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VOLUME XVIII.
The Sunday Dispatch
IB PUBLISHED
OEM SUNDAE MORNING
AT 11 FRANKFORT STREET,
A FEW DOOES BELOW TAMMANY HALL.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE ; *2 SO A YEAR.
»gy- The SUNDAY -DISPATCH is sol.l by -all News
Agents in the City and Suburbs at FIVE CENTS PER
COPY. At some of the more distant points, the News
Agents are compelled to charge an additional penny, to
pay the extra cost of freight. All Mail Subscriptions
must be paid in advance. Canada subscribers must send
26 cents extra, to prepay American postage. Bills of all
specie-paying banks taken at par.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING :
A limited number of “ Regular Advertisements”
wiHbc taken at the rate of 10 cents per line for the first in
sertion, and half-price for every subsequent insertion.
“Special Notices/’ 12>£ cents per line for first insertion,
and half-price tor subsequent insertions. “Business
Would” notices ■will be charged at the rate of 15 cents per
line for each insertion—no advertisement taken in this de-
K artmen’ for less than sl. Reading Notices, under the
ead of “ Walks About Town,” will be charged 25 cents
per line for any notices of four lines or over. Extra
charges will be made for leading and displaying adver
tisements sufficient to cover the space occupied. Special
contracts will be made for Quarterly and Yearly adver
tisemenU.
and C’Jucm
Bissell.— “ What is the age of Queen
Victoria?” The lady was born in 1819,.and is now in her
Jiorty-thlrd year “At what time of the year and what
year was the Astor Place Riot?” In a»swer to a similar
question propounded by “-Geo. F. Blackstock,” in the Dis
patch of November 30, we said, “The disturbances took
place at the Astor Place Opera House on the nights of May
8 and 10,1849, while that building was under the joint
management of Messrs. Hackett and Niblo. The riots
were occasioned by a misunderstanding between Mr.
Forrest and Mr. Macready. On the night of May 8, Mr.
Macready appeared as Macbeth. Mr. Forrest was an
nounced for the same character, on the same evening, at
the Broadway theatre. During the first two acts a num
ber of lawless men hooted and pelted Macready, and the
performance was consequently stopped, it being consider
ed dangerous to proceed. Mr. Macready would then have
brought his engagement to a conclusion, had lie not been
urged to continue it by a card published in the papers
signed by forty-seven of our most influential citizens. The
appearance of this card caused the posting, on tire 10th of
May, of large bills in the most conspicuous parts of the
city, which were calculated to inflame the hostile spirit of
those who were prejudiced against the English actor. It
was evident to the authorities that unless measures were
not immediately taken that a riot was imminent. Tp awe
the lawless, the Seventh Regiment were ordered to pro
ceed to and surround the Opera House. Mr. Macready
acted Macbeth without serious disturbance, ami on being
called before the curtain-, returned hfe thanks to the audi
ence ; but before he left the theatre the military fired on
the populace gathered in the street, and the result was
that twenty-two were killed and thirty-six others wound
ed. The friends of Mr. Macready, fearful for his personal
- safety, Induced him to chaqge coat and hat with Mr. Ar
nold, before leaving the building. On the following day
be bade farewell to the city of New York forever. Many
of the rioters were subsequently indicted and tried, sev
eral of them being sentenced for various terms of impris
onment in the Penitentiary.”
8. W. A. —“ Can you give mo the
name of the first steamship that crossed the -Atlantic,
■whence she sailed, where built,.etc. ?” The first steam
ship that ever crossed the ocean was named the Savan
nah. She was built in this port, but made her trip to
England from the city of Savannah, Georgia, which place
»he left on the 22d of May, 1819, and arrived at Liverpool
on the 10th of the succeeding month. Of the days at sea,
ehe was propelled by steam ten and by sail ten. From
Liverpool she sailed and steamed to Stockholm, and
thence to St. Petersburg. In the month of December, of
the same year, she returned to New York- Subse
quently tiie engine was taken out, and she was turned
into a trader. Two years afterward, in 1822, she was
driven on the coast in a storm and totally wrecked.
8. H. B—— I.— ll’ engaged, it is
your duty to reject the addresses of the strange gentle
man. If, even, you were disengaged, it would be highly
improper in you to accept the proposal of a person whom
you never saw “ but half-a-dozen of times.” An acquain
tance at least sufficiently established to give parties an
insight into each other's habits and tempers, is necessary
before matrimony is committed.
Veritas. —Mr. Edwin| Booth is not,
we believe, at present engaged to appear at any theatre
in this city during the present Winter or the next Spring.
He may, however, enter into an engagement, and present
himself to the public many times before the commence
ment of the Summer of 1863 J. W. Booth is, we be-
lieve, the youngest of the suns of the late Junius Brutus
Booth.
Gotham.— “ Is a man eligible to the
office of President-of the United States after the age of
seventy years?” Yes ; if the people desire it they may
I>lace a centenarian in the Presidential chair. The limit
in respect to years, which the Federal Constitution im
poses on the aspirant for the chief national honor is. that
he shall be not Jess than “thirty-five years of age.”
A. IK—The office of the St. George’s
Society of New York is at No. 40 Exchange Place The
rooms of the Woman’s Association for the army are at No.
10 Cooper Institute.
Life of Andrew Jackson. By James
l arton, author of the “ Life of Aaron Burr,” etc. Mason
Brothers, New York. 1863.
The volume lie fore us is a condensation of the author’s
Life of Jackeou, in one volume, published in 1850, from
the octavo work in three volumes. Nearly every thing,
we are informed in the preface, in the way of document,
letter, episode, disquisition, note or appendix, has been
oinillt.il.; but the et-ury of the l|fe has been retained, and
the more interesting narratives, scenes and anecdotes are
■ preserved entire. As a popular publication of the domga
of the hero-president, we would have it in the hands of
every citizen in the land. Its universal pernsal would re
vive the patriotism of the people, and urge them to a warm
and unanimous support oi the government in the present
erisis. Could the.spirit of uncompromising firmness which
filled the Foul ot Andrew Jackson, regardless of party or
ru.. n move the people, the rebellion and the traitors who
haveslevised HV-«»u»a lK >on »».• placed under the heels of
the law, and the Union preserved against internal and ex
ternal foes for all time.
