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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, October 10, 1869, Image 2

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likely Felicito had the money. Should he ask
her? No, it would bo so much better to men
tion the matter causually during the course
of the evening. Beside, why should ho want
to tell bis wife of every little trifle ? This was
strictly private buiness between gentlemen.
Thera'was no occasion to make a fuss about it.
The Saint Babylas bank was at the next street
corner. Ho could run tnere and back in a
moment, and draw out the money.
‘•May I trouble you to take a seat, Sir? One
instant only. By the oddest chance, I have
not as much in the till.”
Ho was rather vexed that it should have so
happened. It would have been better had
Raynal not c.ianced to light upon the till at a
moment when 1 there was such a very small
amount of capital therein deposited.
Raynal nodded assent, and taking a seat
with all the carelessness ho could assume,
prepared to wait for the chemist’s return. But
he was a long while coming. Felicito, busy
with some domestic arrangements in the par
lor, at tho back of tho shop at the moment
when Mr. Pomponney was departing on his
errand, now peeping round the corner of tho
blind which half covered the window in the
partition door, wonderod what could have hap
pened, and whether it were possible that the
smooth-spoken, wicked gentleman in the shop
could have it in his heart to bring her Hyppo
lite into any sort of trouble.
Meanwhile Raynal, beating his boot with
the light cano ho carried, and, in the old way,
gnawing at his moustache, called all his pa
tience to his aid, ami waited silently. But he
was doomed to meet with another disappoint
■ ment.
Before the bank counter, as the chemist
stood with the check ho had just written be
tween his fingers, who, of all persons in the
world, should slap him on the shoulder but
the jovial Joseph himself, looking even in
better health and spirits than he ever had
“ Pomponney,” said tho doctor, “ it’s an age
since I have seen you. How are you, Pompon
ney ?”
On Joe’s side it seemed almost like a meet
ing between long-lost brothers ; but the chem
ist’s manner was cold and formal. Perhaps ho
was, too, just a little bit ashamed of his own
friendly intentions a few moments ago.
It’s you, it it ? How you do, sir ?”
“ It’s I, sure enough. This little town has
not nearly seen the last of me. I’ll be the
making of this little town yet, if it will allow
iJsThe cleanly-shaven cashier smiled grimly at
these words. The fame of Joseph’s deeds had
spread far and wide, and tho great wooden
leg business was by this time historical.
Joe noticed the cashier’s expression, and a
sort of twist of the chemist’s features, and
went on. “It is not everybody in the world
who has lost confidence in mo, Mr. Pompon
nay. The results of science may sometimes
be defeated by fate or chance; but, in the long
run, sir, they’triumph.”
“Yes, yes,” said tho chemist, fidgeting.
Phis was his own style of talk, but he could
not put up with it from other people. .
“I have not lost all my friends, sir, think
you?” pursued the doctor, as though in an
swer to a question. “ Soma of the highest m
the land, sir—some of the best families in iho
neighborhood, still honor mo with their con
fidence, lam proud to say. Lonciong nob
bloss—lonciong nobbless est a moi. for the
rest I care nothing—backed by the Baroness
de Grandvilain, wiiom at this present moment
I have the honor to attend in her serious in
11 Indisposition echoed the chemist. “What
indisposition ?”
“Haven’t you heard?” said Joseph. “My
dear Mr. Pomponney, you should keep up with
the times. It is true that the details relating
to Mr. Raynads ignominious dismissal are
known only to a few of tho members of her
household, and to the medical advisor, wko of
course is, as it were, one of tho family; but
the broken-off marriage is now the town s
Mr. Pomponney crushed the check between
his fingers, and turned pale.
“Is this true ?” he asked, looking despair
ingly toward the cashier. This gentieman,
with a shrug of the shoulders, which seemed
to say, “ Understand, I am in no way respon
sible for what every one says," replied : “ Eve
ry one says so.”
Mr. Pomponney sank into a chair, and wiped
his face witli his pocket-handkerchief.
“ Thank Heaven, I heard ot it in time 1” he
exclaimed aloud, and then, as the other two
regarded him curiously, he pulled himself to
gether as beat he could, saying : “ I—l might
have done something I should have been sor
ry for.”
Joo and the banker’s clerk still regarded him
With fixed attention, but could make nothing
of his words. Indeed, ho might have kept bis
secret easily, had it not been too large for him,
and forced its way out, as it were against his
“ The villain 1 ” he exclaimed; “ho might
have ruined me. The atrocious miscreant I”
“What! Raynal has been trying to borrow
of you?” cried Joe, springing readily at this
conclusion, which seemed to him a very natur
al one, and just what would occur under the
“ He has tried to do so, sir,” replied Mr.
Pomponney, rising." “Ho took advantage of
temporary absence from the town, and con
sequent ignorance of recent events, and in tho
most dastardly and hypocritical manner, en
deavored to—to ”
Here Mr. Pomponney’s feelings got the bet
ter of him, and he sank back once more, and
Wiped his head.
“Was it a large sum he wanted?” asked
The chemist squeezed the paper more tight
ly in his hand. ‘"A considerable amount,
eir,” he replied. “ Perhaps not enough to ut
terly ruin me had I lost it, but more than I
should have liked to lose—much more—much
There was a disagreeable smirk upon the
doctor’s face ; for the truth is, Joe, when he
laid his hand upon the chemist’s shoulder;
had looked over it at the check he was filling
“You’ve had a lucky escape, eir,” said he.
“I’m very happy I was the humble instrument
Of your preservation.”
Outside the bank door again, Mr. Pompon
ney glanced rather uneasily m the direction of
his shop. It must be confessed that the task
' before him was not a very pleasant one. Ray
nal had not asked for a largo sum of money. It
is true that, large or small, Mi'. Pomponney
was perfectly justified in resisting any attempt
at imposition ; but then, after all, was he quite
certain that Baynal’s case was as hopeless as
was represented? Supposing Raynal was “a
good man,” as (the phrase goes, and Pompon
ney, by refusing him, made him his enemy tor
Half-way down the street he had a good
mind to go back and draw tho money from tho
bank. Joe was still there, however, and would
he not see through that little fiction about the
largeness of tho amount. In reality, Joo
would have done nothing of the kind, but Mr.
Pomponney’s conscience made a coward of
him, and he dared not face his old friend.
As he approached the shop, he gazed fixedly
at the upper windows, in the vague hope of
seeing bis Felicite. If he were only fortunate
enough to do so, he might, by some signal, at
tract her attention, call her out, and send her
back again with a message to tho enemy.
“You’ve only got to tell him so and so.” He
was rehearsing tho words he would say to
Felicito if he luckily caught sight ot her. It is
the way chat people put it who employ others
to do tueir dirty work. “ You’ve oniy such and
such a thing to do. Just say so and so, and
don’t put up with any of his nonsense.”
Thus our Pomponney could see quite plainly
that it would be the easiest thing m tho world
for anybody else but himself to put this fellow
Raynal off, and that most decidedly somebody
else ought to do it. While, however, he was
thus reflecting, time rolled on, and it was
ridiculous to thlpk that he could much longer
delay the evil moment; but just when he was
screwing up his courage to go in and brazen
the affair out, he caught sight of Professor
Polyblank approaching in the distance from
the direction in which he had himself come,
and, taking refuge in an archway, waited con
fidently for his arrival. What better scapegoat
could he have chosen ?
The professor came toward him with that
uncertain hesitating gait which was peculiar
to him. “What a poor beggar that fellow
looks 1” thought Mr. Pomponney. “ Really,
scarcely a creditable inmate of one’s establish
ment. We must see, presently, when things
have shaken down a little, whetner we cannot
make some change for the better, Mr. Poly
blank 1”
The professor started, looked about vaguely,
and at last came toward him.
“ You’re going in, I think ?
“You might undertake a trifling commission
for me if you have no objection ; and I have a
little confidence to make to you which 1 should
hesitate to make to any one with whom I was
not upon terms of close intimacy. Your long
residence under my roof may, however, to some
extent, justify the exception I make in your
Polyblank smiled and bowed, wondering
what he ought to say, and what unexpected
piece of good fortune was in store for him.
“The fact is, then,” continued Mr. Pompon
ney, “ that man Raynal, who was to have mar
ried the Baroness de Grandvilain, has just
come to try and swindle me out of a hundred
francs. I don’t want to see tho fellow. Indeed,
1 would rather not. I might forget myself,
and do what I shouldn’t like to do; and I
thought if you would tell him for me ”
But here the worthy chemist was interrupted
by tho strange expression of the professor’s
face, and by the sudden laying-of a heavy hand
on his (the chemist’s) shoulder. Turning
quickly, he found Raynal behind him with a
threatening expression of countenance.
“ He need tell me nothing,” said the subject
of the chemist’s discourse. “ I’ve heard all I
. want to hear. Don’t let me hear you say half
as much again, or I’ll break ydur neck for you.”
There was something so threatening in the
roung man’s tone and gesture as ho uttered
these words, that Mr. Pomponney could not re
frain from staggering back a pace or two, and
raising his arm as though to ward off an ex
pected blow. The blow not coming, Mr. Pom
ponney gained courage to say :
“We want no blustering here, sir, if you
please. We want nothing of that kind 1”
Raynal stepped up to him with set teeth and
savage look about his eyes. “ What have
“on got to say to me'?” he asked.
