiery hot with zeal, the church a good many of ’em are lukewarm, some like the Laodocians, and some like dish-water ready to be emptied down into the drain. America is ruled by her cities, and they are ruled by the saloon and unrighteous trusts and political bosses. Foreigners from the old world slums flaunt the banner of independence in the face of American womanhood. And the church of God that might remedy the evils lets ’em go on.”

Sez Elder Cross, “I know well that the saloon is a mighty power for evil, it ruins our youth, soul and body, and I know that Monopoly is the thief that steals the rewards of labor. But I pray, sister Arvilly, I pray without ceasing that the Holy Spirit will come down, and smite these offenders.”

Sez Arvilly the dantless one, “You don’t depend on prayer alone in your church services, in taking up collections, etc., or in worldly affairs,” (Elder Cross is real rich, he keeps a hen dairy).

Sez Arvilly, “If you should depend on prayer alone to keep your big shanghai rooster from fightin’ the little bantys I guess you would be apt to have considerable of a wake in your hen-yard. And you don’t kneel down and shet your eyes and pray for your young turkeys and chickens when a pair of big wicked hawks are swoopin’ down on ’em or a heavy thunder-storm comin’ on. No, you drive your little onprotected broods into the first shelter you can find and go at the old hawks with a club. Not that I approve of fightin’,” sez Arvilly, “but there is a time to pray and a time to use a horsewhip; our Lord, who was and is our divine example, prayed thy kingdom come, and then helped it to come by driving out the money-changers, and them that defiled the temple. He might have prayed for them to be driv 461 out and then folded his hands and waited for the millennium. But He didn’t, nor He didn’t say that human nature wuz too hard to handle, and that evil things had got to be changed gradual. He didn’t take their rich gifts, He didn’t make ’em church wardens, nor hang their pictures up in college halls to stimulate young men to go and do likewise. And that is what ministers of our Lord and his disciples want to do to-day, to drive out of the temple and the country the fat thieves that infest it, and the sanctified rascals wearin’ sheep’s clothin’. They have got a powerful whip in a consecrated ballot that will drive the thieves out and make them disgorge their ill-gotten gains.”

Elder Cross wuz agitated; the argument wuz driving him into a corner where he didn’t want to stand; he turned the conversation:

“This is a great work dear brother White is doing, but some criticise the idea of his opening the house of God every evening for amusements as well as prayer. Some don’t believe in mingling secular things with sacred.”

Sez Arvilly, “What is more sacred to the Lord than a saved soul, a lost one redeemed, a prodigal brought back. What headway is one church opened three hours a week goin’ to make aginst twenty saloons open every day and night.” Arvilly begun to be powerful agitated and I spoke up quick, for I knew how hash she wuz when she got to goin’, and I didn’t want this beautiful day marred by hashness even if it wuz deserved.

Sez I, “We all know how much good the church has done in the past. And now that the churches are beginning to band themselves together, and vote as they pray, this enormous force of righteousness is going to be victorious over sin and darkness, and the Saloon and the Canteen, the licensed houses of shame, monument of woman’s degradation, the unjust monopoly, the high fence separating the few enormously rich from the masses of the suffering, starving poor, will all have to fall. Christ did not die in vain,” sez 462 I, “nor the blood of the martyrs has not been in vain. The Lord has promised and he will fulfill.”

“God speed that day!” sez Elder Cross shettin’ his eyes and claspin’ his hands.

“Amen!” sez I.

But I hearn Arvilly behind me mutter, “You’ll have to open your old eyes, Elder, and go to work, or you won’t have much hand in it.”

But I guess he didn’t hear her.

Well, goin’ home that night, my heart sung for joy a anthem, more than a ordinary sam tune. The bright moonlight rested on the democrat and my pardner, and gilded the way in front of us, and further off we could see it lay on the lake, and it seemed to make a silver path on it. Life seemed worth livin’, the cold waves of death seemed lit up with a heavenly glow, the hosts of evil seemed to back off before the Angel of Deliverance.

I don’t spoze that from Maine to Florida, or from Jonesville to San Francisco there wuz a happier Thanksgivin’ party than we had. Havin’ such sights and sights of things to be thankful for, I laid out as I say to begin to be thankful before candle light in the mornin’ and keep it up all day long till bed time, and so I did.

It wuz a lovely day, the sun shone into our bedroom winder through the beautiful knit fringe, made by my own hands, and rested on me lovin’ly as I combed my hair in front of the lookin’-glass. There had been a fall of snow the night before, as if nater had done her best for the occasion and spread her white ermine down for the feet of the angel, Thanksgivin’.