Mrs. Halliburton’s Troubles. By Mrs.
Henry Wood, author of East Lynne, etc., etc. Dick
.t Fitzgerald, pubiLhers.
Another of those delightful novels'of this lady’s compo
sition is bet orc us. It is a simple, domestic tale. A story
of the heart—of the struggles of a dying man—uncon
sciously so—to sustain by teaching languages, his fair wife
and young and lovely family of children. The husband
dies, at length, amid want; and the story of the bereaved
moves cm naturally to the end. At the darkest hour, light
comes to her. The troubles of her earlier life roll them
selves up and pass away, and the frail, loving, struggling
w oman descends calmly, joyously, even surrounded by
her children into the ” dark valley of the shadow of
death.” The story is without pretence • but its very slm
pleness—its naturalness, fascinates the reader, and makes
him unwilling to put it aside until the last word in the
last chapter is mastered.
The Edinburgh Review: October, 1862.
L. Scott A Co., New York publishers.
The articles in this Review for October are—l. Solar
Chemistry ; 2. The Herculean Papyri; 3. The Mussuhu-'u
in Sicily ; 4. The Supernatural; 5. Tlie English in the
Eastern Seas; 6. The Legend of St. Swithern; 7. Mrs
Oliphant’s Lite of Edward Irving.; 8. The Mausoleum at
Malicomesscs; 9. HopsatHome and Abroad; 10. Prince
Eugene of Samy; 11 'flic American Revolution. The
last paper is decidedly hostile to the Republic. The hope
of the writer is that not only will the south succeed in es
tablishing a government independent oi the Union, but
that the East, the tte.4, North-west, Middle States, the
country on the Pacific slope will break up into hostile
and thus the present prosperity and military
prestige of the American Union be forever destroyed.
The London Quarterly Review. Octo
ber, 18G2. L. Scott A Co., America publishers.
The present number is devoted to reviews of “ Les Miser
ables,” “The Platonic Dialogues,” “Modern Political
Memoirs,” “Belgium,” “The Waterloo of Thiers and Vic
tor Hugo,” “ Aids to Faith.,” “ China—The Taeping Rebel
lion,” and, oi course, an article* for no English review
would consider itself complete if it did not contain a very
ridiculous diatribe on the United States, and such wc have
in the paper on “ The Confederate Struggle and Reeogni
tlon.” We need hardly say that the v. ritor Ls exceedingly
anxious that the United States shall be broken up, and the
Southern Confederacy recognized,
* John Marchmont’s Legacy, A Domes
tic Story. By Mrs. M. E. Braddon, author of “ Aurora"
Floyd,” etc. T. B. Peterson A Brothers, Philadelphia
and F. A. Brady, New York, publishers.
This deeply interesting story, originally presented to th-
Tublic through the columns of J-emple Bnr t will be issued
n twelve numbers. The firstpart is now before us, and
we need hardly say that fit commences brilliantly. It
will have a Circulation in this country commensurate with
its merits.
Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine. No
x. v ember. 1862. L. Scott A Co., American publishers.
The table in this number contains, “ Caxtonia—Part 10,”
“The Scot in France,” “Chronicles of Carlingford—Part
10.” “Cloug/i's Poems,” “The Land Revenue of India ”
X “Thiers on Waterloo,” “A Deathless Love,” and the in
oitM oftbeAinerteanWar.” ’ * 1 '
PUBLISHED BL A. J. WILLIAMSON.
[Written for the Sunday Dispatch.}
WHEN WILT THOU THINK OF ME?
BY AMELIA.
; I ll think of thee when morning breaks
And ushers in the gladsome day;
’ a YVlien Nature to new life awakes.
And sunbeams on the waters play. '
At this bright hour I’l. think of thee—
Dearest, when wilt thou think of me ?
I’ll think of thee at noonday bright,
When lustrous looms the world below;
When hearts beat high with wild delight,
And eyes with brighter lustre glow.
At this glad hour I’ll think of thee
Dearest, when wilt thou think of me ?
I ll think of thee when t wilight dews
Are falling upon earth and sea;
When evening sheds her sombre hues
And day sinks to eternity.
At this calm hour I’ll think of thee—
Dearest, when wilt thou think of me ?
And at the lonely midnight hour,
When earth is wooed to soft repose—
When Nature seems to yield her power,
And night o'er all her mantle throws—
In di’eams my thoughts will turn to ti»oc—■
I .Oh, say, when wilt thou think of me ?
! Written for the Sunday Dispatch.} ■
MARY GRAY;
OR,
THE SCHEMER FOILED.
A TALE OF THE GREAT FIRE IN BROOKLYN.
BY J. WILLIAM VAN NAMBE.
Auihor of " The Faiihte-s Guardian," “ Delia
Howard," S(C., Sfe.
CHAPTER I.
Tbcre'e a resting place above,
Where sorrows never come,
A land of bliss and pure delight—
And th at shall be our home ;
If you’ll but hear the Saviour's voice,
And his commandments keep,
He’ll strengthen and support through life,
And blessings on us heap.
William Asxlakp.
It was just at the close of day, the sun had
gone to rest behind the hill-tops and cast his
last bright beams of golden glory upon tbe
waters of the bay. Tire evening star shone in
the blue ether like some lone sentinel, and the
evening winds murmured a sad requiem for
hours departed.
