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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, November 13, 1870, Image 2

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Her favorite ornament was a rose ; her-usual
fan a broad Camilla leaf.
The garden attached to the Castle d’Orne
ministered greatly to her love for thfe most
beautiful of God’s creation, and Vioiota spent
the better portion of her time dreaming idly
among the studded lawns, and within the
shaded shrubberies of the Castle d’Orne
One moonlight night, a week after Victor
Delacourt’s proposal for her hand, she was sit
ting upon a rustic seat that faced the river,
which run through the broad lands of the
The moon streamed down upon the water,
transforming the rippling surface to a quiver
ing river of resplendent silver, and touched
the flowers here and there with its broad pen
cil of shimmering light, till they seemed bend
ing in the Summer night breeze beneath a
crown of glory.
Dark trees, through which the stars gleamed
like jewels in a woman’s hair, o’ershadowod
the water, ever and anon rustling as the wind
slightly stirred their thick foliage, or a drove
of bats brushed through the hanging leaves.
Violeta seemed wrapped in an absorbing rev
erie, as she sat with her lovely head resting on
her hand.
Her thoughts were sad ones, for a sigh broke
from her lips, and her head sank lower upon
her bosom as the night grew on apace.
She was thinking of many things—of her
father’s sternness, of the man to whom she was
promised, of her own helplessness to do aught
to escape the fulfillment of her betrothal: and,
lastly, her thoughts would ever and always
wander back to the night of the ball at the
Italian embassy, and to the face and form of
the mysterious being who had spoken with her
Beason with herself as she would, she could
Cot dispel his presence from her heart.
He had said but few words—how few! She
knew them by heart-had only looked at her
. once or twice, with what a look—with what
eyes 1 Had touched her arm twice—nay, only
once—yet as she sat and thought over each
word and touch, she felt the clasp of the strong
White hand thrill through her now, and a quiv
er, half painful, half pleasurable, shook her
delicate frame, causing her to gather lightly
around her the silken garment that shimmered
In the rays of the moon.
Did she love him 1
As she asked herself that question, lifting her
eyes to tho starlit sky, her heart gave her no
answer, only through her soul a nameless
feeling of helplessness and dismay ran like an
electric current.
“Ah, me!” she murmured. “This is so
strange—so strange! Would I could forgot
his face, if only for a moment; but, alas! his
eyes search out my soul, even now, and his
words still rings in my ears. I long, and yet I
fear, to see him again!”
And, with a sad sigh, the lovely girl, giving
a last glance to the gleaming water, rose to
leave the spot.
Scarcely had she turned than sho felt a thrill
run through her whole frame, a great weakness
fell upon her, and sho sank back upon her
Beat. At the same moment, the light plash of
an oar was heard down the stream.
Gliding down with solemn stateliness, one
moment full in the glare of the moon, another
under the shadow of the grand old trees, a
boat drifted silently down the stream. A tiny
lantern at its prow threw a streak of crimson
before it, and lit up tho blue silk that draped
the square bark from stern to prow.
Standing upright in the centre of the vessel
was a figure of unusual bight and majestic
build, holding in his hand, and plying with
noiseless ease, a single oar, the silver-coated
Surface of which glittered in the light.
Statue-like, with one foot resting on the edge
Of the boat, tho strange voyager came nearer
and nearer tho spot where Violeta d’Orne sat,
or almost lay, in a speechless trance, half ter
ror, half delight.
As the boat silenced by its heavy drapery
that floated with it on the surface of the water,
c%me from out the shadow into the light, and
the moon shone straight down upon rhe face
of tho weird boatman, the words, “It is ho!”
were forced from her lips, and she sprang for
ward, drawn by some unknown influence to
ward the approaching boat.
Without moving his head, or changing his
glance, which rested on her slight form quiver
ing in the moonlight like some stricken deer,
the boatman held up his hand, and, with that
motion, rooted her to the spot.
She could not move. Her feet seemed
Chained to the grass-grown bank, and a lan
guor spread throughout • her body, that bowed
her head upon her breast and closed her eyes.
When she opened them next she found her
self resting upon the breast of the figure sho
had seen in the boat, found herself contem
plating with wondering awe the dazzling orbs
that gazed down into hers.
Then she looked and waited for some word,
some sign that this was not a vision of air, not
a dream-like fancy of the miad.
He spoke, and as the,liquid tones of his voice
were borne softly upon the midnight air, she
she knew that the man beside her and the
Stranger at the ball were one and the same.
“My child, my child!” he said, raising his
hand, and with the tenderness of a woman,
smoothing the ruffled hazel hair from off her
forehead, “why you weep? Tho years are few
that have passed over your fair head, and yet
the tears dim the eyes that should darken only
With joy I
“ Were you weeping for the lost ? Weep not
for them, for what is lost here is lost for ever in
this land of sighs and tears—weep not either
for the living, for they weep enough for them
selves. Perchance, maiden, your tears are tor
a lover, absent in body but present in spirit
present in the rays of the moon that strikes its
beams upon your unsheltered head—present
in the heart that weeps to feel its kiss.
“Weep not, for love brings an heritage of
woo for one short span of joy. Weep not at
all, but garner up the tears for age and sorrow
that have long to wait before they close on
Softly he spoke—almost mournfully—and
a Violeta listened a delicious calm fell upon
her spirit, and her head fell back upon his
breast though her eyes still gazed trustfully
upon his.
She would have torn herself away and fled
toward the castle but—she could not.
Slowly and gently she answered.
“ I weep not for love nor woo. How knew
you that I had been weeping ? ’Twas but a
few tears.”
“ A single tear will dim such eyes as yours,
my child; a single heart-thought will cause
the lips to tremble and the eyes to shut. You
weep tor fear of love, and not for lack of it is
it not so ? You fear the ardor of Victor Dela
court, and your father’s stern will still forces
you to marry his chosen lover whether ho has
your heart or not ?”
As tho truth in all its nakedness rolled out
into the night, the girl trembled within his
arms, and her eyes swam imploringly as they
looked piteously up into the calm, questioning
orbs of the face above her.
“ Your tears are answer enough,” he replied
still more gently, “Weep not, cast all fear
aside. Victor Delacourt shall never hold you
in his arms as I do now. You are none of his,
nor shall be. Calm all doubts, Violeta d’Orne.
As surely as we stand here swathed in heaven’s
moonlight, so surely shall you be no wife of
Victor Delacourt.”
Sternly and calmly the words rang out, fall
ing like calm upon the troubled spirit of the
maiden, and a blissful smile lit up her face as
eho whispered.
“I know not why, but I am comforted,
though I cannot tell bow you should have the
power to break this dreadful chain that grows
bo tightly round me. Will you not tell me who
you are ?”
A strange smile passed over the face of the
alchymist as the oft-asked question came from
the young girl’s lips.
“What need of name, my child? I am he
Who fulfills all he promises. I come to save
you from the fate you dread so highly. What
need of a name so that I am friend, not foe ?
But if you will—know me by no name but by
this 1”
And, opening his cloak, he drew from a gir
dle, sparkling with antique precious stones, a
blue tapering steel wand, in length about a
Anger size, and held it up.
“ Know me by this, and, till wo meet again,
keep firm heart and true. Trust in me to res
cue you as I have promised ; trust—and weep
notl” and gradually sinking his voice until it
reached a rhythmical murmur he touched her
White forehead with the tip of rhe steel wand.
A thrill ran through her fame. The delicious
sense of languor she had felt at the coming of
the boat fell upon her spirit once more, and,
closing her eyes with a smile, she gave herself
up to the tranced unconsciousness.
A weary expression came over the face of the
alchymist as he gathered her in his arms and
laid her gently upon the rustic seat.