Philury got breakfast most ready by candle light, and I’d been bein’ thankful ever since she put the tea kettle over.

“Josiah,” sez I, “do you realize what a glorious day this is and how much, how much we have to be thankful for?”

He had broke one of his shue strings and wuz bent down breathin’ kinder hard and tusslin’ with it and his answer 463 wuzn’t what I could wished it wuz. But I knowed that it wuz because the blood had rushed to his head. He got it tied up in a few minutes and eat his breakfast with a splendid appetite. Philury had good tender lamb chops and baked potatoes and light muffins and a fragrant cup of coffee, and Josiah recovered his usual flow of sperits before we got half through. And we read together a chapter out of The Book, and Josiah made a prayer full of thankfulness that come from his very heart for the blessings of home and love and all the precious gifts the Father bestowed on us durin’ the year.

The children come early and brought some lovely presents to us. We make a practice of givin’ presents in our own family Thanksgivin’, for it always seemed so kinder appropriate that while we wuz givin’ thanks we might just as well give a few more. And their presents to us wuz just what we wanted and ourn to them proved to be just what they wanted. Of course it wuzn’t all a happen; we had throwed out hints and perspected round as well as we could before we selected ’em, kinder throwed out the line of wonder and surmises, and ketched opinions and wishes on it.

At ten A.M. we all got into two big sleighs and went to Jonesville to meetin’. It wuz a union meetin’ and Elder White wuz chose to preach the Thanksgivin’ sermon. It wuz a beautiful discourse, it come from the depths of a thankful, lovin’ Christian heart and went right to ourn.

The party I had invited went home with us from the meetin’-house, Philury had the house all warm and it wuzn’t long before we had dinner ready, of course we had got everything cooked we could the day before.

The dinner, though of course I ortn’t to say it, but they all said, and of course it must be so, they said it wuz the best Thanksgivin’ dinner that wuz ever cooked in this world, and Josiah whispered to me as he helped himself to the third helpin’ of turkey and dressin’, that he knowed that there 464 never wuz such a meal cooked in Jupiter or Mars or any other planet.

But I whispered back, it wuzn’t safe to say such things, sez I. “Most probably they have many and lots of things we don’t know anything about.”

“Manny!” sez he, “how would manny show off by the side of this dressin’?” and he took another spunful.

I spoze my dressin’ duz go ahead of most, though it hain’t made me hauty. Well, how happy everybody wuz; how good they looked to me and I to them, I knew it by their liniments. How the children doted on me and their Pa, how dear little Tommy hung round us. How softened down Arvilly wuz by her happiness in havin’ Waitstill back agin, but still she kep’ her faculties from rustin’, and sold two books that day for presents, and one to Elder Minkley for a Sabbath School prize.

How adorable Waitstill looked in her pretty cashmere gown of pale violet color with white roses at her bosom and belt, she had throwed off her black as a reasonable widder should, I never approved of mournin’ for one man whilst weddin’ another, that is mournin’ in public in crape and weeds. I don’t believe she had a black rag on her, she might you know if she had been sly have put a black bindin’ on her petticoat or a black pocket. I remember the Widder Doodle did, but I never approved of it. No, mournin’ weeds are right in their place, and orange blossoms in theirn, but I never believed in mixin’ the two.

Down deep in Waitstill’s heart, hid from every eye but the one who made that heart, wuz a place where her thought must retire into now and then and weep. Yes, I knowed that whilst her loyal love and respect and reverence wuz all given to the man she loved, who wuz strong, her thought would anon or oftener have to go into that sombry room and weep for the young lover who wuz weak, but whose weakness would never have blossomed into crime had not his country hung the Sodom apple before his eyes and his 465 weak appetite yielded to it, had overthrown the labor and efforts of years, tempted him with low temptations that had been stronger than love, stronger than religion, stronger than life. All his life long he had fought against inherited tastes as they fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, and he would have come off conqueror had it not been for licensed evils and the weaknesses in high and low places that permitted it to be.

Yes, into that closely locked, sombry chamber I knowed that Waitstill would go alone and stay there for quite a spell. But after a time I mistrusted the sweet peace and happiness of her life would be such that she would go seldomer and make shorter visits when she did go. And its black gloom would be lighted by tones of living love and gleams of light and warmth from tender eyes. And I hoped that the time would come when dimpled baby fingers would gently bar the doorway and she wouldn’t go there to stay for any length of time.