The dark shadows of night soon fell around
and enveloped every object within the folds of
its shadowy mouth. The moon, with smiling
face, looked down upon the earth, and a few
stray beams found their way to .the bedside of
the sick and dying. In a scantily furnished
room, near tlie Outskirts of the city of Brook
lyn, lay a man dying ; around his couch his
wife and children had gathered to tike a last
farewell of one who had for many years sur
rounded them with the eomforts and manj- of
the elegancies of life, for, but a few months
previous to the opening of our story, Charles
Gray had occupied a profitable situation in a
large mercantile establishment in New York,
but sickness had overtaken him, and his situa
tion in the store was given to another. The
comfortable little cottage which had for many
years been their home was exchanged for
rooms in a less fashionable and less respectable
neighborhood, and now he was- stretched upon
his dying bed—his Master had called him
away from earth, and he must obey the sum
mons and leave his wife and children to battle
with misfortune and poverty without aid from
him. As I said before, wife and children were
gathered around his bedside to bid him fare
well, for the Angel of Death was fluttering
over him. Mary, the eldest, was but fifteen,
beautiful in person and winning in manners—
“poor and beautiful’’—heaven protect her I
Edith, Ute second daughter, was but thirteen;
she was amiable aud lovely in disposition, but
her eyes lacked something of that brilliancy
which gave to iter sister’s such a charm, ber
hair was straight, and what some would call
sandy, but Mary often insisted that it was a
beautiful auburn. Besides the two girls there
was a boy, a lad of some seven years of age.
George Gray was a passionate, impulsive,
headstrong and self-willed youth, always get
ting himself and others into trouble, but pos
sessing, withal, a noble and generous heart.
Mr. Gray kissed each of his children in turn,
and then after embracing his wife and whis
pering a few words of advice to all, he sank to
sleep—in the sleep that hath no wakening,
his head resting uixm the bosom of his faith
ful wife when he drew his last breath on earth,
signed to the nafiow tomb, Mrs. Gray began
to look around her for something to do by
which she might support herself and children.
At first she endeavored to obtain a number
of scholars, but after a few days of tedious
travel from door to door in search of pupils,
she realised that she would be unable to obtain
a support in this way. One thing after an
other was tried, but all seemed to fail to yield
them evena scanty living. George seemed to
care but little how his mother and sisters man
aged to get along. Ms had made the acquaint
ance of a number of rude, unprincipled boys
who lived near- the building in which his moth
er’s rooms were situated, and he was a con
stant source or care and trouble to his uiTHCted
relatives.
One evening as Mrs. Gray and her daughters
sat sewing upon some coarse garments she had
succeeded in obtaining from a shop in Chat
ham street, New York, Mary suddenly laid
down her work and took up the paper which
had been wrapped around the garments; it was a
copy of the New YorkZ/erwM. She glanced has
tily over its contents as if in search of something
—at length her eyes lingered over the column
headed “ Wants—females,” and she read ad
vertisement after advertisement for cooks,
chambermaids, &c., &e., and she was about to
lay aside tbe paper, when her eye caught the
following :
■ Wanted— lmmediately, several young girls, of
! pleasing address, to learn the millinery business.
: Good wages given while learning the trado_to
i those proving themselves adapted to the btisi
! ncss. Apply immediately between the hours of
i 10 and 4at the millinery establishment ot Ma
i dame Grover, No. Broadway.”
“ Mother, mother!” exclaimed Mary, “list
i eu.” And she read tire advertisement aloud.
: “ There, that is just the thing for me. I will
; apply to-morrow for the situation, and doubt
■ not that in a short time I will be able to earn
i enough to support us all.”
“ The life of a milliner is an arduous one,
my child, and I fear you are too young to en
dure the confinement, but it seems that it hjs
become necessary .for ns all to do something,
and I suppose this is as good an opening for
i you as will be presented, and yet, I know not
• why, an undefined dread to have you apply to
i this place possesses me. ’ ’
“ Oh, how I wish that I could do something
■ • too,” exclaimed Edith.
“ You are too young, dear sister, but by the
| time I have thoroughly learned my trade, and
; earned enough to open a small store of my own,
: you will be old enough to assist me—you shall
■ attend to the customers. Until that time you
i must be content to assist {pother at home, so
that she will be able to devote more time’ to
sewing,” replied Mary, hopefully.
. | “ Yes, but the littlelcan do seems less than
: my share of the burden. Ido wish brother
1 George would get a situation in a store, in-
NEW YORK, SUNOAY, DECEMBER «1, IBG2.
steao o; running about the streets all day and
all the evening with those rude boys.”
At the mention of George’s name tears dim
med the eyes of the widow —for he was even
then out in the streets with reckless, vicious
companions, while his poor mother and gen
tle sisters were toiling for food to appease their,
hunger...
CHAPTER 11.
Ah ) who can say, however fair hfe view,
Through what sad scenes his path may He ?
- Let careless youth its seeming love pursue,
Soon will they learn to scan with thoughtful eye
The illusive past and dax-k futurity.
Kikke White.
The morning dawned, and Mary, after par
taking sparingly of the scanty morning meal,
arrayed herself as neatly as possible, and
star ted from ho;ne tor the purpose of seeking
employment. As she walked along the crowd
ed streets, she built many an air castle, and
arranged numerous plans for the future. After
crossing the ferry, she hurried to the store of
Madame Grover, fearing that if she hastened
not, the applicants would be so numerous
that she would be unable to nrocure the de
sirpil xitone iltld not lOOKcu <w vaa\>
date of the paper, and did not hnqw that it
was a week old—or in all probability she would
not have ventured to have applied. At length
she reached the establishment; she paused a
moment at the door to admire the brilliant
array of bonnets that were so tastefully ar
ranged in the deep show windows. She turned
the knob of the door, and entered. It was too
early for customers, for Madame Grover was
patronized by the most fashionable, and it
lacked a few minutes of ten when Mary en
tered the store, A large, coarse-looking wo
man, gaudily dressed,- and jwearing a super
abundance of jewelry, stood behind the coun
ter, holding in her hand a bonnet of delicate
pink silk.
“Well, young woman, what do you de
sire ?” she asked, in a shrill, unpleasant voice,
eyeing Mary narrowly from head to foot.