“Poor child! poor child’ She is as lovely
Ma fairy. Would I had no need!”
KThen his face grew stern and cold agam, and
be muttered;
“ What is one life weighed in the balance ?
»ye, even such a life as this?”
And then, with tender hand, he-wrapped her
light cloak closely round her, unmoored the
Bolemn barge, and the next moment, like the
figure of Charon, he stood upon the deck, pro
pelling the bark swiftly against the stream.
''Filled with conflicting emotions, Claude Lor
raine—standing m the street where ho had
alighted from" tlm stranger’s carriage—passed
his hand several timea across his heated fore
head, and tried to collect the varied thoughts
that scurried through his brain.
. Vised to dark scenes of mystery, for the court
oi Louis XVI. was noted for its plots and coun
terplots, intrigues and secret schemes, and
hardened as he was to bloodshed and danger,
yet the mysterious words of the man who had
unfolded before his astonished eyes a vision of
revenge and successful tore rang in his ears,
and he paced up and down his house some
time ere he ascended the steps that led to the
entrance. , -
“ Who and what is this man, who promises
■?. much authority and
plausibility ?” he wondered.
“ Will it be as he says ? Shall I have my re
venge, and win my love? Yet stay—he prom
isod to tear her froca Dolacourt’a arms, where
none should find her; he nought of giving
her to me. Can he mean to play both her and
me false?’* And aa the suspicion flashed
hu miad> bu brow contracted with a
heavy pain, and his eyes wore an expression
that boded no good.
For hours ho paced before his house, pon
dering over the events of the day; and then,
after a hasty toilet, lie walked through the
dark night to one of the gaming saloons at
tached to the palace.
“ I shall go mad before tho day breaks if I
think, and think only I” he had muttered, aud
so he sought to care and anxiety m the
ring of the rouge-et-noir and the click of the
roulette tables.
The saloon was full, and almost unnoticed,
Claude entered through the green baize cov
ered doors, and sought a seat in a retired cor
The lights were blazing high, and the tiers
of mirrors reflected the magnificent carving
and gold and silver filagree work with a thou
sandfold of their brilliancy.
A silence, broken only by an exclamation of
a player or tho monotonous cry of. the crou
piers, reigned throughout the dazzling apart
ment, and a subtle perfume crept through the
tiny silver gratings let in the flooring, and
stole over the senses of the gamblers.
Here Claude’s troubled thoughts left him for
a while, and he had sat gazing at the table
near him with a more peaceful expression on
his face for the space of about half an hour,
when the green doors again swung open and
admitted Victor Delacourt, leaning on the arm
of a friend.
Claude Lorraine’s face lit up with a glare of
hatred, but he merely drew still further within
his corner, and moodily watched the new com
ers from beneath his dark, fiercely bent brows.
“ Ah, Victor, my child,” said one of the play
ers, looking up with a smile. “We wait for
you—wait for you like the children of Israel
tor a leader. The game is passing to a mere
nothing. Be seated, and wake Fortune from
her deep sleep—on my account ?”
“ Bather let her sleep on,” replied Victor,
with a laugh; “she never wakes, but for my
discomforting.” .
“Say not so,” retorted some one, signifi
cantly. “If Paris speaks truly—’tis true it
never does—your lordship has met with for
tune in the halls of Count d’Orne.”
A bright flush mounted to Victor’s face, but
he answered not save by a smile, as he took his
seat at the table and proceeded with the game.
The face of tho unperceived listener in the
corner also flushed, but it reddened a dark
crimson of mingled rage and agony.
“Thank the gods our Victor is with us at
all,” remarked the young courtier who had en
tered with Delacourt, and whose name was
Vincent Befeil. “’Tis a mercy he lies not at
the bottom of the cold waters of this infernal
Seine of ours, for the court murderer has
marked him for his own, and tried his steel al
ready but this morning.”
All looked up, and one player, an aged dip
lomat, ' with frosted beard and snowy hair,
yet with keen, sharp set, glittering eyes, ex
claimed :
“Vincent, your speech is as enigmatical as
it is flowery. Explain.”
“Very little to explain, gentlemen,” inter
rupted Victor Delacourt. “Vincent merely
means that M. Claude Lorraine and myself
crossed swords, this morning, and he wonders
at my escape.”
“ Le Diable,” muttered the diplomat," will he
never have done ?” Then, aloud : “So you
have quarreled at last, eh? and how came you
off sans scratch, sans scar?”
Victor Delacourt paused a moment before re
plying. Should he speak of the strange inter
ruption, the closing of the shutters, and the
speech of the intruder ? No.
“ A misunderstanding only as to weapons,”
he replied, carelessly. “M. Lorraine and I
meet to-morrow, on the Bois.”
A silence fell upon the group, and each man
looked up curiously at the face of the speaker.
There was little chance, most of them thought,
of looking upon it alivo after that night.
“It is strange,” said Vincent Befeil, as he
raked a winning heap of gold toward him, “ it
is strange I have tried to bring about a meet
ing between this Lorraine and myself for some
time past, but ” and here he shrugged his
shoulders, “ this much-feared tiger will take a
quantity of waking up, or I am fortunate in
frightening him. Would it were I who had to
meet him instead of mon cher Victor, who is
comparatively a child at this game of parry and
The party laughed. Vincent was a good
shot, and a good swordsman, and he knew it,
and Victor Delacourt, with a cheerful face, no
way offended at his friend’s disparaging re
mark, replied:
“Vanity of vanity ! oh, Vincent; well, have
no fear, though I cannot handle a rapier like
thyself, yet I’ll be bound I pierce the throttle
of this braggart almost as well as thou couldst
do it.”,
“We shall see,” replied the other, curtly.
“ Meanwhile, it may be as well to state that if
you fail, then will M. Lorraine have to fight
again, for I will try my hand at the man who
has slain three—mark you, three— of my best
As ho finished, his voice trembled with min
gled pity and rage, and the hand that held the
pocket-book containing the money fell upon
the table with a force that set the little heaps
of gold dancing again.
Ere the ring of his voice had died away, an
answering ono was heard; and, looking round
with a start, the players saw Claude Lorraine,
the m!>n they had been speaking so fiercely of,
stand like a statue behind them.
None of the men who looked upon his face
that moment ever forgot it afterward. It was
black as night, with two eyes blazing like red
hot coals of fire. The mouth was shut tightly,
and the thin lips drawn fiercely under the
drooping mustache.
Hard and cutting came the words :
“Why wait so long, Vincent Befeil? Why
wait until your friend is dead ? Will not the
present serve your turn ?”
“Ay, that it will!” shouted the youth,
springing from his seat, and slashing his sword
from its sheath.
A dozen hands held him fast, and cries of
“Hold! hold!” were shouted by the lookers
A moment’s pause followed, the players
tightly clasping the arms of the infuriated
Vincent, who strained and struggled to re
lease himself, while he kept his eyes fiercely
fixed upon the dark face of Claude Lorraine.
The latter, with folded arms, watched in
grim silence the group before him, and stood
motionless for a second, only letting his eyes
wander from the struggling Vincent to the
frowning face of Victor Delacourt, who stood
with one hand upon his sword-hilt, and the
other holding fast his friend’s arm.
“Belease me!” cried Vincent Befeil.
“ Would I hold either of you, think you, if he
stood daring you as he does me ? Let go my
arm; you only weaken and unnerve me.”
One by one the would-be peace-makers let go
their clasp of his arm, Victor Delacourt being
the last to hold him back, saying, as his hand
dropped, and he fell back a step or two :
“Why should you make our quarrel yours ?”
A loud laugh, as Vincent Befeil sprang in
front of Claude Lorraine, was the only answer.