But it would have appeared that the chemist
had little to eay under these circumstances,
and was only too anxious to place a safe dis
tance between himself and his assailant. In
endeavoring to do this he lost his balance over
some projecting brickwork, and assumed a sit
ting posture upon a little mound of cabbage
leaves and other refuse. Here Raynal left him,
and strode away with a contemptuous smile.
“ You see, sir,” said the chemist, still main
taining his position among the cabbage-leaved,
but waving his hands with something of the
old grand style ; “you see tho sort of ruffian I
have to deal with.* I hardly know how I re
frained from chastising him as he deserved.”
Without pausing to inquire into the chem
ist’s motives for this singular forbearance on
his part, Polyblank hurried after Raynal, and
overtook him in a quiet by-screet. Raynal
heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see
with whom he had to deal.
“ Can I speak to you a moment?” asked the
The other with a bad grace stopped to listen.
He was in a sullen rage, and bad lost uatience
with the game he had hitherto playea so per
se verm gly. Every chance was gone by this
time ; tne mask might as well be dropped, for
there was now but little need of it. Why,
then, be civil to this schoolmaster fellow?
What use could he be of? What did he want,
except it was to scoff at him, now that he was
down ?
“You will, I hope, believe me when Isay
that it is not idle curiosity that prompts me to
inquire into your affairs. From what Mr. Pom
ponney said just now, I learnt that you were
m want of a small sum of money. I am not
aware whether alter—whether, under the cir
cumstances—that is to say, whether you mean
to continue to reside in the town. I thought
that in the case of your going, I might .
But X trust that you will take tais in a friendly
spirit, as it is meant.”
Had Polyblank himself been begging for the
money he could not have blushed and stam
mered more hopelessly, and to most other per
sons his meaning would hardly have been in
telligible. In this case, however, there was no
occasion for waste of words.
There was a small wine-shop close at hand,
which chanced at the moment to be empty,
and here they talked their business over.
Half-an-hour afterward, at the Saint Bab,las
bank Raynal presented a check for a hundred
francs, which bore the signature of Peter Poly
blank. By an odd chance, Joseph, who had
called in again to make some inquiry, was
present when the payment was made.
“That’s your brother, isn’t it?” asked the
cashier, when Raynal had gone, showing the
check, as he spoke, to the jov.al Joseph.
“There’s no doubt about that,” said Joe;
and, to himself, he added, “What made him
do this, I wonder?” But tne cause of the pay
ment was not what most interested the profes
sor’s vivacious relative.
“He banks, does he?” said Mr. Joseph, as
he sauntered toward his cafe. “He’s been
making a nice little thing of it lately, one way
and another. Well, I’m glad he has ; I’m sure
I don’t grudge him a two-sous piece, but I
don’t see why he need be quite so close about
it. It isn’t what I should have expected from
him. It isn’t altogether brotherly.”
Raynal, then, had at last got sufficient money
to enable him to leave the town. The sum was
small enough, and would but carry him a short
way on the journey he was about to undertake,
for there was no safety tor him, he thought,
until he should have placed the broad Atlantic
betwixt him and the threatening danger.
But without this money he could not have
stirred, for, during the last two days, he had
been almost penniless. At any rate, now ho
could make a start, and destroy the traces if
pursuers were already on his track. To get
down to tho sea-coast and over to England was
the object he had first in view. The place
where they wanted him most was tho last place
they would think it likely to find him, and
there he might be safe for a while, until he
could raise some money through a channel in
which he felt pretty certain of success, and
then take a passage for America.
At any rate, he could get away from this
hateful town, where every hand was raised
against him. In three hours, at most, the dil
igence would start for Calais, and he deter
mined that he would go by it. Three hours I
that was not a very long time to pass away.
Three hours, and he would see the end of
these accursed streets, in which ho had walked
so many weary miles and suffered such humil
iation these two days past. Three hours, and
danger would be left behind.
There had been so much to talk about in
Saint Babylas during the last few days, it was
surely no wonder if two insignificant travelers
by the diligence attracted but a small share of
public attention. A long while afterward,
when strange events had taken place, and had
found their record in the pages of the local
Gazette, this carelessness was not a little re
gretted in certain circles, and there were not
wanting those—Pomponney, you may be pret
ty sure, among the number—who made belief
always to have had some inkling of the truth,
and to have put this and that together, ana
formed their own conclusions. The oniy im
pediment these persons found to gaining uni
versal credence lay in the difficulty of account
ing for their previous total silence upon the
In justice to the less clever ones, who might
have seen so much and yet saw nothing—who
had every opportunity afforded them of gath
ering interesting details, but gathered none, it
ought to be fairly stated, at once, that there
really was nothing whatever at all peculiar
about the appearance of either of the travel
ers, and that had you not suspected that they
wore a mask and were not what they seemed,
they were as uninteresting a couple as you
could well meet with in a long day’s march.
In tho official list of passengers by the dili
gence were recorded the names of Brown, of
England, and Camus, of Dijon, and they were
both agriculturists. Mr. Pomponney at least
knew this much : they had come to Saint Baby
las upon business, and that business had some
thing to do with the cultivation of beet-root—
still more vaeuely described at the time, as
“something about beet-root.”
Whatever tho something might be, however,
it would appear that there was no immediate
hurry in the business; and when they had
made certain little arrangements in the dih
fence office, Brown and Camus thrust their
ands into their pockets and went out stroll
ing. Without making any inquiry as to the
whereabouts of any particular locality, they
strolled in what seemed quite a purposeless
sort of way up one street and down another,
every now and then coming to a stand-still to
stare about them, and then strolling on again ;
and surely no one in the world could have
looked as if he knew less what he was about,
and where he wanted to go to, than Brown, of
of England—unless, indeed, it were Camus, of
Such very common-place and uninteresting
loafers were they, however, that nobody but a
skittle-sharper would have been the least like
ly to trouble himself with speculations upon
their own account; and as no such disreputa
ble gentry existed in the good town of Baint
Babylas, Brown and Camus were allowed to
stroll unheeded, and strolled on. But in the
course of their wanderings they came to that
street in which Baynal’s lodgings were situated,
and, halting before the door, Camus, of Dijon,
“This is it.”
“Will gou go in?” asked Brown, of England.
“ I think 1 will.” said Camus, in a dreamy
sort of way. “ Will you stop out here ?”
“I might as well,” said Brown, in an absent
manner. “If you want me, perhaps you’ll
Left to himself, Brown, of England, lounged
against the house-side, and hummed a popular
street tune ot his native land. An extra up
rightness about Mr. Brown’s bearing would
have inclined a stranger to suppose that, some
time or other, he must have been in the army ;
but there was also that peculiar kind of angu
larity in his movements which a close observer
may generally detect about an English police
man when he has assumed private clotnes by
way or disguise. But he had such an innocent
sort of face, it was really like doubting the ex
istence of truth in any shape to believe that its
owner could mean mischief.
Presently there was a light quick step audi
ble in the courtyard, and in another moment
Camus was standing by Brown’s side; but it
was not at all the same Camus who had left
him a moment ago. There were still the light
curly locks and ruddy cheeks, but there was an
anxious, half-scared look about the eyes that
seemod to say that something was amiss.
“What’s wrong ?”
“ I hardly know as yet. I hope we’re not too
“ Too late ? The devil I”
So excited was Brown of England at the in
telligence his friend had brought him, it was
no wonder that he broke out into his native
tongue; breaking out at the same time into a
cold perspiration, and wiping his face with a
colored cotton pocket-handkerchief.
“Como along,” said Camus ; “we’ve wasted
too much time as it is. If we had not had the
misfortune to listen to that fool in the dili
gence we should have known all about it long
Not at all like the two slouching rustics of
five minutes since were Brown and Camus, as
they walked briskly away, talking together in
low, earnest tones. A while afterward, how
ever, with their old manner on them, they were
making inquiries at the diligence office. Were
there any more places vacant for the convey
ance to start two hours hence from the “Three
Crowns ?” All had been taken but one. The
three seats in the coupe in the name of Brown.
In the interior, Guenillon, Grelet, Merlot, &c.
Camus glanced over the man’s shoulder and
read the names upon the list. There was a
note against one : “Francois to get up at the
cabaret at Longanna.”
“ Is Mr. Francois a resident of Longanna ?”
asked Brown.
“ There may be more than one Francois in
tho village. Tho name is common enough.”
“To be sure. You might have seen him,
though, when ho came to book his place.”
“Ah 1 However, I didn't. Let me see, now,
how that was. He sent some one here to book
it for him.”
“Didn’t you know the some one ?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“There may be four or five hundred Fran
coises in the village,” sai4 of England ;
“ but I have a sort of conviction that’s tho gen
tleman we’re looking after.”
“If it is, wo shall find him without much
trouble. In the meantime, let us go on with
our inquiries.”