“Is this Madame Grover?” questioned
Mary, in trembling voice.
“ It is, what can I do for you this morn
ing?”
‘ ‘ I saw your advertisement in the Herald,
and called to see if I might obtain employ
ment in your establishment,” returned Mary.
The manner of Madame Grover instantly
changed, she assumed pleasant smile, and
in a bland,, insinuating voice, said :
“ Oh, yes, I remember I advertised a week
or more ago, and engaged several young ladies
at the time, but one of them has failed to give
satisfaction, and I discharged her last evening.
Yes, I think I can find a place for you—and
plenty of work for you to do. Have you ever
worked at the trade before ?”
“Nomadame, this is the first time I have
ever applied for employment in my life.”
“ Oh, I see—unfortunate. Perhaps you are
an orphan ?’ 1 and the wily woman watched her
countenance closely.
‘‘ I have lately lost my father, and am
obliged to do something for my support,” re
plied Mary.
“Yes —yes. I see—l understand. Well,
I think wc can make some arrangement which
will prove agreeable to us both. What do
you say to coming on trial for four weeks, at
live dollars a week ?' ’
“Oh, thank you, ma lame, I will came
gladly, and endeavor to do my best to please
you.
“ Very well, that point is settled now, how
soon can you begin—l am in a great hurry
and need all the help I can get; can you com
mence your duties this morning ?’ ’
“Certainly, as well now as any time,” re
plied Mary—her eyes brightening, for she had
not hoped to earn more than half the wages
offered her.
“ Follow me and 1 will introduce you t > the
fore woman,” and Madame led the way to the
work-room, followed by’ Mary.
'The work-room was a long, narrow room,
containing about a dozen good sized tables,
which were piled v.ith sitkey l-.v-’s. riifo.vns,
flowers, and every material, used in bonnet
making establishments* Over fifty girls were
busily at work. Some were plain, sickly look
ing -creatures, while others w’ere gaudily dress
ed, their cheeks highly colored with gifoe
artificial preparation, and their heads ..decked
with numerous flowers of ribbons and lace.
Mrs. Talbot the fore-woman, was u tall,
thin female of about forty ; her face w.is in
deed a fit subject for study. Dissipation and
late hours had shriveled up her once smooth
skin, and her eyes were sunken and dim, and
surrounded by dark, violet colored veins; a
vixenish expression marked her mouth. Such
was Mrs. Talbot.
When Madame Grover introduced Maiy to
fectly understood, and Mrs. Talbot engaged
Mary in an earnest conversation. As soon as
Mai y’s attention was fixed upon Mrs. Talbot
Madame walked to the further end of the
room, and approached a girl of perhaps eigh
teen, showily dressed, but with a pleasant
countenance, and said :
“ Kate, I want you to take this new comer
in hand, and find out what she is made of.
She’s young and beautiful, and if easily flatter
ed will no doubt prove a good speculation.
Sound her well, and play your cards cautious
ly, and this evening report to me.”
“Trust me for that,” replied the girl ad
dressed as Kate, with an impudent wink, and
tlie two separated.
As soon as Madame ten the I-Jom, airs. Tal
but conducted Mary to the tabld— beside which
Kate sat, aud after introducing them said to
Man-;
“ This young lady will show you what to do,
and how to do itand without another word
she left them together.
“Sit down,” said Kate, drawing a chair
near her side —which Mary immediately ac
cepted—and then she laid aside her shawl and
bonnet, and was ready for work.
Kate gave her some ribbon to make up in
bows, and while the two worked, they kept- up
a perfect stream of conversation, a portion of
which I will transcribe for the edifica-
tion.
“You have never worked in a shop before,
have you?” asked Kate.
“ No, never ; and I fear that I shall prove a
dull pupil; but I will give you no unnecessary
trouble.”
“ Oh, you will learn fast enough ; but you
are too beautiful to bo kept shut up in here.
Madame should put you in the store to wait
on customers ; then you could see something
of life. There are plenty of real fine chaps
come in sometimes, dressed to kill, and with
such splendid airs. You might make your
fortune out there. Oh, me, I wish I could be
out in the store. If I had one-half of your
beauty, I bet that I would not sit here at work
all day.”
Mary looked at her companion in perfect as
tonishment. She knew not what to make of
such language; it was new to. her, and for
some moments she paused. At IcAgth sho
said :
“Ido not care to see the gentlemen who
come into the store. I simply desire to earn
something to support myself and assist my
mother.”
“Well, I declare, you must be-a strange
girl, indeed. Not care to see the fellows!
Why, haven’t you got a beau ?”
“ A beau—oh, no ; I am too young ; I am
but little over fifteen.”
“ Why, I had a fellow when I was but four
teen ; and he used to take me to the theatres,
and buy me ever so many fine tilings,”
"<tarltss aitlr
Thus the day wore away. Kate continued
to talk in the same strain until the hour to
cease work arrived. As Mary passed through
the store to go home, Madame Grover handed
her a five-dollar-bill, saying :
' ‘ I thought you might need this money be
fore your wool, was .finished.-nad have con
cluded to pay you in advance.”
“ Many thanks for your kindness. I hope I
will be able to repay you by diligence to my
work.” And she passed out of the store with
a light heart.
(in her way home she thought of the con
versation she had held with Kate, and for a
long time debated in her own mind whether
it was best or not to tell her mother of it. At
length she concluded to keep it to herself.
She feared her mother might object to her as
sociating with such a person, and then she
would lose her situation.
“ I can,” she thought, “ forget all this fool
ish girl says, and it can do me no harm. I
will learn my trade as rapidly as possible, and
then, perhaps, get work in some establUKment
where the girls are of a better class.”
Alas! poor, innocent child, she knew not
wi'w'EJl'fvfiQfiiety she had cast, herself. But
He who rules ui... ~; il uo { KU ft e r the good
and virtuous to be wrongea. He will, during
the hour of trial and temptation, endow the
weak with strength, the tempted He will de
liver.