“Swords or pistols’, Monsieur Lorraine?”
demanded the diplomat, advancing with a calm
If the duel was inevitable, it might as well
be carried out with due ceremony, was the
thought of the hoary statesman and warrior,
so his tones were polished and polite, and his
bow elegantly finished as he advanced to
Claude’s side.
“I give M. Befeil the choice,” was the stern,
indifferent answer.
“ And I throw back the offer with disdain!”
cried Vincent. “Fight with what you will, I
care not 1”*
An evil smile lit up the other’s face as he an
swered slowly, looking over to where Victor
Delacourt stood as he spoke :
“ As M. Befeil is so considerate, I will choose
A shudder ran through the frame of Victor
Delacourt as the last words dropped like ice
from the lips of the duelist. He knew the
fearful advantage it gave Claude Lorraine, and
was aware that his friend’s life was scarcely
worth a moment’s purchase. Without a word,
but with another bow, the diplomat beckoned
Victor, who had slipped to the side of Vincent
as his second, and the two walked to the other
side of the room.
“ I am afraid poor Vincent is a dead man,”
he said, in a low voice. “ Claude Lorraine’s
reputation as a killing shot is world-wide.”
“Alas, it is!” almost groaned Victor, “and
Vincent is so hasty, so enraged, that his aim
cannot possibly be straight; all chance is
gone—it is too surely a certainty.”
. In a few minutes the weapons were in the
seconds’ hands, and the four were walking
slowly toward the bare, bleak spot in the pal
ace grounds that had stood as the site of mur
ders untold.
The ground was quickly measured out, and
the combatants stood face to face—life to life.
“ Have you any message in case—” hinted
the diplomat to Claude, as he stood with one
arm behind his back and the other stretched
out murderously before..
“ None,” he said, “ I thank you, I shall not
fall I”
Then followed a pause. They were waiting
for Victor and Vincent, who were talking
“Aim high and quickly,” exclaimed Victor,
hurriedly. “Let not a second elapse between
the signal and your firing. It is your only
chance 1”
“ I will,” replied the other, calmly. “If I
fall, Victor, you will remember that I died as
one of our house should die—weapon in hand ;
and remind my mother of it also.”
Hie voice hushed a little as he closed his
sentence, but it was as clear as a bell a mo
ment after. Examining and balancing his pis
tol, he said:
“lam ready.’*
“Once! twice! thrtce!”
Of what fearful moment were those three
single words, counting out as they did the
span of one man’s life.
They fell with awful distinctness upon the
ear of Victor Delacourt, and be started forward
with a heavy groan as the last word, accompa
nied by a single report, rang througb the air.
It was Vincent who had fired—fired in his
haste a second before the time. Claude Lor
raine’s Distol arm fell to bis side with a dull
sound, out his weapon did not drop, for his
left arm clasped and raised it to the aim, and
then, without a second’s delay, he had fired
the return shot.
His aim could not have varied in the slight
est, although his arm-held his adversary’s bul
let, for Vincent Befeil leaped into the air, shot
through the head, and fell to the damp ground
-dead I
"My God !” exclaimed the diplomat, Claude’s
seconu. with earnest, reluctant admiration.
“Has ho fallen?” asked Claude, hoarsely,
the smoking pistol still m his hand.
“ Fallen !’’repeated the other, grimly. “ Fall
en to rise never again. You have shot him
right in the centre of the iorehead, and there
is no longer a Count Vincent de Befeil.”
“So!” breathed tho victor through his
clenched teeth. “ Well, there is room still for
a few more,” aud he pointed with a stern smilo
to the stock of his pistol, which was cut deeply
with the names of the fallen.
“Put up your weapon,” said the diplomat,
“and let mo see to your wound.”
“A mere scratch,” said Claude, calmly wrap
ping his cloak closely round him, and striding
slowly to the spot where the dead man lay, his
face turned toward the starless sky.
The slayer bent over the slain for a single
moment, and looked up with a sardonic smile
os he pointed to the dark round hole in the
white forehead.
“A clean shot!”
Victor Delacourt, who was bending over his
friend’s body, with his face buried in his hands,
started to his feet at the sound of the harsh,
hoarse voice, and confronted him.
“ Claude Lorraine, look you! your face, when
your hour comes, will not bo as peaceful as
that; ay, even though it has tho devil’s mark
that you have set upon it I”
A cold, malignant sneer answered the taunt
or prophecy—for prophecy it was—and turn
ing on his heel, Claude Lorraine, with another
life upon his heavily-weighted soul, walked si
lently away.
The diplomat, who had acted as his second,
came up to the spot’where tho dead man lay.
“ This is very fearful,” be said, in his turn,
bending over the corpse. “Victor Delacourt,
you must not meet this man to-morrow,
or ,” and ho finished by pointing to the
still form beneath them.
With a bound Victor started to his feet.
“Not! Ah, Monsieur Gobette, you know me
but little if you think I would neglect a chance
of revenge. This,” and he laid his hand ten
derly upon the breast of the dead man, “ was
my dearest friend. Think you I will let his
murderer go free ? No! Live or die, I stand
where he has fallen to face his assassin I”
M. Gobette sighed and turned away.
“Igo to get assistance,” he said. “It is
very dark. I hope we shall be able to get to
the palace without interruption.”
Scarcely had the words left his lips, when a
light glimmered in the distance.
“Good Heaven I” he exclaimed ; “ that must
be tho guard! Quick! come this way! We
will hide behind the shrubbery until they have
“And leave ” .
“Yes, yes,” hurriedly replied the diplomat.
“ Quick, ’or it will be too late!”
Victor Delacourt reverently spread his
handkerchief over the face of the dead, and
followed Gobette, who had run toward tho
shrub that lined tho path.
Crouching down, they heard tho tramp of
the night guard approaching nearer, and in a
few moments the glare of their lanterns was
beaming upon the body of Vincent.
The officer in command uncovered the face,
arid started back with horror..
“Gook God Vincent Befeil! Halt! Dis
band and search every bush around. A duel
has been fought, and the dead lies here. You
know him, mes enfants. It is M. Befeil.”
A shudder ran through the guard, and one
or two stepped forward to examine the calm
face, with its death wound lividly staring from
the white forehead, and then bounded toward
the shrubbery.
The two men in biding had heard each word
the officer had said, and the face of M. Gobette
was calm as usual as he whispered:
“There’s a fate in these things, monsieur.
Strange! the guard has not patroled this por
tion of the park for months since until to
night. Well, parbleu ! better a jail for you
than an ugly bullet mark suclr as our poor '
friend has. You will not meet M. Claude Lor
raine to-morrow morning after all, you see.”
Victor Delacourt groaned, and an oath burst
from between his clenched teeth.
The next moment one of the guard had
sprung upon them, and, with shouts for help,
dragged them into the open space.
They were surrounded at once, and with a
stern “Your names, gentlemen,” the officer
pulled out his pocket-book. He started as
Victor’s voice fell hoarsely upon his ears. But
beyond a muttered exclanlation of surprise, he
made no remark save a stern “Forward I” and
the troop marched toward the palace with the
prisoners in their midst.
We left Violeta lying in a dream-like trance
upon the bank of the river that ran through
the grounds of d’Orne.
When she awoke with a feeling of bewilder
ment, her first thought was that she had been
dreaming, and a sigh of relief breathed from
her lips; but, looking down, sho saw a small
piece of gold lace hanging to her shawl.
Then, like a flash of lightning, the truth
burst upon her. It was no dream.
She remembered the light tunic, edged with
gold lace, and all shining with gems. The vision
was no vision, then, but a reality.