A hundred and one questions, pertinent and
impertinent, did our travelers ask in all quar
ters of the town before they seemed to nave
obtained the information of which they were in
search, and several miles had they tramped
before eventually they turned their faces to
ward Longanna at which place they had con
cluded they would find the person of whom they
were in auest.
Alone by themselves upon the marshes, a
wondrous change came over these persevering
pedestrians. They were no longer Brown of
England and Camus of Dijon, nor wore there,
as heretofore, to be found in their talk any of
those frequent allusions to trade and husbandry
which had been so adroitly introduced into
their conversation while making their inquiries
in the town. They differed from agricultural
ists in general in this respect, that they were
only reapers, not sowers, and it was out of
other peoples’ crops that they made now and
then a moderate harvest. Ugly crops were
these, springing up for the most part in over
crowded cities, in crooked lanes, blind alleys,
and back slums—rank and weedy crops of no
advantage to any one in the world, except to
the Brown and Camus brothernood, who made
their selections from time to time when there
were any particular weeds made themselves
conspicuous among the rest, and required to
be rooted out and laid by in strong stone boxes,
specially designed for their safe keeping.
An hour before the time the diligence was
expected to pass through the village, the pro
prietor of tho solitary cabaret stood at the ,
do.or of the establishment, and gazed despond
in gly down the long white road before him.
“It seems to me, he thought, “it’s going to
rain again. I suppose we shall be washed
away altogether before we've done. Well, if we
are, what odds ?—everybody’s money is under
water as it is. The question is, will it ever
come to the surface again ? In the meanwhile,
these are not the times to give credit. Bah !
how cold it has turned. I might as well go in
and shut the door lor all the custom I am likely
to get to-night.”
But in this last idea he was wrong, for at
that moment two of the villagers were plodding
heavily down the street with tho intention of
dropping m to talk over their grievances while
they drank a jug of beer; and hardly had they
taken their seats before a third appeared upon
the threshold. Not long afterward a couple of
bagmen, fatigued by a long and somewhat
profitless journey round some of the neighbor
ing villages, came in, called for drink, lit their
pipes, and cursed their luck; then called for
more drink, and, in a miserable sort of way,
seemed to be enjoying themselves pretty well,
all things considered.
After these a small farmer from a flooded
barn on the marshes, very despondent indeed,
called for neat brandy. Then a dark, hand
some gentleman, at whom tho customers
looked shilv from the corners ot their eyes,
drawing each other’s attention to him by
nudges, and nods, and winks. He also called
for brandy, and sat apart, biting his mustache
Undoubtedly times were bad, and the spirits
of the customers at a low ebb, but they drank
fairly, and what more could be desired ? Per
haps tho cabaret keeper was inclined to be un
usually down-hearted this particular evening ;
for, although undoubtedly he had been doing a
much better trade during the last half-hour,
and making larger profits than he had done
any other half-hour the last six months past,
he looked around with a gloomy brow, and
shook his head and sighed.
After all, things were not as they used to be. i
Would they ever be in the old state again ?
Not likely. Would he over again play another
game of cards with such jolly clogs as had
patronized his cabaret in those happy days be
lore the manufactory was burnt down, and the
village flooded ? Would there ever be such
parties of dominoes—such merry drinking
bouts, all at the expense of tho jolly dogs, and
very much to mino host’s advantage ? No
chance of it. Why, there were no jolly dogs
left above water in a circuit of three leagues—
that he felt certain of—nor any but long faces
and black looks likely to be found among his
customers. But here, again, was the cabaret
keeper laboring under a wrong impression ;
for again the door was thrown open—this time
to give entrance to a couple of strangers ; tho
first as jolly a dog, to all appearances, as ever
wore boot-leather, who introduced himself with
a “ Salut, messieurs, mesdames, la
although the only lady present was a little girl
of eleven years oi age, the cabaretier’s daugh
“Un joli brln do fcmmelote,” he told her
father they would call her down in his part of
the country, which, curiously enough, was the
cabaret keeper’s country also. Upon the
strength of this extraordinary coincidence, tho
jolly stranger and he shook hands very warmly,
and the jolly stranger, right off, ordered a bot
tle of wine, which be said there was just time
to drink before the diligence might be ex
“Ah I and another, too,” said the landlord.
“ Will you have the kindness to be seated, gen
tlemen, pendent que je vais aveindre la fine
bouteille ?”
At this phrase the brave Dijonnais laughed
merrily, saying ho was glad to see mine host
had not forgotten his mother tongue; but with
regard to sitting down, there were plenty of
seats disengaged, though no vacant table, un
less the strangers were to share that at pres
ent ocoupied by the dark, handsome gentle
man, who sat apart. However, whv not ? The
table was a large one, and the meditative gen
tleman bowed a gracious consent to the re
quest for his permission ; indeed, he could not
ao otherwise, for Mr. Camus of Dijon had such
a persuasive way with him.
The landlord was not long before he returned
from his cellar, carrying a bottle very carefully
in a little basket, and as carefully uncorking it,
saying, as he filled his guests’ glasses :
“Yous me direz des nouvelles de ce vinot; il
n’y en a pas de pared au pays.”
Cslt was a good bottle of wine, Mr. Camus pro
tested, and loudly smucked his lips as he held
a glass aloft between his eye and the flaming
“ And your friend,” said the landlord, greedy '
for praise, “ what does he say to it ?”
Tne friend said, “Tres bong.” He was an
Englishman, Mr. Camus explained—a gentle
man with great experience in agriculture, who
had come over with him from England to make
some inquiries respecting the cultivation of
beet root. It seemed from what Mr. Camus
said that beet sugar was now largely imported
into England, but that the consumption thereof
by the English people could be aimcst doubled,
and an enormous fortune made by proper man
agement. The question was, ought the sugar
to be manufactured in France or in England ?
Again, could the difficulty and expense of ship
ping be avoided by growing the beet root in
England, and could this be done as cheaply as
over here ?
These matters Mr. Camus and his friend Mr.
Brown ot England had gone into thoroughly,
and had como to certain conclusions which at
that moment they were not at liberty to di
vulge. Mr. Brown had come over to pick up a
few wrinkles, and thoso wrinkles had been
picked up, and Mr. Brown had got them in his
bead, and meant to turn them to account in
duo season.
Mr. Camus had, it would appear, not only
got his wrinkles in his head, but on the out
side too, for at times he had a haggard, thought
ful look, which made him appear old and wise.
Upon these occasions, when the crows’ feet
round his eyes were most conspicuous, it was
difficult to account for his beardless chin and
luxuriant locks, but when he laughed and
showed his white teeth he was quite boyish.
There was a rickety old cuckoo clock in one
corner of the room, which Mr. Camus ahuded
to as the “ dmdelle,” and by this it wanted at
least a quarter of an hour of the time tho dili
gence might be expected.
“But they are never punctual, I suppose?”
said Mr. Camus.
“Nover, by any chance,” the landlord re
“ There is time, then, for another bottle ?”
“ Plenty.”
“ As long as we’re not hurried,” said Camus,
“ca mo fait trop ailer do guingoi.”
When the landlord was gone, Brown and
Camus began to talk English, and of the two
perhaps Camus talked the language best.
“ I suppose our friend is right in what ho
says about the time,” observed the native of
•“I suppose he won’t much care, as long as
there is time to uncork tho bottle and make us
dub up for it.”
“ I suppose not. It is to be hoped, though,
the diligence will get in to an hour or so of the
time they state, or w’e shall lose tho boat.”
“ There’ll be the duso to pay if we do that,
and our friends ail waiting to meet us.”
“It’s no use to ask any questions of these
boors. I wonder now if this gentleman could
tell us?”
“ If we only knew whether there was another
boat to England later m the day. In that case,
you see ”
“But the gentleman won’t know anything
about the English boats. Everybody isn’t al
ways wanting to go over to England.”
“To be sure ; that did not strike me. I fan
cied at first the gentleman was English.”
It was the dark, handsome gentleman, sit
ting at the other end of the table, who was the
subject of these remarks, and who, by the ris
ing color in his face, seemed, seemed to be suf
ficiently acquainted with the language they
were speaking to know that they had reference
to him. As Mr. Brown, too, was staring at him
with all his eyes, it was scarcely possible any
longer to remain silent.
“ There is a boat to-morrow about noon,” he
said. “ You will have plenty of time to catch
“Ah! you are English, then?’’ cried Mr.
Brown, delighted at tne discovery of a compa
“ Well, no.”
“No I You surprise me. But you have lived
there a long time, no doubt. You must have
lived there, to pick up so good an accent.”
It must be owned there was nothing very ex
traordinary about his English, and the medi
tative gentleman listened a little doubtfully to
this praise, and fixed his eyes steadfastly upon
Mr. Brown’s face. Let the term of his resi
dence upon the other side of the channel have
been long or short, he seemed to have picked
up some of the insular prejudice. He mistrust
ed strangers, and might have taken Mr. Brown
for a swell-mobsman, with designs upon his
“ I lived there for a short time,” he said, and
here would have dropped the subject and
backed out of further conversation; but Mr.
Camus came to his friend’s rescue.
“A splendid country, sir,” cried he. “ Some
lovely spots in it. Some rich land, nobly culti
vated. You may have heard, sir, my friend
and I have been making some inquiries herea
bouts respecting the cultivation of beet root?”