Well, the happy company stayed till nine p.m., when they departed with many pleasant and loving words, I being thankful every minute of the time, even when I see ’em drive off. You know sometimes as glad as you are to have company, and as well as you like ’em, you are kinder glad to set down quiet, and think over all the happy time, and rest your head.

Well, the next day after Thanksgivin’, early in the afternoon, Josiah said he had got to go over to Jonesville, and proposed that I should ride over with him. He said the mair kinder needed shuein’, and sez he, “We might bring Tommy home with us, for there wuzn’t any school Saturday, and he could stay over Sunday with us.”

It duz seem now as if we can’t help settin’ a little more store by Tommy than we do by the other grandchildren. But it better not be told I said it, it would make feelin’s amongst the rest.

Well, we made lovely calls on the children, and got 466 Tommy, who wuz more than willin’ to come, and returned home about ten a.m., Tommy settin’ between us and drivin’ the mair, Thomas J. and Maggie sayin’ they would drive over Sunday night after him and take tea with us.

We stopped at the post-office, and Tommy run in and got three letters for me, two on ’em which I opened and read when I first got home, whilst Josiah and Tommy drove over to Deacon Henzy’s on a errent. As I say I read two on ’em, but of the third one more anon. One of my letters wuz from Cousin John Richard, who had gone back to Victor workin’ for his Lord in his own appointed way, teachin’ the young, comfortin’ the aged, and exhortin’ the strong, helpin’ to bear the burdens of the weak, and doin’ it all in the name of Him who is invisible, waitin’ patient till the summons should be sent him to go home to his own land, for the Bible sez that “them that do such things show plainly that they seek a country.”

Fur acrost that dark continent from another oasis like Victor beginnin’ to be illuminated with the white light beamin’ from the uplifted cross, come a message to me from another consecrated missionary and child of Heaven, Evangeline Noble. She told me of the blessed work she wuz doin’ in Africa and how happy she wuz in it, for her Master wuz with her tellin’ her what to do from day to day, and she happy in carryin’ out that work and seein’ the light from heaven stream into dark minds and souls.

How much store I set by her, I lay out to send her a barrel of things this fall, some dried apples, canned fruit, good books, a piece of rag carpet and a crazy quilt, not rarin’ ravin’ crazy, but sort o’ beautifully delerious, embroidered with cat stitch round every block.

And the other letter wuz from Miss Meechim. I read Cousin John Richard’s and Evangeline’s, but I put hern on the mantletry piece and thought I wouldn’t read it till about a hour after dinner, mistrustin’ that it would agitate and work me up, so that my food wouldn’t set good.

Dorothy’s marriage to Robert Strong had took place a week before, but not a word had I heard from Miss Meechim, and I didn’t know what effect the blow had had on her. Josiah and I had been warmly invited to attend the weddin’, but not feelin’ willin’ to embark on another tower we sent her a pretty present and love, lots and lots of love, and the earnest best wishes of our hearts.

They wuz married in Dorothy’s home in San Francisco, and went immegiately after the ceremony to their new home in the City of Justice to begin their life work there. Dorothy had writ me all the particulars of their marriage. They didn’t want any show and display she said, and they took the money they would have had to spend to make a big wedding with a crowd of guests, elaborate dressing, rich viands, music, flowers, etc. They took this money and gave a holiday to the children in the City of Justice, a beautiful dinner, music and gifts for all.

And they wuz married in a plain, quiet way in the presence of a few relatives and close friends, she dressed in a pretty white muslin (and lookin’ sweet as a rose I knew, though, of course, she didn’t say so). And after a simple lunch, they drove out to their new home. But I hearn, and it come straight, too, that the children of the City of Justice, just worshippin’ Robert Strong as they did, they all on ’em dressed in white, their pretty heads crowned with roses, filled baskets with the sweetest flowers they could find and went out to meet the young couple beyend the gate. And as they approached, they met ’em with rejoicing songs sung in their sweet clear voices and scattered roses and sweet posies in their path, their bright, happy eyes and smilin’ lips givin’ ’em just as sweet a greetin’.

And as they entered into the city at sunset, the workmen met ’em all dressed in holiday attire, and their cheers and blessings followed the carriage till they reached their own door, which wuz banked up with odorous blossoms as high as ever a snow drift blocked up the houses in Jonesville, and 468 they had to fairly wade through the sweet posies to git to their door.