She had, in deed and truth, rested upon his
heart—had assuredly, and not in fickle fancy,
heard his soft yet grandly spoken words—had
felt his arms wound round her, and looked up
into those dark, pitying orbs, the glint of which
sunk into her soul.
Ah! how small, how weak, how childish she
had felt within those arms 1 how kingly had
rung the words he had deigned to utter 1
And then how fearful his departure! Could
sho not feel the thrill of the cold steel on her
forehead—ay, even through her whole frame—
even now? and. feeling it, tremble at the re
membrance of the mighty power that threw her
from life into a state of deadly unconscious
Yet, strangely, the wonder at this mysterious
boatman’s power did not so much fill her
thoughts as the remembrance that ho had
held her in his arms, and spoken soft words to
He had called her “my child,” and stroked
her waving hair with his strong white band.
Yes, and bid her be comforted, for that which
she so much dreaded should never come to
And as the very words ho had used lingered
in her ears, she smiled a happy, assured smile,
and walked dreamily up the narrow path, and
across the green lawn to her chamber that
overlooked the river, down which the boat had
Sassed unseen away, gliding througb themoon
ke a thing of stealth and life, its velvet and
silken draperies sweeping a broad crystal wake
behind it.
While Violeta was spending the hours of the
night in the moonlight, her father, d’Orne,
was pacing the soft carpet of his study with
the troubled tread of a perplexed man.
A heavy weight was on his mind. It was
true he was free from the terrible cloud of
ruin that had hung over him a few weeks back ;
but at what a price had the cloud been dis
persed—at the price of his liberty.
For had he not sworn to the stranger, who
had showered upon him this wealth of precious
gems, that all he possessed was at his’service,
when he should choose to ask it ?
He was but a tenant-at-will within the gilded
walls of Orne Castle, and the broad lands that
shone so fairly in the moonlight were but lent
to him for an uncertain time, to be relin
quished at the will of the mysterious being.
Yet, the Count d’Orne owned to himself that
he could scarcely in justice complain. All
would have gone for certain, if the unknown
had not proffered his valuable aid, and insisted
on its acceptance with the majesty and auster
ity of a king.
What would he have thought could he have
seen or known, that tho daughter of the house
of d’Orne was at that moment, resting within
the arms of his benefactor !
As it was, he paced the floor with weary and
restless heart, vainly wondering and conjectur
ing the motive that prompted the unknown to
rescue the house and name of Orne at the ex
pense of a princely fortune.
Letters were strewn upon the table unopened,
and, after a few more turns up and down, the
count flung himself wearily into his chair and
commenced breaking the seals.
We will look over his shoulder to see what is
in that epistle he is reading, to cause his start
of surprise and vexation. It ran thus :
The king has refused. He has sacrificed too much
already. The storm is gathering—watch for its
There was no signature. None was needed.
Count d’Orne knew Greunelle’s handwriting
A troubled expression crossed his face, and
a sigh burst from his lips as he muttered :
“ So, this sop refused to Cerberus, nothing
is left but to escape its hungry jaws.”
And he carefully held the note over the
shaded lamp, and watched it till it was burnt
to ashes..
The second bore the official stamp of the Pre
fect of Police, and informed his Excellency, M.
leComte d’Orne, that a duel had been fought
it was supposed between Vincent Bafeil and
Victor Delacourt.
The former lay dead with a bullet wound in
his forehead, and the latter having been found
near the corpse, was now in custody. M.
Gobette, the diplomat,” the epistle proceeded
to state, “ was also a prisoner.”
As he read, the count’s head dropped upon
his hands.
Victor Delacourt in prison I
He had intended to marry him to Violeta
within the month!
Fate surely turned a cold face upon the af
fairs of the house of Orne, and the head thereof
seamed bowed down beneath the weight of this
last ijlow to his hopes and plans.
Inaction had never been tho policy of the
Count d’Orne; his hand was wielding a pen in
a few moments : and a dispatch commanding
the release of Victor Delacourt, if it could be
obtained at any cost, was soon speeding swiftly
on the road to Pans.
The date of the letter announcing his arrest
was a week back.
The prisoner, when brought before the tribu
nal, had explained the whole matter, and
begged to bo released.
Wiie authorities detained him until a search
for Claude Lorraine had been instituted.
He had escaped on the night of the duel. His
house was closed, and the po'Uoe, when they
broke in, found everything In disorder ; the
furniture laying about as if it had been hur
riedly overturned; aud several drawers and re
ceptacles for valuables broken open—aud
The officer of gendarmes slirugged his
shoulders sagely and said—
“ Tiie.nest is here nut the bird has flown and
taken materials. wherewith to build another
one. Wo must look further afiol i.”
And they did, but neither in Paris nor its
numerous suburbs did tlioy find Claude Lor
raine, he had disappeared as suddenly as it an
earthquake bad swallowed him up. And until
his forthcoming the order for the prisoner’s
detention remained m force.
Claude Lorraine’s disappearance, though a
mystery to Paris aud the poliqe, need bo none
to the reader. '
Walking from tho ground with the pistol still
smoking in his hand, he had almost run
against tho guard, indeed, had only to tune to
ijrow himself behind ono.of the ornamental
pagodas that decorated tho park before they
passed by him.
Directly they had gone on, he darted out,
and, with swift pace, reached the palace
With a feeling of relief from the passing dan
ger, he rested against the iron pillar that sus
tained the arch, and for a moment or two gave
way to his gloomy thoughts.
He know that the guards would find the body
of Vincent Befeil—perhaps discover Gobette
and Delacourt, aud he know that the result
would be a swift pursuit, and certain death.
He was not popular at the court. It had
condoned too many atlairs of this kind already,
and Vincent Befeil’s family was a powerful one,
and not likely to bo slow m seeking the aid of
the law to wreak vengeance on the slayer of
one of their house.
So he leant sadly but calmly against the gate,
almost ready to defy the worst, and await the
return of the guards.
Suddenly a hand was laid upon his arm.
With tremendous strength, he turned, and
the person who had touched him fell beneath
his blow.
No groan followed—not a word; the fallen
man. rose slowly to his feet, and, wiping the
blood slowly from his face, said, slowly :
“Follow mo.”
“Follow you?” breathed Claude, savagely,
grasping the man’s shoulder, aud dragging
him beneath the light. “Why should I fol
low you? I never saw you before. Speak,
fellow, will you, or I’ll choke you like a dog! ”
And he meant it. He was mad to-night, and
would ill brook interference and thwarting of
any kind.
“Pray follow me, for your own sake, Claude
Lorraine. Listen. That is the tri nip of the
guard. They will be here in three minutes.
Wait for them here, and their swords will be
at your breast, and your night will bo spent in
the guard-house. Follow me. ana you are
For a moment, Claude hesitated, hut while
he stood looking hard at the immovable face of
the man that showed no anger, no riLieo, no
pain, though the blood from Claude’s blow was
trickling from his lips, a sudden light broke in
upon him.
“Load on,” he said curtly, and dropping his
pistol into his belt, he followed the man, who,
waiting for no other word, darted silently and
swiftly across the road, and after traversing a
number of small streets, plunged into a dark
alley so suddenly and noiselessly that Claude,
following doggedly behind, nearly lost sight of
him in the intense darkness.
A few minutes' groping through the dark
noisome alley, and the man stopped.
Claude stopped also a few paces behind, and
quietly drew ids pistol.
At the slight click of tho trigger a sword’s
point touched his breast, and a voice said
“ Put your weapon by, monsieur, or you are
a dead man.”
The sharp blade was cutting the velvet tunic,
and the tone of the warning voice rang truth
fully in his ears, so the dueliest lowered his
fatal pistol, and with a muttered oath dropped
it once more into his belt. -
The sword’s point was withdrawn, but
Claude, although he listened with breathless
attention, did not hear it sheathed.