The gentleman, yawning slightly, replied,
without the slightest show of interest, that he
thought he had heard something of the kind,
but was not listening attentively.
“Yes, sir,” pursued Mr. Camus, nothing
daunted, “ and that brought us into this neigh
borhood, though I must confess we have met
with a little disappointment—from a strange
cause, too. You see, a lady living in these
parts, the Baroness de ‘Grandvilain she’s
The meditative • gentleman’s eyes turned
quickly at the sound of this name.
“That’s it,” put in Mr. Brown, with a know
ing smile.
“This baroness, then, we are told, was to
have been married to some follow or other,
and ”
The landlord had returned by this time with
tho second bottle.
“ I’ve been rather slow,” said he. “My light
went out. I was afraid ot shaking the wine.
You’ll find it worth waiting for, I hope.”
“ And the diligence ?”
“No fear of that for another ten minutes.”
.“ That’s well. I have five minutes talk to get
through with this gentleman before then.
As I was saying Here, landlord, another
glass. You will drink with us, sir, 1 hope?
Come, it will do you no harm before your
“ I did not say I was going a journey.”
“Did you not? I guessed it, then. What
put it iu my head But as I was saying—
this baroness was to have been married to a
Mr. , Mr. ? What was it, Brown ?”
“Mr. Francois. Was not that what they
told us?”
The meditative gentleman changed color.
“ Why, what put that in your head, monficu ?
How you talk! It was Lenord, or a name much
like it. However, this gentleman knows what
it was, no doubt, if he lives hereabouts. A bet
ter bottle than the last, my brave; the best
I’ve tasted, too, since last Christmas time, one
night when we were merry-making at my fa
ther-in-law’s, and were singing. Do you know
this song, little miss ?
J’ai ouy chanter le roaaigno
Qui cliantait un chant si nouveau,
8i bon, si beau,
Si rcsonneau,
Il m’y rompait la tfite,
Tant il perchait
ht caquetait;
A done pns ma houlotte, .
Pour aner voir Aaulet.
What are tne other verses, little miss ? And
this diligence, is it never coming?”
During this time the meditative gentleman
had been meditating, with his hand covering
tho lower part of bis face, and his eyes half
hidden by the brim of his hat, pulled low down
over his brow. When tho song came to an
end, he broke silence, this time speaking in
“You did not finish what you were saying
about the Baroness de Grandvilain. What bad
her marriage to do with your inquiries ?”
“Ab, to be sure. I forgot what I was talk
ing about. On a great deal of the baroness’s
land round hereabouts beet-root is cultivated,
and we wished to ask a lot of questions of her
bailiff, if she has one. Do you know, sir?”
“ I believe not. I don’t know.”
“ Well, so they seemed to say ; and that the
land was all let out, and that it was a sort of
companion, a middle-aged lady living with
her, who managed about the rents with tne
“ I believe bo.”
“This baroness, from what they say, I should
take to be an easy-going sort of person—easily
“ Perhaps.”
“ But quite young, I am told, and wonder
fully pretty, and rich, too. She has a fine es
tate over tnere, in England. It was her Eng
lish man of business who gave us a letter of
introduction. But this diligence—is it never
The landlord had been standing outside the
house for the last two or three minutes, and ho
came in, as Camus spoke, to say that it was
close at band.
The meditative gentleman rose and walked
toward the door. Mr. Brown drew out his
purse and settled the account. The rumble of
tho diligence wheels was now audible, at most
a hundred yards off. In a few moments more
it had drawn up, with much jingling, jolting,
and bumping, m front of the cabaret door.
The people who had been drinking inside came
trooping out to see the sight; and oqo of the
farmers, recognizing a friend upon the roof,
called out to him loudly, as though he had
been on the top of a mountain, and ne bawled
back again lou lor still. The driver, too, was
bawling something to the landlord, and the
conductor, adjusting a twisted strap in the
harness, bawled loudest of all, byway of quiet
ing the restive horses.
As the meditative gentleman stood by the
side of the door, the only silent person in the
assemblage, Lis face wore even a more thought
ful expression than it had any time during his
interview with Mr. Camus of Dijon. AV as it
possible he wa's meditating flight? If so, why
stop so long to think about it? Why not run
and think afterward? Oh, if ho had only
known how precious was every moment, and
that the danger from which he was flying was
creeping stealthily upon him, to have him, in a
few orief seconds of time, tight within its iron
clutch I
A hand was laid upon his arm—Camus of
“You have got a place in the inside. You
must ride with us instead, in the coupe.”
“ Thank you. I prefer the other place.”
“ And we prefer your company.”
“ What do you mean ?”
“Don’t speak so loud, or we shall be noticed.
There is no occasion for a scene. I always
avoid that sort of thing when it is possible.
Suppose we speak English? You can’t begin
to practise too soon. You will want all your
knowledge of the tongue over there for your
“ I don’t understand.” the other said, faintly.
“Yes, yes, you do,” replica Camus, with a
persuasive smile. “You won’t give us any
trouble, I am sure; beside”—and here his
voice altered to a harsh, grating tone, at which
the hearer shuddered—“beside, we are two to
one, Pierre Raynal, and you are our prisoner.”
As Raynal turned toward him, another hand
grasped his other arm. He stood now between
Brown and Camus, each holding him tightly.
Tho precious moment was gone forever. All
chance of escape was lost.
“ Let us get into our seats.” said Camus. “ I
took three places, as I made pretty sure we
should ride together. It was almost a pity you
wasted your money on a place in the interior.
However, it cannot be helped.”
“I will get up first,” said Brown. “ Mr. Ray
nal can come next, and you follow. I have tho
bracelets in my pocket; but we have no need
of those, sir, I think. I dare say we shall get
on very pleasantly—consi enng.”
Without making any answer,'Raynal took his
place between the two police officers, to whom,
as the diligence started, tho landlord, standing
at the door, waved an affectionate adieu. As
they rumbled onward, his voice was faintly
heard above the clatter, bidding them bon
voyage. In this cry, the farmers, villagers and
bagmen joined in chorus, and to them Camus
waved his hand m reply.
“Be of good cheer, sir,” he said, turning to
ward Raynal. “Who knows? You may get
through with flying colors. There are so many
quibbles and quirks in your Jaws over there—
so many loopholes to s?ip through. Beside,
every one is innocent until ne is found guilty.
Eh, Charley?”
Here he whom we have known as Brown of
England, smiled grimly. It may have been
possible that he knew more than ho thought
fit to say upon the subject of Baynal’s chances.
Some time afterward, talking tho matter over
with a friend, he remarked:
“We should hardly have taken the trouble
we did to catch him, if the case had not been
tolerably straightforward.”
Camus, whom the wind had, perhaps, in
clined toward conversation, went on to inform
his prisoner that he need bo under no appre
hension upon the score of the legality 01 his
capture, as all the necessary formalities had
been most carefully attended to. The person
known by the name of Brown carried in his
pocket a warrant issued by a London magis
trate for his. (Baynal’s) apprehension, which
instrument was presently exhibited, and its
validity fully attested by the signatures it
The person of the name of Camus carried
another instrument, of French origin, entitling
him to be his prisoner’s custodian as far as
Calais, when he would be handed over to tne
safe keeping of the other officer, and taken by
him to London.
“But.” he concluded, “ there need be noth
ing unpleasant between gentlemen. Of course,
if you tried to escape it would be useless ; but
you are too much of a gentleman to attempt
such a thing; therefore, as my worthy friend
here just now observed, there is no occasion
for the darbies.”
Raynal, gazing fixedly into the darkness in
front, paid no heed to this talk, and scarcely
comprehended the meaning of a word that was
uttered. One thing only he understood: the
game was played out. All hope was over—the
last chance gone. After all his schemes, and
struggles, and agony of mind, he had failed at
last; and soon the jail gates would close upon
him, and God only knew how many weary years
of bis life be ground out within its pitiless
Half stunned by the suddenness with which
the capture had been made, he was as yet
scarcely able to realize the full extent of the
misfortune that had befallen him. In a few
hours’ time, in the loneliness and grave-like
silence of his cell, he would have time to think;
but now everything seemed like a dream.
The sound of the voices of the landlord and
his guests died away in the distance. Lights
flashed m the windows of a house here and
there as the diligence passed, and now and
then a door opened, showing the ruddy glow
of the fire within. At a street corner the light
of the lamps -upon the diligence fell on the
faces of a group of men standing there ; now
they had reached the chateau, which stood out
black and silent against the black-blue sky;
now it was past, and now they had reached the
end of tho village, and were out in the open
country beyond.
A cold and clammy mist hung over the marsh
land and the dreary waste of water, covering a
broad space further than the eye could reach.
The horses, in a cloud of steam, floundered
onward through the thick mud, and every five
minutes seemed to be coming to a stand-still,
and giving up the business for a bad job.
Then, urged on again by shrill cries and gut
tural oaths from the driver, they floundered
forward once more.