So, surrounded and blessed with love and rejoicings rising from grateful adoring hearts, Robert and Dorothy Strong begun their married life. Love and Mercy standin’ right by their sides like maids of honor, and Honesty and Justice like usher and best man, usherin’ ’em into a useful and happy life of work and toil sweetened forever with gratitude and love. Lovin’ each other as dearly as ever a man and woman did, lovin’ their Lord supremely and showing that love in the way He bade his disciples to in caring for and blessing humanity. They begun that day a power of helpful inspiring influences that would bless the world, go through life with ’em and wait on ’em clear through the swellin’ flood and lead ’em up onto the other shore from their City of Justice and love here, to that sweet continuing City of Rest and Reward.

I felt well about Robert and Dorothy––yes, my heart sung for Joy carryin’ the hull four parts, base, altore, bear tone and sulfireno. That is to say, the different faculties of my head and heart all jined in and sung together in happiness and made a full orkestry.

You know when you hear of some marriages a part of you is pleased, mebby it is Common Sense, whilst Romance and Fancy has to set dumb and demute. Or mebby Fancy sings whilst cold Reason is spreadin’ a wet blanket on her part of the band, chillin’ the notes and spilein’ the instrument. But here Reason, Romance, Love and Common Sense all jined in together and sung the wedding anthem loud and clear.

But Miss Meechim, I felt dubersome about her; Dorothy didn’t mention her in her letter, bein’ so took up with Robert and Love, so I spozed. I knowed well how repugnant matrimony wuz to her and how sternly resolved she wuz that Dorothy should go through life a bachelor maid.

I hated to read Miss Meechim’s letter, I dreaded it like a dog. How did I know but her great disappointment and 469 crushin’ grief to see her hull life work smashed and demolished, had smit her down, and she had passed away writin’ my name on a envelope with her last flicker of life and some stranger pen had writ me of the tragedy.

I put the letter up on the mantletry piece and thought I wouldn’t read it till about a hour after dinner.

And whilst I wuz gittin’ dinner and eatin’ it and went about doin’ up my work afterwards, I eyed that letter some as a cat eyes a dog kennel and hung off from readin’ it. But wantin’ to git the hard job over before night sot in, about the middle of the afternoon I read a few verses of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, put two cushions in the rockin’ chair, took a swaller of spignut and thorough-o’-wort to kinder hold up my strength, and a few whiffs of camfire, and then I put on my near-to specs, opened the letter with a deep sithe and begun to read. But good land! I needn’t have foreboded so; I might have knowed that though her hatred of matrimony wuz great, her egotism and self esteem wuz bigger yet.

The letter stated in glowin’ terms her gratefulness to her Creator to think she had a nephew so bound up in her interest and welfare. She said that she had mentioned one day, durin’ a severe attack of bilerous colic her fears and forebodin’s about Dorothy’s future if she should succumb to the colic and leave her alone. She said that it wuzn’t a week after this that her nephew and Dorothy had confided to her the fact of their engagement.

Sez she, “Not one word to Dorothy have I mentioned or ever shall mention as to Robert’s reasons for sacrificin’ himself to ease my mind, and make me more care free. I wouldn’t for the world,” sez she, “have Dorothy suspect why Robert has made a martyr of himself, and to no one but you, Josiah Allen’s wife,” sez she, “shall I ever breathe it.” But she felt that she could confide in me, and wanted me to know just how it wuz.

So her colossial self esteem carried her through safely, and 470 she wuz as happy as any on ’em. She wuz goin’ to live in a little house Robert had bought for her in San Francisco. Martha, the steady English maid, wuz goin’ to live with her, as she had proved faithful. And she added a few heart breakin’ words of grief and mournfulness about our dear lost Aronette.

And she gin me to understand that sence Aronette’s dretful death in New York she had gradually changed her mind about drinking.

I believe Arvilly’s talk helped convince her, though Miss Meechim would never own it to her dyin’ day, and I d’no as Arvilly would want her to, they just naterally abominate each other.

But ’tennyrate she said she felt that nothing that could lead on to that awful termination and terrible tragedy, could be called genteel. And she said she had had a argument with Rev. Mr. Weakdew, in which they had both got genteelly angry (tearin’ mad I should call it from what she told me of their interview). But I will pass over particulars which filled eight pages of large note paper, the upshot bein’ that she had left his church for good and all, and jined a Temperance mission church down in the city. And she wuz now writin’ tracts to prove that intemperance wuz the beast with seven horns mentioned in Scripture.

Good land! it has got more than seven horns, I believe, and all of ’em dagger sharp and wet with tears and heart’s blood.

She expected, she said, that these tracts would make a end to the liquor power and the social evil, and temperance would rain in the world some time durin’ the comin’ fall.