While this incident, which had not taken a
moment, was occurring, the guide was knock
ing against a door that Claude could not dis
cern in the dense darkness.
One, two, three, sharp knocks, and then
three together slowly, and the door opened.
Some watchword was passed between the
porter and an old man with his face carefully
hidden by a mass of unkempt hair ; he held a
tiny lantern high above his head so that its
light fell upon the faces of Claude and his com
panion, as the two entered.
Claude heard the door shut softly, and turn
ing saw a mass of bolts run into heavy sockets,
and a thick iron bar fell across them all.
A frowned crossed his face, and he looked
keenly at tho face of the ' guide, as ho asked
“Do you mean me harm, may I ask ? because
I am not altogether weaponless, and you had
better begin at once.”
And almost mechanically he backed into the
corner of the wall.
A smilo passed over the face of the guide as
he answered—■
“Had I wished to work you harm, I should
scarcely havod waited until now. I assure M.
Claude Lorraine that he has been on the thres
“hold of death every inch of tho roadfor the last
Claude, glancing at the sword slit in his
tunic, bit his lip. It was even so.
“These locks and bars you seem to regard
with so much suspicion,” continued the man,
“are intended for your protection. If you
wish it they shall be drawn, and you will be at
liberty to depart. The guards are already
seeking you, no doubt, and I fear that encum
bered as monsieur is with his wound ”
Claude started, and interrupted him with an
astonished “How knew you?”
“His chances of escape, even for a few
hours, are small. Here monsieur will be care
fully guarded. My master, whose servant lam,
has bidden me give you my advice only, and
leave you perfectly free.”
Again the measured tones and calm reason
conquered, and Claude Lorraine muttered:
“ Pardon me, if this mystery serves to make
me suspicious. As you say, you would scarce
ly bring me thus far to work me ill, but once
again, I warn you that I will sell my life dear
ly, winged as I am.”
The guide bowed gravely, and led the way
up the narrow, creaking stairs.
The porter who had opened the door, had
handed his light to Claude’s companion, and
disappeared within a little box-like room at
the right of tho heavily-barred door.
After ascending two flights, they stopped
upon a small lobby, dimly lighted by a wax
candle upheld by an exquisite -statuette of
Claude Lorraine started. A valuable work
of art set up in a dilapidated house oi the Fau
bourg St. Antoine!
The incongruity startled him, but he made
no remark, and stood by in silence, while the
other took a small silver key from his girdle
and unlocked the door.
A gleam of subdued light burst out upon the
little lobby, and Claude Lorraine, stepping in
to the room,’stood petrified with astonish
Before him was a room of convenient size,
furnished and decorated with the most costly
and tasteful magnificence.
With astonished gaze he turned to the man
who, standing beside him, appeared not to no
tice his surprise, and exclaimed:
“ What is this ? Is it a vision of fairyland,
or—or ”
“ These are your lordship’s quarters as long
as you desire to use them,” was the respectful
response ; “ I humbly trust nothing will be
found wanting. Beyond this salon lies the
bed-chamber. If monsieur will be seated, his
wound will bo dressed, and his supper served
And before Claude could reply the door had
closed upon the speaker.
Outside, the slight form of a woman sprang
into the arms of the guide, with a low ory of
endearment. She started back with horror
and fright as the light from the Mercury shone
upon the cut and swollen lip, and a scream of
pain burst from her lips.
It brought a glad light into the man’s eyes,
and he clasped her more closely still to his
heart, but he did not kiss her.
“Ah.Maon, my love, my love, you are hurt!”
she moaned.
Maon, for it was he, smiled reassuringly.
“Not hurt, merely scratched, my darling.
A mere nothing, that served me rightly for be
ing too hasty in snaring my bird. The mas
ter’s word has been carried out to the letter.
Claude Lorraine is flying from the law, and is
in our power. He is wounded, my Bose; go
you, and dress his hurt.”
The girl drew back :
“Aid the man who has struck you!”
“Yes, even so ; he’s brave and strong, and I
have forgiven him—l am rewarded far too well
for so slight a blow, to bear malice against the
man who has procured me your—pity, my dar
ling. Beside, we but obey.”
With a graceful movement, the beautiful
young girl raised herself on tip-toe, touched
his swollen Up with hers, and then slid from
his arms and passed into the room with a light
and blushing face.
Mind, that miserable affair of the necklace, I
should not be surprised if it should overturn the
French monarchy.— Talleyrand
Marie Antoinette I
What need to say more ? The name stands
for all that is most beautiful, most bewitching
—most unfortunate.
111-fated Queen of La Belle France! who does
not know your luckless history! rising like the
morning sun in an atmosphere of glory, and
like’the sun dying amid a sea and sky of crim
son blood 1
A lily growing in the centre of a court of
garish-painted sunflowers, Marie Antoinette’s
very gayety and innocence, truthfulness and
honor, were the handles her enemies strained
at to drag her to the scaffold.
As yet, only the faintest rumbling of the
storm was heard, and the smile of careless
beauty sat upon the face of the lovely queen
as, surrounded by a group of maids of honor,
she sat gazing, with a woman’s admiration
and longing, upon a necklace of enormous dia
monds that sparkled and glittered as Boehmer,
the court jeweler, held them for her inspec
“Are they not beautiful!" she exclaimed,
holding them in her white hand and swinging
them to and fro before the eyes of Madame
Campam her friend aud favorite.
“I'hey are, indeed, your majesty I" replied
Madame teainpan.
“Baautilul!” exclaimed the other ladies, in
“I.have been ten years gathering them
from all the four corners of the earth, your
majesty,” remarked the jeweler, with a respect
ful bow. “They are the largest m the world,
and are fit only for the person of the Queen of
A silvery laugh answered the subtle flattery,
and the queen, with a playful smile, retorted :
“Ah, Bcehmer, you would sell mo the jewels
wrappod in a compliment. Ladies, what say
you ? Should we buy these gew-gaws of Mon
sieur Bcehmer, and outshine all the other
princes of this world, disporting ourselves like
a white elephant covered with a principality,
or spend the money in a huge ship to float the
waters and guard the land of France ?”
The question, commenced playfully, ended
in a serious voice, and the faces of the maids
grew overcast as they saw their queen had de
termined to refuse the heap of light and scin
tillation that lay before their dazzled eyes.
Boehmer’s brow grew black. He had busied
himself for years in collecting the most valua
ble diamonds circulating in commerce, and
thus composed this necklace of several rows,
whose attractions, he had hoped, would be ir
resistible to the queen.
The etiquette of court prevented him from
further urging his sale, and, as be had ex
pended far more than his own fortune in the
purchase of these brilliant gems, he had cause
for fear and trembling.
Did he not sell these unfortunate jewels,
ruin was inevitable.
With anxious eyes and trembling mien he
watched the queen, as she toyed with the neck
lace, handing it now and then among her ladies,
and listening with a bright smile to their excla
mations of delight.
Suddenly, she bent over to Madame Campan.
“What say you?”
That lady’s eyes fell.
She bad heard the ugly words run round the
city at the fall of night, had caught the people’s
murmurs as they cursed the “Austrian’s” ex
travagance, and sworb that their children’s
bread had fallen from them to deck her car
riage sides, and she knew that the sixty-four
thousand pounds the jeweler asked would has
ten another taxation, and give the queen’s en
emies another chance of flourishing her extrav
She hesitated, and Bcehmer was lost.
With a sigh, the necklace fell into the case,
and, rising, Marie Antoinette said, sottly : •
“Thanks, my good Bcehmer; let us hope
never was servant so ungratefully treated as
thou art, but the necklace must not rest upon
the m ;k'of the Queen of France. Break it,
up, and sell the stones singly, and tempt me
Befr re the despairing Bcehmer could an
swl.. she had swept from the chamber, and
her ladies, closing in behind her, hid her from
his sight.