'The marshes past, came a high hill to mount,
with a steep descent upon the other side ; in
the performance of which the diligence zigzag
ged from side to side of the road, turning cor
ners with a dangerous roll, like a ship in a
rough sea. Down in the valley below they
came then on a sleeping village, with a church
tower and a churchyard, with glimpses of white
wooden crosses as the lamps lit them up in
passing. A hard-sleeping village it seemed, in
which the heavy clattering and lumbering of
the ciumsy vehicle woke up only one solitary
dog, that gave out half-a-dozen barks of sharp
remonstrance, and subsided into silence again
with a long whine.
Beyond this a broken country, and a never
ending road, with a straggling row of lime trees
on either side. Another village, then, and then
the same road stretching across more marsh
laud ; then another village and so on through
the night. At times, if such a supposition were
not too monstrous, one might almost have im
agined that Brown of England was guilty of
snatching half a dozen winks of sleep at fre
quent intervals ; but Camus was always wide
awake, and generally smoking. Did Baynal
slumber also ? If so, it was with his eyes open.
Yet he could hardly be awake—be alive to
what was passing around. It was like the face
of one who walks in his sleep—blank, meaning
less, with dull and heavy eyes, stonily fixed
upon vacancy.
When day broke they were still rumbling
onward, now over a dreary, barren country,
yielding scanty crops of reedy grass, relieved
at long distances by poor crops of wheat and
rye, and fields of peas and beans. Coming to
a halt in a quaint old fortified town, with moss
grown streets and crumbling walls and dilapi
dated battlements, Brown and Camus gob down,
helping their prisoner to alight also, and of
feied him some refreshments. Ho refused to
cat, but rook a long draught of cold brandy and
water, while the policemen solaced themselves
with cold pate and ale. Then the coachman
ea.led them back to their places, and they
started once more. But, as yet, the journey
was only two-thirds done, and there seemed
to be but little chance oi their reaching Calais
in time for the morning boat.
As though m a drcam ho heard the two men
discussing the probabilities pro and con, but
took no interest in the matter. What did it
signify to him whether it was that boat, or the
next, or any one ? As before, they were rumb
ling and jolting along the same endless lime
tree bounded road, and the same flat land and
stagnant ditches lay right and left of them.
The same melancholy villages coming every
now and then; a couple of lean dogs yelping
after them in one, in another a gray-headed
idiot running before the horses’ heads, and jab
bering and waving aloft his cap. A churchyard
crowded wiih wooden crosses, on which the
withered wreaths were thickly piled. The ruin
of a castle, one wall only left; a score of
wind mills, only one at work; still the same
long road, and the marsh land again ; but with
a faint salt flavor in the breeze blowing across
it, which told that the sea was now not far off.
At last the sea itself, the crowd of shipping,
the busy harbor and deadly-lively streets of
Calais ; and now Mr. Camus’ part of the jour
ney was drawing to a close. Some weary hours
yet to pass away, however, before the right
boat started, and these passed into a private
room of a hotel, the windows of which over
looked a sunless courtyard, much like what may
be found in an English jail, Mr. Brown re
Here, as they waited, the twilight gave place
to darkness. The lights tinkled upon the
harbor. Dusky forms moved co and fro in the
obscurity, hauling heavy ropes and rattling
chains. Men shouting from the shore were
shouted to by others from the boats, and now
and then angry discussions were carried on in
shrill tones—men and women screaming to
gether ; the men screaming the loudest.
The boat was alongside now, and they could
go on board for an hour before it would start.
That hour gone by, Mr. Camus had taken leave
of his friend Brown and the prisoner, and stood
leaning over a wooden railing, looking after
them as the boat receded from the shore. A
white, wistful face looked out toward him from
the deck of the steamer for a moment, and m
another moment the darkness gathered over
it, and Raynal’s features faded from his sight,
as their owner here fades from this history.
With the punishment awaiting him at his dreary
journey's end we have nothing to do, nor with
the details of his future life.
A wretched life, surely; with glimpses of
mayhap moments of forgetfulness found in
drink. He was a rogue, a thief, a coward. He
deserved his fate, you must allow; but did all
the world think so ? Oh, how he had been
loved by one pure, unselfish heart! And now
that she lay at death’s door, was that love quite
dead within her breast ? Who shall say ? There
are some loves so enduring, no cruel outrage,
no heartless neglect, can thoroughly crush
them out.
[To be continued.]
M&"Beaati£iil Continuous Sum
Extracting Ender (Jas Without Charge,
When Others are Inserted.
DR. BODINE, No. 190 Grand st.
pT To the Ladles.
The Married Ladies* Private Companion contains the
desired information. Sent free for two stamps.
Address MRS. C. HENRY, Hanover. Pa.
Found at Last—ss,ooo Reward for a
FAILURE.—A safe, sure, never failing and harmless
preventive without medicine, or in any way interfering
with nature. Call on or address with stamp enclosed,
M.ME. VAN BUSKIRK, Physician and Midwife. No. 4-i
bt. Mark’s Place, Eighth street, near Second Avenue,
New York City.
in'.erest on the Bonds and Stocks of the City and
County of New York due and payable Nov. 1, 1869, will
lie paid on that day by Peter B. Sweeny, Esq., Chamber
lain of the city, at his office in the Now Court House.
The transfer books will be closed Oct. 1,1869.
Department of Finance, Controller’s Office, /
New York, Sept. 24, 1869. 5
Fiorporation notice.
’L? PUBLIC NOTICE is hereby given to the owner or
owner?, occupant or occupants of all houses and lots, im
proved or unimproved lands affected thereby, that the
following assessments have been completed, and are
1.-dged in the office of the Board of Assessors for exam
ination by ail persons interested, viz.:
First—For laying Nico Ison pavement in Thirty-third
street, between Madison and Fifth avenues.
Second—For laying Nicoison pavement in Thirtv-third
street, between I'ifta and Sixth avenues.
Third—For laying Nicolson pavement in Twenty-sev
enth street, between Fifth and Sixth avenues.
Fourth—For setting curb and gutter atones, and flag
ging Fitty-eightn street, between Third and Fifth ave
Fifth—For building sewer in Ninety-second street, be
tween Second and Fourth avenues, with branch in Third
Sixth—For paving with Belgian pavement Tenth
street, from Broadway to University place.
Seventh—For laying crosswalks opposite No. 67 James
The lines embraced bv such assessment include all the
several houses and lots of ground, vacant lots, pieces and
parcels of land, situated on
First—Both sides of Thirty-third street, from Madison
to Firth avenue, to the extent of half the block on the
inter-secting streets.
Second—Both sides of Thirty-third street, from Fifth
to Sixth avenue, to the extent of half the block on the
intersecting street*.
Third—Both sides of Twenty-seventh street, from
Fifth to Sixth avenue, to the extent of half the block on
the intersecting streeis
Fourth—Bota sides of Fifty-eighth street, from Third
to Fifth avenue.
Fifth—Both sides of Ninety-Second street, from Second
to Fourth avenue, and both sides of Third avenue, from
Ninety-first to Ninety-second street.
Sixth—Both sides of Tenth sireet, from Broadway to
University place, to the extent of half the block on inter
secting streets.
Seventh—Both sides of James street, from Madison to
Oak street.
All persons whose interests are affected by the above
named assessments, and who are opposed to the same, or
either of them, are requested to present their objections
in writing, to E. B. Hart, Chairman of the Board of As
sessors, at their office, No 19 Chatham street, within
thirty days from the date of this notice.
Board of Assessors.
Office Board of Octi 8,1869.
7 NOTICE is hereby given to the owner or owners,
occupant or occupants of all houses and lots, improved
or unimproved lands, affected thereby, that the xollow
ing assessments have been completed, and are lodged in
the office of the Board of Assessors for examination by
ail persons interested, viz:
First—For building sewer in Fifty-eighth street, be
tween Third and Eighth avenues.
Second—For building sewers between Fifty-fifth and
Fifty-eighth streets, and between Lexington and Eighth
Third—For regulating, grading, setting curb and gut
ter stones and flagging Sixty-third street, between Third
and F fth avenues.
The limits embraced by such assessment include all
the several houses and lots of ground, vacant lots, pieces
and parcels of land, situated on
First—Both sides ot Fifty-eighth street, between Third
and Eighth avenues; both sides of Madison, Fourth, and
Fifth avenues, between Fifty-seventh and Fifty-ninth
streets; both sides of Sixth avenue, between Fifty-third
and Fifty-ninth streets; easte ly side of Seventh avenue,
between Fifty-eighth and Fifty-ninth streets; northerly
side of Fifty-third street, between Fifth and Seventh
avenues; both sides of Fifty-fourth street, between Fifth
and Seventh avenues; both sides of Fifty-fifth and Fifty
sixth streets, between Fifth and Seventh avenues; north
side of Fifty-seventh street between Madison and Sev
enth avenues; southerly side of Fifty-seventh street,
between Sixth and Seventh avenues; and southerly side
oi Fifty-ninth street, between Madison and Seventh
Second—Northerly side of Fifty-fifth street, between
Fifth and Sixth avenues; both sides of Fifty-sixth street,
between Lexington and Sixth avenues, and between
Seventh and Eighth avenues; both sides of Fifty-sev
enth street, between Lexington and Eighth avenues;
westerly side of Lexington avenue, between Fifty-fifth
and Fifty-rixth streets; easterly side of Fourth avenue,
between Fifty-fifth and Fifty-seventh streets; and east
erly side of Broadway, between Fifty-sixth and Fifty
eighth streets.