But they won’t. These evils are sot too firm on American soil, it will take a greater power than Miss Meechim’s tracts to upheave ’em. But I am glad she is sot that way, for every little helps, and the breath of Miss Meechim’s converted soul is blowin’ the right way and when the hull Christian world 471 shall be converted, the united influence will move along a mighty overwhelmin’ power that will sweep these ungodly evils from the face of the earth. Then will come the golden days of peace, righteousness, the reign of the Lord Jesus, for which we pray every day when we say “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.”

A FEW FROM HUNDREDS OF PRESS NOTICES OF
SAMANTHA AT THE ST. LOUIS EXPOSITION
by JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE––(Marietta Holley)

Few characters of fiction will live longer than Samantha. A fund of old-fashioned, homely but decidedly sound philosophy, yet an eye for the facetious phases of human nature, witty as well as philosophical. Older readers can remember a few who have pleased for a time and been forgotten, and the few in recent years like David Harum and Eben Holden have been most enthusiastically appreciated. The philosophy of Samantha is broader and deeper than any of these characters. Her insight when dealing with hidden motives is sharper and her wit keener. It is not surprising that the character has so long stood the test of time, and that a new book from the author is regarded as an important event in the book world.

Pittsburg Press

Those who went to the St. Louis Exposition––and those who wished to but did not, can have a good souvenir of the great show, and an account of it that will be interesting years hence as now, in “Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition.”

Samantha and Josiah went to the Fair, “took it all in,” and Samantha relates their experiences in her well-known quaint style. The characteristic illustrations of their adventures by C. Grunwald are great.

Cleveland Plain Dealer

The main points of interest at the Exposition are discussed and moralized over in her inimitable way by Samantha.

The Outlook

Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition, by Josiah Allen’s wife, is a revival of what was perhaps one of the most popular humorous series ever issued. The present volume contains the same pathos and shrewd rustic sense with all the humor of her previous works.

Baker & Taylor’s Monthly Bulletin of Best Selling Books

She has sampled the glories of the St. Louis Fair and described them in language of enduring worth.

Boston Advertiser

A story full of the mixture of wit, pathos, eloquence and common sense.

New York Globe

Very unlike her earlier books in appearance. It has a smart up-to-date binding and striking modern illustrations by Grunwald. But Miss Holley’s part is perfectly natural and familiar. It has lost none of its mirth, none of its common sense, none of its good clear-eyed religious way of looking at things. It is faithful to the spirit of a great deal that is best in American life.

Syracuse Post Standard

G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
PUBLISHERSNEW YORK

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY OF
Sir Henry Morgan––Buccaneer
By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY

The New York Tribune says––and it is true––that “Mr. Brady is fond of dashing themes and certainly here he has found a subject to suit his most exacting mood. He has taken a rascal for the hero of his picaresque and rattling romance. The author is lavish in incident and handles one thrilling situation after another with due sense of all the dramatic force that is to be got out of it. His description of the last moments of the old pirate is one of the most effective pieces of writing he has put to his credit. Sir Henry Morgan––Buccaneer is an absorbing story.”

“Cyrus Townsend Brady has had the hardihood to set aside the romantic pirate of fictional tradition and paint a genuine historic pirate; lustful, murderous, brutal, relentless. The story has force and dramatic interest.”––The Lamp.

“Mr. Brady has never before been so successful in creating a character who so completely fills the scene. Morgan dominates the book from the first line to the last.”––Philadelphia Item.

“The story is a fascinating one––a concentration of all the pirate stories that ever were written.”––Rochester Herald.

“Mr. Brady has a graphic and realistic power of description. The novel is full measure and running over with thrills.”––Brooklyn Eagle.

“A thrilling pirate story, a lively romance sufficiently sensational yet not lacking in delicacy.”––Boston Transcript.

“The story is full of incident and has an appropriate measure of love and sword play.”––N. Y. Times.

“It is as rakish and dashing a craft on seas literary as any of the hero’s black-flagged ships on seas actual.”––N. Y. World.

“There is ‘hot stuff’ in Sir Henry Morgan––Buccaneer.”––N. Y. Evening Sun.

“The interest of the action, pitched high in the beginning, is held to the point of utmost tension throughout.”––St. Louis Star.

Profusely and beautifully illustrated from paintings by J. N. Marchand
and drawings by Will Crawford. Cloth-bound, $1.50.
Sold Everywhere, or Sent Postpaid Free on Receipt of Price.
G. W. DILLINGHAM CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

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THE SINS OF SOCIETY

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THE LION AND THE MOUSE

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THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS

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HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT

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CHIP OF THE FLYING U

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