It was quite dark before Mary reached home.
Mrs. Gray had begun to grow alarmed about
her, and Edith stood in the door watching for
her return. When she reached the door she
held up the bill, and said :
“ Oh, I’ve obtained such an excellent situa
tion, five dollars a week, and I’ve received
this in advance.”
That night there was rejoicing in the room
occupied by the Widow Gray. George had
that day promised to seek a situation in a
store, and all seemed to give promise of a
pleasant future.
CHAPTER 111.
‘’Reputation! that’s man’s idol,
Set up ’gainst God, the ma Kit of all laws.
Who hath commanded us we should not kill :
And yet we say we must—for reputation 1
What honest, man can either fear hia own,
Or else will hurt another’s reputation ?
Fear to do base, unworthy things Is valor ;
If they he done to us, to suffer them
Is valor, too.” BenJoshson.
With your permission, gentle reader, we will
look in upon Madame Grover, as she appears
by gas-light. As I said before, her fashionable
millinery establishment was situated on Broad
way. It was some little distance above Canal
street, and in the rear, on the opposite side of
Mercer street, stood a high three-story brick
■ house. The doorway was wide and elegant;
- the windows hung with magnificent curtains of
luce and damask ; through the half-opened'
shutters, each evening, streamed a bright flood
of light; and a passer-by might readily sup
pose this to be the residence of some wealthy
merchant, and the brilliantly-lighted apart
ments might possibly suggest to the mind a
festive scene; but let us enter, and see for our
selves, this evening, what is going on within.
We pause for a moment on the stoop, and read
the name engraved upon the massive door
plate— Madame Wharron. Now let us enter.
The door is opened by a neatly-attired colored
woman, and wc arc ushered into the brilliantly
lighted saloon. In an easyjarm-clnir sits Mad
ame Grover, attired in a rich robe of block vel
vet. Upon the sofas, divans and easy chairs
recline a number of young ladies, whom we.
saw but a fc w hours previous in the work-room
of the millinery establishment, and there arc
some there whose faces we have never seen be
fore. They are all'dressed with elegance, and,
if it were not for the vulgarly lowness of their
dresses, wc might add taste. Conspicuous
among them is Kate.
Guests arc continually arriving, and, after
the lapse of an hour or more, the guests and
the young’ ladies have paired off and left the
parlors. Madame is alone ; but she remains
alone but a few moments. A visitor is an
nounced, and Madame rises to meet him.
“Ah I good qvening Captain; you are punc
tual, I see.”
“ Yes ; I received your note this afternoon,
and hastened to learn the information you had
to impart.”
“Be seated, and I will proceed. To-day, a
young girl applied to me for employment, and
of course I engaged her, as she is beautiful and
refined.”
“ Beautiful and refined !” repeated the man
addressed as captain. “Well, she has fallen
into good hands ; she will, doubtless, preserve
her refinement a long time.”
“Do not interrupt me, if you pleise,” replied
Madame; “she is young, innocent, and a
charming creature—just such a person as you
dZonvw vSfo to j an d now j want to know
what you intend to give me for an introduc
tion ?”
“ Say fifty dollars,” replied tlie Captain.
“Fifty dollars ! Do you take for a fool,
Captain Hart ? No, sir ; you’ve got to come
down with a cool two hundred, or somebody
else will.”
“ Two hundred for an introduction to a
pretty sewing-girl ! Well, well, Mrs. Whar
ron, I must say you understand laying it on
thick.”
“Not at all; not at all, Captain. There
are plenty of men in New York who are will
ing to give twice that sum for such a prize. I
tell you, she is a jewel. But here come
of tlie girls call in the store to-morrow after
noon, and take a look at her.”
“ I will do so.” And the gentleman left the
apartment.
A short description of Capt. Hart may not,
at the present time, be considered out of place.
He was a tall, well-formed man of some twen
ty-five years, black eyesand hair of the same
color. He wore a mustache, and when he
smiled displayed a set of teeth brilliantly white.
He was what is generally styled a “splendid
looking man.”
CHAPTER IV.
'• Dangers often hu k
Around the path ot truth,
Temptations often come
To maiden, wife and youth.”
The next day, as Mary’ sat in the work-room
sewing, she noticed a gentleman standing in
the door-way gazing intently at her. She in
stantly dropped her eyes and bent low over her
work to hide the blush which mantled each
fair check.
For half an hour he stood there feasting his
eyes upon her maiden loveliness and half-de
veloped charms, as if entranced. At length he
turned to Madame G rover and said :
“ By heavens ! she is a beauty.”
“ Aye, I told you so,”
“ Introduce me now, I do not see the sense
of this delay.”
“ N0,,1 will not introduce you until next
week. I must talk to the maiden first, arouse
her vanity, and prepare her for your addresses.
One week from to-night I promise to present
you to Mary Gray in my parlors.”
“Ha, ha! You intend to make her as vir
tuous as yourself, do you ?”
“ As virtuous as he w-ho would faia become
her seducer,” replied Madame, with a slight
touch of sarcasm.
“Well, well, have it as you will, -wc are a
precious pair, I doubt not the devil thinks.”
And he turned and left the store’.
The day wore on and the hour for ceasing
work arrived. Mary’ had put on her bonnet
and shawl, and was about to leave when Kate
said :
“ Can’t you stay over to New York to-night
and go with me and my lover to the thea
tre?”
'• Thank you for your kind invitation,” re
plied Mary, “ but it would be impossible. Mo
ther would worry and wonder what had be
ccmo of mo.”
“ Well, I thank my stars I haven’t got to
be tied down —I can conic nialga-when I
please.”
“ Oh, I am not tied down, but I prefer to
go home this evening.” And she left the
room.
As she proceeded home she thought over the
events of the day, and wondered who the ele
gant gentleman could be who stared at her so
intently that afternoon. It must be confessed
that she felt a little flattered.