Third—Both sides of Sixty-third street, between Third
and Fifth avenues, to the extent of half the block on the
intersecting streets.
All persons whose interests are affected by the above
named assessments, and who are opposed to the same,
or either of them, are requested to present their objec
tions in writing to EMANUEL B. HART, Chairman of
the Board of Assessors, at their office, No. 19 Chatham
street, within thirty days from the flare of this notice.
Board of Assessors.
Board. «£ Assessors. Neif York. Sept. 28, IWJ.
V NOTICE is hereby given to the owner or owners,
occupant or occupants of all l ouses and lots, improved
or unimproved lands affected thereby, that the following
assessments have been completed, and are lodged in the
office of the Board of Assessors for examination by all
persons interested, viz:
First—For building sewers in Fifth avenue, between
Fifty-second and Fifty-fourth streets, with branch in
Fifty-third street.
Second—For building sewers between One Hundred
and Fiteenth and One Hundred and Twenty-first streets,
and between Avenue A and Fourth avenue.
Third—For building sewer in Fourth avenue, between
One Hundred and Thirty-second street and Harlem
river, with branches in Ono Hundred and Thirty-second
and Thirty-third streets.
Tne limits embraced by such assessment Include all the
several houses and lots of ground, vacant lots, pieces and
parcels of land, situated on
First—Both sides of Fifth avenue, between Fifty-seo
ond and Fifty-fourth streets, and both sides of Fifty
third street, to the extent of two hundred and seventy
five feet, running westerly from Fifth avenue.
Second—Both sides of One Hundred and Sixteenth
street, between Avenue A and First avenue; both sides
of Ono Hundred and Eighteenth street, between Third
and Fourth avenues; both sides of One Hundred and
Nineteenth street, between Avenue A and Third ave
nue; both sides of One Hundred and Twentieth street,
between Third and Fourth avenues; both sides of First
avenue, between One Hundred and Nineteenth and One
Hundred and Twentieth streets; and both sides of Sec
ond avenue, between One Hundred and Eighteenth and
One Hundred and Nineteenth streets.
Third—Botti sides of One Hundred and Thirtieth, One
Hundred and Thirty-first, One Hundred and Thirty
second, and One Hundred and Thirtv-third streets, be
tween Fourth and Fifth avenues; Fourth avenue, be
tween One Hundred and Twenty-ninth and One Hund
red and Thirty-fifth streets, and the easterly side of fifth
avenue, between One Hundred and Thirtieth and One
Hundred and Thirty-third streets.
All persons whoso interests are affected by the above
named assessments, and who are opposed to the same, or
either of them, are requested to present their objections
in writing to Emanuel B. Hart. Chairman of the Board
of Assessors, at their office, No. 19 Chatham street,with
in thirty days from the date of this notice.
T HOMAS B. ASTEN. fof Assessors.
Office Board of Assessors, New York, Sept. 24, 1869.
Notice is hereby given to the owner or owners, oc
cupant or occupants of all Houses and Lots, improved
or unimproved lands, affected thereby, that the follow
ing assessments have been completed and are lodged in
the office of the Board of Assessors for examination by
all persons interested, viz?
First—For building sewer in Seventy-second street,
between Eighth and Tenth avenues.
Second—For building sewers in Sixty-third and Sixty
fourth streets, between Fourth an-i Fifth avenues, and
in Fifth avenue, between Sixty-third and Seventieth
The limits embraced by such assessment include all
the several houses and lots of ground, vacant lots, pieces
and parcels of land, situated on
First—Both sides of Seventy-second street, between
Eighth find Tenth avenues.
Second—Both sides of Sixty-third and Sixty-fourth
streets, between Fouith and Fifth avenues, and both
sides of Fifth avenue, between Sixty-third and Seven
tieth s.reets.
All persons whose interests are affected by the above
named assessments, and who are opposed to the same,
or either of them, are requested to present their ob
getions in writing to Emanuel B. Hart, Chairman of the
oard of Assessors, at their office, No. 19 Chatham
street, within thirty days from the date of this notice.
Board of Assessors.
Office Boabd of Assessors, New York, September
15, 1869.
J property for unpaid taxes and Croton water rents
Public notice is hereby given that a sale of property for
unptfid taxes, for the years 1881 and 1865, and for regular
rents for Croton water for the years 1863 and 1-664, will
take place at auction at the City Hail, in tne city of New
York, on Thursday, the 14th day of Novemlier next, at
12 o’clock noon, and continue from day to da- until the
whole of s id property shall bo sold. And that the
detailed statement of the property so to be sold for
unpaid tnxes and Croton water reais is published in a
pamphlet, and deposited in the office of the Clerk of
Arrears in the Comptroller's Office, also in the office of
the Receiver of Taxes of the city of New York, where
the said pamphlets will be delivered to any person ap
plying therefor.
City of New York, July 31,1869.
By order of R. B. CONNOLLY, Comptroller.
A. S. Cady. Clerk of Arrears.
V7 Defa'atmenc of Finance, ]
Bureau of the Receiver of Taxes, !
Court House, Park, j
No. 32 Chambers street, Oct. u, i869.J
NOTICE TO Taxpayers -The Book* for Taxes on
Personal Property will ho opened for payment at this oi
fice on Thursday next, October 7.
The Books lor payment of Taxes on Bank Stock will be
oi e ltd on Monday, October 11.
uu j notice will Le given when the Books for Real Es
ta.e will be ready.
Wdtal tod#.
tanic cordial restores the vigor of youth iu ten days;
gives health, strength and vigor to the most debilitated.
New office. No. 56 Bond street.
one door from Bowery (late of No. 3 Division street),
cun cure worst cases of private diseases, without mer
cury, in shorter time than any other physician, or no
charge. Consultation and medicine, $5.
DR. EVANS’ remedies
MEN’S DIFFICULTIES never disappoint. Price
$5. No. 94 Chatham st.
Advice to ladies in trouble.—
Alexander Dion, M. D., No. 25 Amity street, the
famous French Professor of Midwifery and Diseases of
Women in the Ciiniqucs of Paris, c n oe consulted by
unfortunate ladies who have imprudently got into trou
ble or become diseased in any way. Dr. Dion’s method
of treatment for periodical irregularities is the safest,
quickest and best which can be employed. It is entirely
free from harm. One interview for married ladies is all
that is required. Dr. Dion’s office is aamirably arranged
tor private consultations at all hours, day and night. Dr.
Dion is the discoverer of the celebrated preventive, which
is a sure safeguard against any difficulty that may arise
from imprudence. Ladies are respectfully invited to cail
and examine specimens, free ot charge. Dr. Dion has
elegant accommodations for ladies who desire nursing
ana adoption for their infants. Consultations by mail
strictly confidential and promptly answered. Address
No. 25 Amity street. New York Oily.
Always sure—a patient
WRITES: “I spent S4O for drugs. All failed.
Electricity relieved me in ten minutes without pain.”
Dr. and Madame DUBOIS. No. 154 East Twenty-pig hth
St., near Third Ave. Exclusive board and attendance.
Relief positive. No deception. No quackory.
Ladies, with or without medicine, by Madame
KESTELL, Professor of Midwifery: over 30 years’ prac
tice. Her infallible French Female Pills, No. 1, price Si.
or No. 2. specially prepared for married ladies, price $5,
which can never fail, are saie and healthy. Sold only at
her office, No. 1 East Fifty-second street, first door from
Fifth avenue, and at Druggist’s, No. 152 Greenwich
street, or sent by mail. Caution—All others are coun
A sure and reliable medicine, under all circum
stances, for removing obstructions and suppressions.
Spanish Female Pills, $2 00 per box. French Sugar
coated (stronger) Pills, $3 00 per box. Periodical Drops,
$2 CO per vial. Womb Guards, $3 00 each. Syringes of
all kinds from $1 00 to $lO 00 each. Ladies, the above
remedies are invaluable. Medicines for gentlemen put
up in $5 and $lO packages. Invigorating Cordial for
nervous debility and seminal weakness, never fails, $1 50
and $3 00 per bottle. Gentlemen’s genuine A No. 1 con
veniences, under all circumstances, price, two for $1 00,
or $6 00 per dozen. I can be consulted at my office on
all diseases of a delicate nature by ladies or gentlemen.
Scientific treatment guaranteed to all. GEORGE R.
BOND, M. D., No. 65 Orchard, cor. Grand street, over
Tea store, hn trance on < »rcliard st. Established in 1832.
Unfortunate 'fem
ans, No. 94 Chatham st., removes trouble at one
Reader, this article may not concern you at all. If you
have never suffered from disease of the organs of genera
tion, such as Spermalorrhotra, Seminal Losses, Involuntary
emissions, it is not necessary for you to read this. If you
are suffering or have suffered from Involuntary Dis
charges, what-effect does it produce upon your general
health ? Do you feel weak, debilitated, easily tired ?