Ho was frantic.
The next year he spent traveling the courts
of Europe, hoping to find some crowned head
with the small sum of sixty-four thousand
pounds available for the purchase of his neck
lace ; but the twelve months came round, and
brought him back to Baris with the gems still
in his possession.
Then ho sought the king.
“ Your majesty, I shall be ruined if the queen
does not purchase them 1”
Louis smiled his indolent, easy smile, and
tossed the bauble across the table, as he re
plied :
“Bcehmer, I have noticed that almost every
man who worries mo about this sort of thing is
close on to ruination, and only waits for me to
push him over, if I don’t or won’t do this thing
or the other! Why do you not ask her majesty
again? Have you not flourished them before
her eyes enough ?”
“Let them sparkle and glitter for one quar
ter of an hour upon her tiring table, and I’ll
warrant thee she buys them and another lot
like them if you can find them 1”
Slightly cheered, the miserable Bcohmer
plucked up courage to ask:
“Would—would your majesty bo gracious
enough to say a word in their favor ?”
The king yawned, and played listlessly with
a minature chisel with which he had been cut
ting a little model of the Tuileries, and an
“ Yes, yes, leave them here, and leave mo.
I’ll turn jeweler for once, Bcehmer, and consent
to dangle these bright stones of yours before
the queen’s eye. What commission will you
allow me, eh r’
Overcome with gratitude, our favored jeweler
bent over the good-natured monarch’s hand and
poured forth his thanks.
His self-gratulation was premature. Let him
flash them as he would, Mario was not to be
persuaded, and the king was not more success
ful than Bcehmer.
“I am weary of jewels, Louis,” she replied.
“ Have I not a large diamond in thee, and a
host of gems in our children. Beside, the peo
ple have called me the extravagant Austrian—
almost as yet without cause. Let us not give
them a just reason for their abuse. Bcehmer
is at fault; the gems were not ordered. In
deed, I have repeatedly assured him that I
would not add another quartette of diamonds
to my already heavy sets, and he was wrong in
gathering these. If you will make me a pres
ent, let the gift take the shape of a ship. It
will please me, and humor the people.”
. “Not so,” laughed Louis, coiling her hair
round his fat forefinger. “ Heaven knows we
have not so many thousands that we must spend
them in gems or ships. If you will not let me
clasp this bugbear of Bcehmer’s round your
neck, Marie mine, then—l’ll keep the money in
my pocket.”
And with a sleepy laugh at his own wit, the
ruler of mighty France owned himself defeat
ed, and next day returned the costly ornaments
to their ruined owner.
[To be continued.!
Beautiful (entimsous Cum
Extracting Under Gas Without Charge,
Wlien Others are Inserted.
DR. BODINE, No. 190 Grand st.
jgT Those who ar® Bi«h, or afflicted with
any chronicle difficulty, should without delay write for
Dr. Hamilton’s New Treatise, sent free to any address.
P. O. Box, No. 4,952. New York City.
established by long and extensive use, and they are now
furnished to Commissioned Officers, Soldiers, and Sea
men of the U. S. Army and Navy, who lost their limbs in
the service. Under the new laws of 1870, now in full ope
ration, persons entitled to New Limbs under this Law,
and desiring information in regard to it, will receive it in
sonally or by mail, to my Office, without any charge.
The course to pursue to obtain Limbs is now so plain
that with such blanks and instructions as are furnished
here. NO ATTORNEY or Agent of any kind whatever
is needed. A. A. MARKS, No. 575 Broadway, N. Y. city
ELECTUARY and OINTMENT are a certain cure
tor Piles, Costivenosa, Liver Complaint, and Dyspepsia;
also, for all cutaneous diseases and affections of the skin.
These medicines can be obtained and the Doctor con
sulted at his Medical Office, No. 39 East Fourth street,
third door from the Bowery, and between Bowery and
Broadway. Office hours from 7 o’clock in the morning
till 9 in the evening.
its gloomy attendants, low spirits, depression, in
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Price $5 per package of five boxes and large vial, worth
$2, which is very important in obstinate or old cases,
or $1 per single box.
Sold by ALL Druggists, and sent by mail on receipt of
price. Address all letters,
No. 562 BROADWAY, New York city.
The Highest Cash Prices
OLD PAMPHLETS of every kind;
written full;
and all kinds of WASTE PAPER from Bankers,
Insurance Companies, Brokers, Patent-Medi
cine Depots, Printing-Offices, Bookbind
ers, Public and Private Libraries,
Hotels, Steamboats, Railroad. •
Companies, and Express
Offices, &c.
25 Ann street. N. Y.
y Department of Finance, ]
Bureau of the Receiver of Taxes, I
Court House. Park, f
No • 32 Chambers street, Nov. 1, 1870. >
TO TAXPAYERS.—Notice is hereby given that one
per cent, will be adued to all taxes unpaid on the Ist of
December, also an additional one per cent, on December
15. On all taxes remaining unpaid on January 1, Inter
est at the rate of twelve per cent, per annum, calculated
from the day the books were received by the Receiver of
Taxes to the day of payment, will be added. No money
will be received after 2 o’clock P. M. Office hours from
gA.M.*Oa F. 4L BSBNABD SMYTH. Beewor.
re ’ pec ‘f
athis office, ’
Se. 697 Eroadway, corner Fourth Street.
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ri f' Cipa of • t s® - Ru P tur ® Curative Institute, New
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None of the pains and injuries resulting from the use
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Prices to suit all classes. It is the only as well as the
cheapest remedy ever offered the afflicted. Photographic
likenesses of cases before and after treatment furnished
on receipt of two three-cent stamps.
23d Street. Chambers St. IjJ TRAINS LEA VEDQiSG
DUCK DEPOT, Jersey City,
as follows, viz.:
6:45 A.M. 6:45 A.M. For Paterson.
7:45 A.M. 8:00 A.M. .Express Mail, for Buffalo, Dun
kirk. Cleveland and the West;
also connects with Newburgh,
Warwick, Montgomery, Un
ionville and Honesdale. Sleep
ing coaches attached from
.Susquehanna to Buffalo. •
8:15 A.M. 8:30 A.M. Way Train, daily, lor Grey
court and intermediate sta
tions, west of Passaic Bridge;
connects at Goshen for Pine
Island, Montgomery and Guil
8:15 A.M. 8:30 A.M. .Special Sunday Train for Mid
dletown, and intermediate sta
8:45 A. M. 9:03 A.M. For Hackensack and Hills
9:15 A.M. 9:30 A.M. For Piermont, Nyack and Mon
9:45 A.M. 10:00 A.M. Day Express, for Rochester,
Buffalo. Dunkirk, Cleveland,
Cincinnati, and the West and
South. Superb Drawing-room
Coaoiies accompany this tram
from New York to Buffalo.
Sleeping Coaches aro attached
at Hornellsville. running
through to Cleveland and
Galion for the accommodation
of XV estern and Southern pas
sengers respective! l ..
10:15 A.M. 10.15 A.M. For Paterson.
11:15 A.M. 11:30 A.M. For Port Jervis and way, daily;
connects at Middletown for
11:15 AM. 12:00 M. For Paterson; also for Hack
ensack and Hillsdale.
12:45 P.M. 1:00 P.M. For Piermont and Nyack.
1:45 P.M. 1:45 P.M. For Paterson, daily.
2:15 P.M. 2:15 P.M. For Hackensack
3:15 P.M. 3:30 P.M. Newburgh Express, stopping
only at Paterson and stations
north of Junction, to New
3:15 P.M. 3:30 P.M. Middletown way. Also for
Piermont and Nyack.