When she reached home she found her mo
ther and sister in excellent spirits. George
had that day fulfilled his promise and obtain
ed a situation at a salary of four dollars a
week, and the future looked bright to the
widow.
A heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving went up
from the lone woman’s heart that night to the
throne of divine grace.
A week slipped past, and one day as Mary
sat at her work Madame came to her and said :
“ ""-j’ mu look pale and wearied. lain
going to ride this afternoon, ami would nixo to
have you accompany me.”
“ Oh, thank you ; you are very kind.” And
then, as if thinking of her shabby dress, she
stammered : “ I would like to accompany you,
but my dress is unsuitable.”
•‘Never mind your dress; the coach is
close, and no one will observe you. I will be
ready in half an hour. ’ ’
With a light heart Mary entered the car
riage, and they rode on until they reached
High Bridge. She was delighted. This was
the first time she had visited the place, and
everything charmed her.
It was nearly dark when they again entered
the city, and Madame insisted that Mary
should first accompany her home and take
some refreshment, and then be driven to her
home in Brooklyn.
Two ends were thus to be gained—an intro
duction to Captain Hart, and a knowledge of
the residence of Mary.
When they reached the dwelling they imme
diately entered the parlor. Captain Hart was
sitting in an easy-chair, reading the evening
paper, when they entered.
“Oh, Guy, you here? I thought you had
left the city for Boston this afternoon,” said
Madame, with well affected surprise. “This
is Miss Gray. My nephew, Guy Hart.”
The gentleman arose from his seat and
bowed politely.
“Takeoff your Bonnet and shawl, and We
will have supper immediately.”
“ Oh;.thank yon ; I fear it is too late. See,
it is already dark. an<» mori.uc wm iro,,
“Well, I will not insist. Guy, will you
please see the young lady home ? lam so fa
tigued.”
It is useless to transcribe tire conversation
that took place on the way to the humble
abode of Mary. Suffice it to say that Captain
Hart was polite and agreeable.
CHAPTER V.
So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity.
That where a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lacquey her,
Driving tar oil’ each thing of sin and guilt.
Milton.
The secret pleasure of a generous aet
Is the great mind’s great bride.
Drydxn.
‘ ‘ I wonder what detains Mary so late this
evening," said the widow, as she bent low
over her sewing. In another moment the
door opened ami Mary entered.
“ Oh, such an elegant ride! I’ve been to
High Bridge.” And a full account of the af
ternoon’s pleasure was given.
“ But who is this Captain Hart?” queried
the anxious mother.
“ Madame’s nephew—the most elegant and
fascinating man 1 ever met,” answered Mary,
with considerable animation-.
“ Alas ! I fear he is no fitting companion for
you, my child,” replied Mrs. Gray. “Shun
him, receive no attentions at his hands;”
Alas I poor woman, thy fears are by no
means groundless.
Bor weeks Mary rode almost daily with
Madame, and Captain Hart invariably accom
panied her home.
One morning as she left the ferry-house on
the New York side, she noticed a young man
following Her, She Had, for several days past
noticed the same young- man standing on the
opposite side of the street when she came out
of Madame’s house to enter the carriage.
She walked rapidly up Fulton street, and
as she turned up Broadway, > she cast a glance
behind her. The young man was close upon
her heels. At length he stepped up to her,
and said ;
“Pardon me, Miss, but I would like to
speak a few words to you.”
Mary looked frightened at first, but in a
few moments she was perfectly composed and
replied :
“ Well sir, proceed.”
“You live in Court street, Brookly, I be
lieve ?”
“I do.”
“ Your mother is a widow ?”
\ “You are a milliner ?’ ’
“1 am.”
| • ‘ For whom do you woi k ?
“ Madame Grover.”
“As I thought,” he said half-musingly.
“ Innocent, I will bet my hat.”
“Is that all you wish?”
“No, but you must not think me impudent
for asking you these questions, I am interested
in your welfare, and would serve you if I
could. Are you aware of the character of the
house you visit in Mercer street.”
“Ah —yes —my employer—Madame Grover
resides there. I often go there to tea after
riding with her.”
“Itis of this I wouldfcpeak. Madame Gro
ver is not the person she assumes to be. And
who is the gentleman who often accompanies
you ?”
“ Oh that is Guy Hart, madame’s nephew.”
“ Poor deceived girl, your feet are indeed
upon a precipice. Thank God that I am
privileged to be the instrument of saving one
so young and lovely from a terrible shame.”
“ What is the meaning of your strange lan
guage? Ido not comprehend you.”
“Madame Grover is a base, bad woman.
Her house is the residence of fallen women,
and thisi Hart is a base libertine, and he is
striving to rob you of your maiden purity. I
have watched you for a week or more, and de
termined to put you on your guard. Promise ,
me one thing. ”,
“ And what is that ?”
“That you will never enter Madame’s store
again:”
“Oh, gladly—gladly will I promise that,
and many thanks for your kindness in warning
me of my danger. ’ ’
“Thank me not, Miss. I have but per
formed a duty. I have a sister at home, and
I have done for you, as I would wish a young
man to do for her, if he saw her in such a
dangerous situation as you have occupied. I
will bid you good morning;" and ere she had
time to speak, the young man had left lief
side.
Harry Andrews was one of those noble,
whole-souled fellows that are at the present
day seldom to be found. He had observed the
OFFICE. NO. 11 FRANKFORT ST.
sweet face of Mary G ray on the ferry boat as he
passed over to his business, and he hd follow
ed her to the store one morning, and .to her
home one evening.
He was a fireman, and one night while he
was in New York, a fire had broken out in
MoHame Whanom’a establishment. and he
had at that time become aware of the character
of the woman who kept a fashionable milli
nery establishment on Broadway, and when
he became aware that Mary was employed at
this woman’s store, he resolved to save her
from probable ruin.
When he left her, she returned to her home
and confided al! to her mother, and with tears
in her eyes Mrs. Grey knelt and humbly
thanked the Giver of all Good that her child
had been saved from a terrible fate.