Does a pttle extra exertion produce palpitation of the
heart? Does your liver or urinary organs oryour kidneys
frequently get out of order? Is your urine sometimes
thick, milky or flocky. or is it ropy on settling? Or
does a thick scum rise to the top ? Or a sediment in
the bottom after it hag stood a while ? Do you have spells
of short breathing or dy&pevsia? Are your bowels con
stipated? Do you have spells of fainting, or rushes of
blood to the head ? Is your memory impaired ? Is your
mind constantly .dwelling upon this euoiect? Do you
feel listless, moping, tired of company, of life ? Do you
wish to be leit alone—to get away from everybody? Does
any little thing make you start or jump? Is your sleep
broken or restless?. Do you discharge drops of semen
before or after making water, or during your stool, or at
night? Or have you 'become impotent; lost all feeling
for the opposite sex ? Do vou often feel ashamed of
yourself, thinking that everybody that looks at you knows
what is the matter with you? Is the lustre of your eye
as brilliant? The bloom on your cheek as bright ? Do
you enjoy yourself in society as well ? Do you pursue
your business with the same energy? Do you feel as
much confidence in yourself ? Are your spirits dull and
flagging, given to fits of melancholy ? If so, do not lay
it to your Liver or Dyspepsia. Have you restless nights?
Your back weak, knees weak, and have but little appe
tite, and you attribute this to Dyspepsia or Liver Com-
S’ • t? Did you ever tell your doctor that you had prac
masturbation, or that you had suffered from badly
cured gonorrhea, or syphillis, or from venereal excesses?
Perhaps vdu never thought of confiding those things to
him; and if you bad, it is a question whether his mod
esty would have allowed him to question you closely on
the point for fear of offending you; and if he had ex
pected anythmd of the kind, being your family physician
he durst not for the world have hinted at tho thing for
fear of your becoming indignant and insulted. ’
Now, reader, seif-abuse, venereal diseases badly cured
and sexual excesses, are ah capable of producing a weak
ness of the.generative organs. The organs of genera
tion. when in perfect health, make the man. Did you
ever think that those bold, defiant, energetic, persever
ing, successful business men are always those whose
generative organs are in perfect health ? You never hear
such men complain of being melancholy, of nervousness,
of palpitation of the heart. They are never afraid they
cannot succeed in business: they don’t become sad and
discouraged; they are always polite and pleasant in the
company of ladies, and look you and thorn right in the
face—none of your down looks or any other meanness
about them. Ido not mean those men who keep these
organs inflamed by running to excess. These will not
only ruin their constitutions, but also those they do busi
ness with or for. x
How many men from badly-cured private diseases,
from the effects of self-abuse and excesses, have brought
about that state of weakness m these organs, that has
reduced the general system so much as to induce almost
every other disease—ioioev, lunacy, paralysis, spinal affec
tion, suicide, and almost every other form of disease
which humanity is heir to, and the real cause of the
trouble scarcely ever suspected and have doctored for all
I ”TO iI THE h YoUSG, MIDDLE-AGED, and evon OLD,
who are destroying their Physical Strength and Mental
Happiness by their uncontroled passions, cr who are al
ready weakened and impotent by the fully of the past,
why do you suffer when you must know the sure result it
you allow the disease to ruin and debase you, mind and
body? If. you would avoid this disease, which renders
marriage improbable, or the married life failure, be
warned in time, and let no/aMe moaesty keep you from
making known your troubles and receiving a sure and
Ming cure. I have cured THOUSANDS and will you, if
you call in season. A short time under my treatment
will make you a new man, and send you forth into the
world an honor to your sex, and, I tnist. ji to
mankind. ALBERT LEWIS, M. D.,
Author of the "Medical Companion and Guide to
Health,” can be confidentially consulted at his old estab
lished office. No. 7 BEACH STREET, near West Broad
way, New York.
O nee nours from 9A.M. to BP. M. Sundays, from 10
A. m. to 12 M. ‘(Copyrighted.)
Manhood : how lost, how re
stored -Just Published by DR. LEWIS, (254
TO HEALTH, on the radical cure of Spermatorrhcea, or
Seminal Weakness, Involuntary Seminal Losses, Impo
tency, Mental and Physical Incapacity, Impediments to
Marriage, etc., and the Venereal and Syphilitic Maladies,
with plain and clear directions for the speedy cure of
Secondary Symptoms, Gonorrhoea, Gleets, Strictures,
and ail diseases of the skin, such as Scurvy, Scrofula,
Ulcers, Boils, Blotches and Pimples on the face and
body. Consumption, Epilepsy, and Fits, induced by
self-indulgence or sexual extravagance.
The celebrated author, in this admirable Treatise
clearly demonstrates from a thirty years’ successful prac
tice, that the alarming consequences of self-abuse may
be radically cured: pointing out a mode of cure at once
simple, certain, and effectual, by means of which every
sufferer, no matter what his condition may be, can be
effectually cured cheaply, privately, and radically.
This Book should be in the hands of every youth
and every man in the land.
Sent under seal, in a plain envelope. Price 50 cents.
DR, LEYflB* street, tyew Ywlfc
Sunday Edition. Oct. 10.
LARS for any case of the follow
mg diseases which the medical facul
a.v9^o.n,Q?nc°d incurable that
DIES will not radically cure. Dr. Ri- / \
cbau»’ Golden Balsam No. 1 will euro / \
Syphilis in its Primary and Secondary I
stages, such as old Ulcers and Ulcer- \ /
ated Sore Throat, Sore Eyes, Skin \ /
Eruptions, Soreness of the Scalp, and \ J
all stages of the disease, eradicating
diseahe and mercury
Price, $5 per botttle, or two bottles $9.
Dr. Ricnaus Golden Balsam No. 2 will cure the third
®! a F??t. or " er . tlar y Syphilis, where Syphilitic and Mercu
rial Rheumatism are connected with the Primary and
Mcoondary. I have hundreds of certificates where mi
raculous cures have been effected by these remedies.
Patients eat and drink what they like, and require no
applications. Hundreds suffer from Syphilitic
Rheumatism who are not aware of it,
to obtain a radical euro without the
4 T?h.. me ? lc i ne - lts benoflciftl effects are leitat
lift vo if; 8 r, r ?l sed ren from hospital-beds in one week,
m tho c^tv 1 r t e h for J. cars ? nder the best Practitioners
ease KnowA-Svnhil 1 }: °pK r «d i C“' cure for tue worst dia
ler $9 °lt saves h vour«al? C? ; r ’ er bottle . or two bottles
{ho taint o/thiss^ourgl'- 14 “ vcs offsD rinsr from
Dr. Richaus’ Golden Antidote, a safe, speedy, pleasant,
and radical cure for Gonorrhoea, Gleet, Irritation, Gravel,
and all urinary derangements, accompanied with full di
rections. Warranted to cure. Price, $3 per bottle.
Dr. Richaus Golden Elixir de Amour, a radical cure
SP e w»?to r hoea .General Debility in old or young.
Vl +u‘ lty ai l d ? m P» r 'ins energy with wonderful
effect to those who have led a life of sensuality or self
is.invaluble to those who are \2io J 8 fo7
] n famll y. Nothing more certain in its
J 3 composed of the most powerful in
gredients of the vegetable kingdom Harmless, bub
speedy in restoring heath. Price, $5 per bottle, or two
bottles for’ $9. T ade snnnlied ar. a liberal discount. 4
direSns? Irr <«ularities. Price. $lO per bottle, witfi
Un receipt of pr oe. these remedies will ba shipped to
any pari iree lr ;m observation; corres.,on lenti an
swered confidentially ; hours fu- consu.t >tion. 9 A. M. to
9P. M.; none genuine without uami oi Dr. Richaus*
Golden Kemefie,. D. B. Kichards, Sole Pro r-etor.
bo vn m gla eof bottles. Obstrie well trade mark on
outside wrapper ten Signature < on inside label.
Addr?t's Lr. D. B. RIOrIARDS, No. 228 Varick etreat,
N’piw York citv.
Senl money by Post office order, express or draft.
Goods sen; C. O. D.
TO SADIES.—Dr I * Evans’ Powerful Pill?
a ? d -n Drop ?- .safe, certain. AU whosa
neaKh will not permit of their becoming mothers, cull
OL?^fesß_Br._Eyan8 L No. 94 Chatham st., N. Y.
A. luvahd, if mu wish reaular medical treatment, con
suit Dr. DUBOIS. No. 154 East T*en v-eigutn street,
street, New York, and you will be guaranteed safe, cer
tain and immediate relief—one mtmi-.w. Advioe grads.
Remedies for female derangements, from 81 to $5.
Monthly Regulators. $5. Confidential advice and medi
cine per mail. Twenty years successful practice: no de
ception or quackery. N. n.—Mme. D. will consult with
ladies who prefer meeting their own ssx, or kindly care
forth o c e desiring home attention during treatment.
JU at home, can be provided with superior board, nurs
ing, and medical attendance during confinement and
their children adopted to good homes, if desired.