3:45 P.M. 4:00 P.M. For Paterson; also for Hack
ensack and Hillsdale.
4:15 P.M. 4:15 P.M. For Piermont. Nyack and
4.15 P.M. 4:30 P.M. Orange County Express. stopping
only at Turner’s, and stations
west of Turner’s (except Ox
ford) to Port Jervis. Connects
for Newburgh, Warwick,
Montgomery, Guilford, Pine
Island and Unionville; also
for Piermont and Nyack.
4:45 P.M. 5:00 P.M. Suffern Accommodation, stopping
only at Paterson and stations
west of Paterson. Also for
Piermont, Nyack and Monsey.
5:15 P.M. 5:15 P.M. For Paterson and Hackensack.
5:15 P.M. 5:30 P.AL Night Express, for Buffalo,
Dunkirk, Cleveland, Cincin
nati and the West and South.
Sleeping coaches run through
from New York to Buffalo.
5:45 P.M. 6:00 P.M. Way Train, for Suffern and in
termediate stations. Also for
Hackensack and Hillsdale.
6:46 P.M. 7:00 P.M. Night Express, daily, for all
points West and South. Sleep
ing coaches accompany this
train to Rochester, Buffalo,
Cleveland and Cincinnati
without change.
6:15 P.M. 6:30 P.M. For Piermont and Nyack.
6:45 P.M. 6:45 P.M. For Paterson and intermedi-
stations, also for Hackensack.
7:45 P.M. 7:45 P.M. Emigrant Train, daily, for the
11:00 P.AI. H:3OP.M. TheatreTrain, daily, for Suffern
and intermediate stations. 1
11:45 P.M. 12:00 P.M. Saturdays only, Theatre Train,
for Nyack.
Tickets for passage and for Apartments in Drawing
room and Sleeping Coaches can be obtained, and orders
for the checking and transfer of Baggage may be left,
at the Company’s offices—Nos. 241, 529 and9s7 Broadway;
No. 205 Chambers street; No. 38 Greenwich street; Cor.
125th street and Third avenue, Harlem; No. 338 Fulton
street, Brooklyn; Depots foot of Chambers street, and
foot of Twenty-third street. New York; No. 3 Exchange
Place, and Long Dock Depot. Jersey City, and of the
Agents at the principal hotels.
Gen’l Sup’t. G’l Pass’r Agent.
July sth, 1870.
J SEV.—Passenger and Freight Depot
in New York, foot of Liberty street;
nects at Somerville with South Branch,
R. R,; at Hampton Junction with the Delaware, Lacka
wanna, and Western Railroad, at Phillipsburg with the
Lehigh and Susquehanna R. R.; and at Easton with the
Lehigh Valley Railroad and its connections, forming a
direct line to Pittsburgh and the West, without change
of cars; also, to Central Pennsylvania and Now York
Commencing June I,lß7o.—Leave New York as follows:
5:30 A.M.—JBor Plainfield.
6A.M—For Flemington, Easton. Bethlehem, Mauch
Chunk, Wilkesbarre, Pittston, Alahanoy City, Tunk
hannock, Towanda, Waverly, &c.
7:45 A. M.—For Easton.
12 M.—For Flemington, Easton, Allentown, Mauch
Chunk, Wilkesbarre, Reading, Columbia, Lancaster,
Ephrata, Litiz, Pottsvtlle, Harrisburg, &c.
2 P. Al.—For Easton, Allentown, and Mauch Chunk.
3:30 P. M.—For Easton, Allentown, Mauch Chunk, and.
4:30 P. M— For Somerville and Flemington.
5:15 P. M.—For Somerville.
6 P.M.—For Easton.
7P. M.—For Somerville.
8 P. M.—(Emigrant)—For Easton and the West.
9 P. M.—For Plainfield.
12 P. M.—For Plainfield on Wednesdays and Satur-
leave for Elizabeth at 5:30.6:00, 6:30. 7:10, 7:45,
8:30, 9:00, 9:30, 10:30, 11:40 A. M.; 12:00 M.: 1.00, 2:03.
2-15 3:15, 3:30, 4:00, 4:30, 4:45, 5:15, 5:39, 5:45, 6:00, 6:30.
7 : 00 740 8:00, 8:20, 9:00. 10:45,12:00 P. Al. ’ ’
4.UU, 4.1 U, , FOK THE WfisT>
9 A.M.—Western Express, daily (except Sundays),
for Easton, Allentown, Harrisburg, and the West. Con
nects at Harrisburg for Erie and the Oil Regions. Con
nects at Somerville for Flemington. Connects at
Junction for Stroudsburg, Water Gap, Scranton,
Brighamoton, Syracuse, Ac. Connects at Phillips
burg and Easton for Mauch Cnunk, William-port' l
Wilkesbarre, Ac.
5 P. M.—Cincinnati Express, daily, for Easton, Beth
lehem. Allentown, Reading, Harrisburg, Pittsburgh,
Chicago, and Cincinnati. Sleeping and Palace cars to
Pittsburgh and Chicago. Connects at Junction with
Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad for Scran-
Sleeping cars through from Jersey City to Pittsburgh
every evening.
Tickets for the West can be obtained at the office of
the Central Railroad of New Jersey, foot of Liberty St.,
N. Y.; at No. 1 Astor House; Nos. 254, 271,526 Broadway;
at No. 10 Greenwich street, and at the principal hotels.
R, E. RICKER, Superintendent.
H- P- Baldwin, Gen. Pass. Agt.
one interview, with or without medicin j or elec
tricity. without inconvenience or danger guaranteed,
by DR. PERRY. All private complaints, either se.',
scientifically treated, without mercury. Office strict y
private. No. 55 Bieeokerst. Hours, 9t09; Sundays, 2to 5.
TO LADlES.—Aladame WALD gAI AR, the wid
ow of a Russian physician, has an infallible preventive
for married ladies. Safe and healthful—no medicine,
mechanism or inconvenience. Sent to any address on
receipt of price, $2, by addressing Aladame Waldemar.
Box 25, No. 683 Broadway.
All private diseases cured in
trona 24 to 48 hours without mercury. Twenty years
Prussian hospital exj erience. To Ladies in trouble, Dr.
FrankUn, No. 161 B’.e joker street, guari ntees relief in 24
hours. No fee unless perfectly satisfied.
Great Social Evils and Abuses,
Whioh interfere with AIARRIAGE, with sure means of
relief for the Erriog and Unfortunate, diseased, and de
Sent in sealed envelopes, free of charge.
TION. No. 2 South Ninth st., PHILADELPHIA, Pa.
cured by Dr. Evans, No. 94 Chatflam st. Only
medicines to cure. Manhood restored by his Elixir. Re
commended before marriage.
"always SUR^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-eighth
St., near Third Ave. Exclusive board and attendance.
Relief positive. No deception. No quaekery.
iLg best rubber goods, 25c. and 40c. each. $2, $3 and
$4 doz. Write or calL Willis & Co., 340 Canal st.. N. Y.
JJJL STORED -Just Published by DR. LEWIS, 054
Pages, Second Edition.) THE MEDICAL COMPAN
ION AND GUIDE TO HEALTH, on the radical cure
of Spermatorrhoea, or Seminal Weakness. Involuntary
Seminal Losses, Impotency, Mental and Physical Inca
pacity, Impediments to Marriage, etc., and the Venereal
and Syphilitic Maladies, with plain and clear directions
for the speedy cure of Secondary Symptoms. Gonor
rhoea, Gleets, Strictures, and all diseases of the skin,
such as Scurvy, Sorolula, Ulcers, Boils. Blotehes and
Pimples on the face and body. Consumption, Epilepsy,
and Fite, induced by self-indulgence or sexual extrav
Tne celebrated author, in this admirable Treatise,
clearly demonstrates, from a forty years’ successful prac
tice, that the alarming consequence 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 centa.