CHAPTEB VI.
“ The serpent failed to charm
The victim in his grasp,
And ere he'd laid his plans
She broke from his dark clasp.”
As day after day passed by, and Mary failed
to make her appearance, Madame Grover be
came worried, for she had determined to make
something handsome through her pretty ap
prentice, and Capt. Hart began to grow im
pn+.iftrft.
“ What has become of the girl ?” he said to
Madame, one morning about a week after her
disappearance from the workroom.
“No doubt she is ill, I think she will be
along in a few days. If’She does not come by
Thursday, I will send over and ascertain the
cause.”
This reply appeared to satisfy the villain,
for he turned and left the store without re •
plying.
Thursday came and passed, and Mary did
not make her appearance. On Friday Madame
drove over to Brooklyn to ascertain the cause
of her absence. She ascended the staircase
and rapped at the door of the room Mary oc
cupied a few days previous, but no answer was
given. She attempted to open it, but found it
locked. last as she was turning to retrace her
steps, a woman poked her head out of the
door of an adjoining apartment, and said ;
“Who do you want to see ?’ ’
“ I called to see Miss Gray,” replied Mad
ame.
“ Well I guess you won’t find them here—
for they moved out of this place several days
ago.”
“ Can you tell me where they moved to ?’ ’
“No ma’am I cannot; they did not say
where they were going.”
“Thank you,” replied Madame, and she
returned to her carriage in no very pleasant
humor, and returned to her home. When
she reached home she found Capt. Hart wait
ing for her.
“Well, did j;ou sect the., bird, and what is
the matter ?' ’ he asked.
“ No, I did not see her; they Trave moved,
and I can find out nothing concerning their
whereabouts,” replied Madame.
“That’s a pretty piece of business. By-
Heavens I I believe it’s all your work ? You
have done something to offend or frighten the
girl ; she has told her mother, and they have
become alarmed. I gave you credit for more
tact than you have shown in this piece of busi
ness.”
“ You are wrong, Captain Hart, I have done
nothing to displease Mary. Some one must
have interfered with our plans, and given the
I-girl the scent.”
j “ Well I must not lose this.game so easily,
i I have set my heart upon that girl, and I will
possess her at any risk. You must find out
where she is, and I will concoct some plan to
secure her. ”
“ I will do my best to serve you, but I must
be liberally paid for my work. It is a dan
gerous piece of business, and I cannot engage
in it without the prospect of making some
thing handsome by it.”
“I will give you two hundred dollars the
moment you inform me where the girl may be
found.”
“ It’s a bargain,” replied Madame, her eyes
dancing with delight at the prospect of so
large a sum for her labor.
Thus the two worthies talked for some time
and then parted.
-
CHAPTER VII.
There are some hearts within this world
Of sunshine, grief, and shower,
Sure and good as aught above
Are dew drops on the flower.”
■ Let us go back a few days, and explain how
it came about that Mrs. Gray had left her for
mer lodgings.
The evening of the day Mary met the young
1 man who warned iter of her danger, the family
■ were seated around the table in the centre of
i the room, Mrs.. Gray engaged in sewing, Mary
i embroidering, and Edith reading aloud to
| them. George had not returned from the
store yet, for it was during the busy season.
I A knock was heard at the door, and Mary ran
I and opened it. Before her stood her unknown
| friend.
“My name is Harry Andrews,” he said,
■ bowing.
“ Ah, Mr. Andrews,” slid Mary, extendin'*
her hand, which he grasped and warmly shook?
“ Walk in, .sir, my mother will be pleased to
see you.” Turning to her mother she contin
ued : “This is the young man who informed
me of my dangerous situation this morning.”
“1 can n«ver sufficiently thank you, my
dear sir, for your kindness to my daughter,
but be assured you shall ever have an interest
in the prayers of the widow and fatherless.”
“ I require no thanks, madame ; I have but
done a simple duty, one that I would wish any
man to do for my sister, were she placed in a
situation similar to that occupied by vour
daughter.’’
“I am glad to see you, sir, and hope you
will always maintain the upright and h®nor
able principles you now appear to possess. ’ ’
“Thank you, madame—but I called upon a
little matter of business. Knowing that your
daughter would be obliged to seek another sit
uation, I have looked about during the day to
find one for her, that she might sustain no
loss by leaving the employ of Madame G ro
ver.”
“Oh, thank you for the interest you have
taken in our welfare. ’ ’
‘‘ I wish no thanks, for my interest is not
altogether disinterested.”
He cast a sly glance at Mary as he said this,
which caused the blood to rush to her face un
til she grew as red as a full-blown rose.
“ I have taken a deep interest in your daugh
ter, and have no desire to conceal the real mo
tives of my rather strange conduct. I have,
found a small millinery store for sale, the sum
to be. advanced Was but fifty dollars, the rest of
the purchase money to be paid in monthly in
stalments, I have paid the fifty, and have h'ad
the papers made out in your name, which I
learned by accident. I hope you will accept
the money as a loan from . me, and take pos
session of the store to-morrow.”
“Ah ! my dear sir, we can never, never re
pay you.”
“ Do not say that, madame, I may ask a re
turn greater than you will be willing to be
stow ; but we will not speak of that yet awhile.
There are apartments over the store more com
fortable than these; I have engaged them for
you, and it will be well for you to move into
them as soon as convenient. ”
After a half-hour’s conversation, Harry An
drews left the room of Mrs Gray, and that
night the family retired to their beds with
NUMBER 6.
lighter hearts than they had carried /or many
weeks.
Truly, a wise Providence watches over the
lives of the good and pure.
CHAPTER VIII.
1 ?X. hen v jteprevails, and impious men bear sway,
rhe post ol honor is a private station.” Addison.
The Grays were comfortably settled in their
new quarters. The store was on Fulton street,
and the rooms they rented were partly over
the store, and partly over a crockery store, ad
joining the millinery shop. There was a quiet,
home-like appearance about everything, and
they felt very happy. One afternoon, about
two weeks after Mary had put out her sign,
she was somewhat surprised to receive a call
from Kate Graham.