'DR- DURANT, No. 7 Beach st.. N. Y.
consult DR. LEWIS; he guarantees that none
v?i^nrnna V h^kn are Lu ntl fn CUr - ed an r rest ored to sound and
IMo! “ “ N °’ 7 Beach s4reet ’ nsar
A great Medical discovery?
for Married and Single Ladies, without fail, dan
ger or pain. Private diseases of either sex cured scien
tifically; treated in the same style as in French and Ger
man hospitals, without mercury. Office very private:
coMiillahcn iroe. DK. FRANKLIN, lata oi Russia,
No. 149 Bleecker street, New York.
French inventions for
Save hundred times cosu $3 per dozen, at No. 94
unathani su, N. Y.
men using Dr. Evans' Life Elixir, a guaranteed
cure. No. 94 Chatham street, N. Y.
GRINDLE, No. 129 West Twenty-sixth street
near Sixth avenue, Having twenty years successful and
uninterrupted practice in this city, guarantees certain
relief to all ladies requiring special treatment from
whatever cause produced. His safe and never-fail ng
mode of treatment is indorsed by the highest medical
faculty, and unknown to all others. Elegant rooms for
ladies about to require nursing. Good homes can be
procured lor infants.
X-P gentlemen, ab $3. $4, and $5 pm- dozen, three for
91, four for sl. Ladies’ Protectors, $3 each. Circulars
>ree. Call on or address Dr. MANCHEB. No. 651 Broad
L” ty and all other special diseases scientifically and
suocesifully treated by Dr. LEWIS, No. 7 Beach street.
No case undertaken, or fee accepted, unloss a cure can be
guaranteed. Established in 1840.
DUBOI3, Professor of Midwifery, twenty-five
years successful practice, guarantees relief at one
interview, with or withoutimedicine. Her family medi
cines. $5. No. I’4 East Twenty-eighth street, west of
Third avenue. No deception. No quackery.
▼ ▼ Eyani, No. 94 Chatham st., N. Y. His Female
Puls and Drops give unfailing relief, without suffering
or publicity; successful at one trial.
between Sixth and Seventh st«. Infallible ac
couchment under all circumstances, at the least terms
also infallible cures of all sexual, private, cutaneous and
rheumatic diseases, etc., etc.
JU with or without medicine. Regulating Pills, $5,
sure and safe. Address or call on Dr. MANCHEB, No.
631 Broadway.
11 street, near West Broadway, can be consulted daily
from 9 A. M. to 8 P. M., and on Sundays from 1U A. M. to
12 M.
is the only positive and specific Remedy for all
personal suxering from general or sexual debility, all de
rangements of the nervous forces, melancholy, sperma
torrhcea, or seminal emissions, all weaknesses arising
from sexual excesses, or youthful indiscretions, loss of
muscular energy, jihysical prostration, nervousness,
weak spine, lowness of spirits dimness of virion, hyster
ics, pains in the back and limbs, impotency, <ic.
No language can convey an adequate idea of the imme
diate and almost miraculous change it occasions to tha
debilitated and shattered system. In fact, it stands un
rivaled as an unfailing care oi the maladies above men
Suffer no more, but try one bottle; it will effect a cure
where all others fail, and although a powerful remedy,
contains nothing hurtful to the most delicate constitu
tion. Price, Five Dollars. No. 56 Bond street, one door
from Bowery. Book of 60 pages gratis.
Manhood restored in fifteen minuter Recom
mended before marriage. Price, $5, No. 14 Chatham
st., N. Y.
IMF ad AME~VANB’us’kIRK. Physician
XVJL and Midwife, can be consulted at No. 42 St. Mark’s
place, near Second avenue. Having had twenty-five
years’ experience in the treatment of all female com
plaints, she can guarantee cure when all others fail. Her
remedies are safe and sure, and always give immediate
relief. Pleasant rooms and board for those from a dis
tance. Consultations at all hours.
JI Twenty-five years’ successful practice. Always
safe; always sure. Dr. and Madame DUBOIS. No. 154
E. Twenty-eighth St. Electricity scientifically applied.
Ladies requiring medical or
Surgical treatment for the Femoval of all special
irregularities or obstructions, may with confidence con
sult DR. DURANT. No. 7 Beach street,
near West Broadway, New York.
cured by Dr. MANCHES, No. 651 Broadway. Sem
inal Pills, for nervous debility, $1 par box, or six boxes
$5, by mad or at office. Circulars sent.
Dr. lewis, author of the pri
vate Treatise, &c., No. 7 Beach street. Those who
apply in the early stage of disease will be surprised at tho
ease and rapidity of tne cure.
cured by Dr. Evins, No. b 4 Chatnam st. Only
medicines to cure. Manhood restored by his Elixir. Ra
The most wonderful, reliable and certain remedy, aa
well as always healthy, for married or single ladies, in re
moving obstructions and suppressions, from whatever
cause, and restoring the monthly sickness, has proved to
Thousands of ladies have used them with infallible cer-
Readwhat the best physicians testify in respect to
“A woman applied to be treated for suppression. It
appeared that she had been subject to irregularity, or
stoppage of the monthly turns, and as she appeared to be
free from the usual symptoms attending pregnancy, it
was not supposed that the stoppage arone from that
cause. She commenced using the PORTUGUESE FE
MALE MONTHLY PILLS. After using them about
five days—from certain indications attending miscarriage
—suspicions began to be entertained that the suppression
might have arisen from pregnancy, which, upon examina
tion, proved to be the case—too late, however, to prevent
the miscarriage. In a short time, it took place, and on
about the third day after she entirely recovered, with but
little comparative inconvenience to her general health.’*
He further states that their efficacy and certainty are
such, that they are sometimes administered in cases of
malformation of pelvis, when the female is incompetent
to give birth at maturity.
They cannot fail, in recent cases they succeed in forty
eight hours. Price. $3 per box. In obstinate cases, thoss
two degrees 6 jf AURIOHAU Pn ° e *
Professor of Diseases of Women,
Office, No. 129 Liberty street.
Sole Agent and Proprietor for upward of twenty year®.
They are sent by mail, in ordinary letter envelopes, with,
full instructions and advice.
Dr. A. M. Mauriceau, for twenty.years successful prac
titioner a< his present office, guarantees a safe, and imme
diate and efficacious cure of all special difficulties, irregu
larities and obstructions, either in person or by mail.
Ladies from all parts of the United Stutea consult him
confidence and certainty of success.
Only certain cure tor worst private diseases, at No.
y-i Cnatham st.
_aL Have you contracted that terrible disease which,
when settled in the system, will surely go down from
one goneiation to another, Undermining the constitu
tion, and sapping the very vital 1! uids of life ? Do not trust
yourself in the bauds of mushroom quacks that start up
every day in a city like this, and fill the papers wita
abominable falsehoods, too well calculated to deceive the
young, and those who are not " posted up” to the tricks
of foreign and domestic impostors.
You cannot be too careful in the selection of a physi
cian, or a remedy in these cases. You should apply (o a
man wlie has had ample experience, and who pos -tosses
true skill in the treatment thereof. Such a physician is
Dr. HUNTER, who was located at No. 3 Di ision street
nearly forty years, but has removed to No. 56 Bond street,
one door from the Bowery. He lays his claims on the
following facts, which can bo proved at any moment:
He had been i i active practice over forty years, and
established his office in New York in 1833, exclusively for
the treatment of venereal diseases, and has devoted all
his abilities during all that time to this branch of medi
cine only. His great remedy—HUNTER'S Red Drop—
is medicine perfectly innocent in its action, yet so thor
ough that it annihilates every particle of the rank and
poisonous virus of this dreadiul disease, and on this ac
count alone it was first made public, that, unlike other
remedies, it does not dry it up in the blood, to break out
at a remote period all over the body, or to transmit to
the offspring. It has saved the pedigree of soma of th®
best families in America, and has saved more lives sine®
its discovery than this city contains. It has been coun
terfeited and slandered more than any remedy of any
kind ever brought before the public—the rasca s know
ing that unless they deter tho . nfortunate victims of
this dreadful disease from obtaining it their prospect for
patronage is gone. For ten years past every consum
mate quack doctor in this and other cities has got up
some lie about this great remedy, while at the sama
tune Dr. HUNTER restores people to sound health daily
who have been ruined with, mercury and caustic by these
humbugs. Dr. HUNTER practices on the most honor
able principles. No man is asked who or what he is-
Dr. HUNTER’S business is to cure his patients, and no
one knows but his patient and himself that they
met professionally. He desires youug men
respectable families, ana who are led astray by tne nu
merous temptations of a efty life, to understand tnis.
He has refused more certificates of
who have been unsuccessfully treated b> other p.usi
cians than will till tho largest newspaper in the world »
dozen times over, being restrained by the Injurious
effects it might produce on their o£ ar *9t® r * hJan!
lor, reader, his patients live and enjoy Bound hcrltli
liter hi« treatment. All afflicted are invited to apply at
once at h e new office, No. W Bond street, and. rest. a 3 .
anted that sou will receive the utmost care and atten
tion until a perfect, sound, and thorough cure la effect
ed, which occupies, in primary cases, from three ta
eight days pnif, CowulteUpa mediclue.

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