“How do you do, Mary?” she said. “I
saw the sign outside, and thought it must be
your store. How have you been ?’ ’
“Very well, I thank you,” replied Mary,
coldly.
“ You left Madame’s establishment rather
suddenly. We all thought you were sick.
Madame went over to your house to see you,
but she could learn nothing about you. But
I see now—you had a chance to set up a shop
of your own. I hope you are doing well ?”
“I am doing very well, thank you. I tiul
leave Madame’s suddenly. As soon as I be
came aware of the character of the woman for
whom I was working, I left her employment,
and I hope I shall never see her again. ’ ’
“Well, I think Madame is a first-rate wo
man. But it won’t do for me to stand gossip
ing all day—l have got other fish to frv ; so,
good morning."
And, with a familiar nod, the low creature
left the little store.
When she reached Madame’s, she related to
that worthy (?) all that had occurred. Madame
immediately dispatched a note to Captain
Hart, and before an hour had slipped by that
gentleman was sitting upon one of the sofas
in Madame’s parlor, conversing with that lady
in a low undertone. They conversed there to
gether for more than an hour ; then Captain
Hart arose to take his leave. As he stood be
fore the mirror, leisurely surveying himself,
and drawing on his immaculate kids, he said :
* ‘ Be sure and have a room ready—about two
o’clock to-morrow night that girl shall occupy
it. ” And he left the apartment.
Let us follow him. He turned up one of the
side streets that lead to Broadway, walked up
Broadway three or four squares, and then
turned to the East, down one of the side streets
to the lowest part, of the city. He paused be
fore an old ricketty building, and entered the
room on the first floor. It was used as a bar
room. A row of bottles, decanters and tum
blers occupied a shelf on one side of the room,
before which was placed a common counter.
Chairs across the opposite side of the room
completed the arrangements here. A crowd of
poor, miserable beings gathered here nightly
to spend their few cents for liquid poison. A
coarse, red faced man stood behind the coun
ter, to whom Captain Hart nodded familiarly,
“ Well, Captain, how do you do, to-day?”
“ So, so,” replied the Captain ; “ come, Joe,
I want to see you on private business.”
“Walk right up stairs, I will be there in a
few moments.”
And up stairs went Capt. Hart.
He entered a room, the ceiling of which was
low, but furnished in striking contrast with
the room below. The floor was covered with
rich velvet carpets, the windows hung with
velvet damask, the furniture rich and expen
sive. A few moments passed and then the man
called Joe entered the room.
“ Well, Captain, what new job have you on
hand?”
‘ ‘ I have an important job on hand, Joe, one
which will require caution. Have you a trusty
man now?”
“ Indeed have I.”
“Well, I want the house No. Fulton
street, Brooklyn, set on fire to-morrow night—
there is a crockery store underneath, and a
millinery shop somewhere in the building. I
want you to have a strong man on the spot
with a carriage. What I want is simply this :
there is a girl in that building that I want,
and when the fire breaks out of course there
will be great confusion. During the excite
ment I will seize the girl, muzzle her and place
her in the carriage, and carry her to Madame
Grover’s, where she will be all safe. I will be
near the spot at twelve to-morrow night. Be
sure and have everything all right."
“ I will, Captain Hart, and if you please, I
will take a portion of my pay now, as I am a
little hard up.”
Captain Hart drew a roll of bills from his
pocket and handed them to the.man and then
left the apartment.
CHAPTER IX,
Tin: world’s a sliudow I sleeps f
The child of reason stands revealed—
When beauty pleads, when woman weeps,
ile is not man who scorns to yield I Hogg.
Night had settled down upon the city of
Brooklyn. Fulton street was deserted by
promenaders. Nb one trod the pavements
save the watchman or some -fast youth return
ing home from a midnight revel. All was still,
but the stillness of night was. ■ broken by the
cry of “Fire! lire! lire I” and the red flames’
shot upward as if trying .to reach the clouds
above. In another instant the streets echoed
with the cry of fire, and hundreds rushed to
the scene. At length the engines came rolling
along, and with the first came Harry Andrews
—a noble and daring fireman was he. As he
neared the spot he saw that it was the dwell
ing of his heart’s beloved that was wrapt in
flames. Just as the engine reached the scene
of action, he saw Mrs. Gray, Mai-y, Edith and
George rush from the burning building with
their arms full of goods. A moment and they
were lost amid the crowd, and Hany knowing
.that they were safe from the fury of tho
flames, applied himself to duty ; but ere many
minutes he heard the cry of “Help! help!
help!” The voice sounded as if the mouth of
the crier, was muffled, but he felt that it was
the voice of his heart’s beloved, and ho rushed
in the direction he thought the sound came
from. Just around the corner he saw a car
riage standing, and before it a man , endeavor
ing to push a female inside the vehicle. She
was vainly striving to obtain her. freedom.
Harry hastened to the spot and recognised his
darling Mary and Captain Hart. With one
blow he felled the latter to the earth, and tak
ing Mary in his arms conveyed her to a place
of safety.
The villain was foiled after all his f rouble
and expense. Just as the prize was within his
grasp, she was suddenly torn- from him. The
blow had only stunned him, and he .arose from
the pavement and sprang into the carriage,
and drove away with all possible haste, fear
ing that the girl’s deliverer might return with
others to arrest him ; but his fears were ground
less.
After seeing Alary in a place of safety, Harry
returned to the field of action and worked with
a right good will; but notwithstanding the ef
forts of the gallant and untieing firemen, the
flames continued to spread. .It was a well
fought battle. At length the Chief Engineer
was ordered to blow up some buildings, to pre
vent the increase of the fire ; but that gentle
man refused to obey the order, and the fire
raged on, spreading from building to building
with fearful rapidity, and no one among those
brave men worked harder than Harry An
drews.
As the fire continued to increase, engines

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