Address, DR. LEWIS, No. 7 Beach street, New York.
MEN’S DIFFICULTIES never disappoint. Price
No. 94 Chatham st.
Evant. No. 94 Chatham st.. N. Y. His Female
Pilis and Drops give unfailing relief, without suffering
or publicity; successful at one trial.
/w Ladies, with or without medicine, by Madame
RESTELL, Professor of Midwifery; over 30 years’ prac
tice. Her infallible French Female Pills, No. 1, price $L
or No. 2. special!/ prepared for married ladies, price $5,
which can never fail, are saie and healthy. Sold only at
her office, Mo. 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 couu
I J Surgical treatment for the removal of all special
irregularities or obstructions, may with confidence con-
DB. DURALNT. No. 7 Beach street,
near West Broadway, New York.
JL/ Manhood restored in fifteen minutes. Recom
mended before marrUge. Price* Ko. M Chatham
•UN* Y
Sunday Edition. November 13.
, j Aßk’> <or any case of the follow-
mg dis.ases which tne medical fa- y
rJ’ ronoun ceJ incurable that / Z* \
' H not- radically cure. Dr. Ri-f I
f. ‘a* No. 1 will cure I I
fiy puias m its Primary and Secondary \ I
suc < 1 asold Ulcers and Ulcer- \ /
§°re Throat, ‘Sore Eyes, iSkin y
ST el?L ons ’ eness of the Scalp, and
cuvv-t^nrnn^ili 6 dl ® oase disease and mor-
Dr ■ Rirh^™ Pn £ 8 1** 5 pcr bofcfc >e» or two bottles $9.
d a n sam No - 2 ehre the third
rial S ßhpmn»^ iary S - vl,hlli - s > where Syphilitic and Meruu-
with the Primary and
Jo h S ve h P n dreds of certificates where mi-
Patienta Stlnd I* 6 ? effected b - v these remedies,
x'atients eat and drink what they like, and reauire nn
find MM-cu I riai Ca ßh™ m I |“ ndre ‘l. s ™ ffer frolfi SjPMitia
and Who are not aware of it.
of thi. t?*v.' n ” ra ' iic '-l cure without theusa
ol tnis medicine. Its beneficial effects are felt at onU.
have liSn H? “T from h 03 »‘ tal beds in one week, who
tne oitv- a .n<1 B (L f ? ryoi l rsu^ th9
« “I reil'calcure for the worst di»-
“tort* Pnce per bottle, or two boU
and r rad?r , n < i U m Gol< l 8n a safe, speedy, pleasant
(taavnl for , Gonorrhce a. Gleet, Irritation,
131 dWeeHni?? &? ar ' v d , oi ' r '?sements, acoomnanied with
Dr SehSS; <^l“; rn “be eyre- t’-'ico $3 per bottle.
i Golden Elixir d’Amour, a radical cure
General Debility in old or
vitality and imparting onerjjy with woiwipi-fni
Wh .° H? ve led a ’ ife of sensuality oi-self
“Suable to those who are anxious for an
T? family Nothing more certain in its effects
mo ? t Powerful ingredients of the
har “ les ®» but speedy in restoring
b ? t & e ’ or . two bottles for $9.
1 ’ 1 beral disooun t.
directions JLrregularitios - Pri ce $lO per bottle, with
On receipt of price, these remedies will be shipped to
any part free from observation ; correspondents an
swered confidentially ; hours for consultation 9 A. M. to
genuine without name of Dr. Richau’s
Golden Remedies. D. B. Richards. Sole Proprietor,
blown m glass of bottles. Observe well trade mark on.
ou-SKie wrapper and written signatures on inside label.
Addres. pr D. B. HIOHARDS, No. 228 Varick street,
.h e w Y ork city.
Send money by Post office order, express or draft.
Goods sent C. O. D.
.Ky ans, No. 94 Chatham st., removes trouble atons
-K Twenty-five years’ successful practice. Always
safe; always sure. Dr. and Madame DUBOIS. No 154
G. Iwenty-eighth St. Electricity scientiiicallv applied.
A at homo, can be provided with superior board, nurs
ing, and medical attendance during confinement, and
their children adopted to good homes, if desired.
DU. DURANT. No. 7 Beach st., N. Y.
GRINDLE, Professor of Mtdvvifery. over 20 years’
successiul practice in this oity, guarantees certain relief
to ladies, with or without medicine. Sure rebel th the
‘t anxious patient, in 24hours. Residence, No. 120
West i wenty-sixth street, near S.xth avenue, Elegant
rooms for lauies requiring nursing.
JIL MEN—Never-tailing, harmless, without medicine,
me; ’.aaisni or inconvenience. Send stamp fcr “Married
Woman s Private Friend,’’ to Box 197, Hoboken, N. J.
guarantees that none
mZS wcare unwi cured and stored to sound and
’ Beackstrest ’
Lathes, the greatest disoOvt
'Laurens Etreetk is the only relia de physician
in l r 2 u b le - A’aise who have tried medical
genuemen, and have received no relief, are invited ta
oetor guarantees a p umanent cure, and
° ha o?® untll the patient is per:eel Ij-cured.
in n TnsHt!ita B h^“ Cient sati3t y tne skeptical. The Lyin >
i e . has .superior accommodations, a competent
»J e o «to a a dan °’ aa ‘ i «>•
AND-MANHOOD for young
JLVJL and Midwife, can be consulted at No. 42 St. Mark’s
place, near Second evenue. Having hud twenty-live
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.
cured by Dr. MANUHES, No. W1 Broidwa t. Sem
inal Pills, for norvous debility, fl per boi, or six boxes
$5, by mail or at office. Circulars sent.
DUBOIS, Professor of Midwifery, twenty-five
years’ successiul practice, guarantees relief at one inter
view, with or without medicine. Her family medicines,
ssl No. 154 East Twenty-eighth street, west cf Thirtf
aven .e._No deception. No quackery.
Dr. lewis," author of the _«
ical Companion and Guide to Health,” No. 7 Beach
street. Those who apply in the early stage of dis
ease will be surprised ab tne ease and rapidity of the
euro. Forty years’ private practice.
French inventions for
Save hundred times cost. $3 per dozen, at No. 91
Chatham su, N. Y.
Notice —dr. lewis, no. 7 beach
street, near West Broadway, can be consulted daily,
from 9 A. M. to 8 P. M., and on Sundays, from 10 A. M.
to 12 M.
The most wonderful, reliable and certain remedy, as
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
be the celebrated
Thousands of lad* 6B have used them with infallible car
taßead what 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 bo be
tree from the usual symptoms attending pregnancy, it
was not supposed that the stoppage arose 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 timp, 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 i n f or jy
eight Hours. Price, $3 per box. In obstinate cases, thosa
two degrees should be Frree. ¥5.
Professor of Diseases of Women,
Sole Agent ana Proprietor for upward of twenty yeari
They are sent by mail, in ordinary letter envelopes, with
full instructions and advice.
.Dr. A. M. Mauriceau, for twenty’yeavs successful prac
titioner af 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 States consult him
confidence and certainty of success.
Only certain cure for worst private diseases, at No.
94 Chatham st.
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 60
and $3 00 per bottle. Gentlemen’a genuine A Do, 1 con
veniences, under all circumstances, price, two for $ l 00,
or $5 00 yer dozen. I can be consulted at my office oa
all diseases of a delicate nature by ladies or gentlemen.
Scientific treatment guaranteed to all. GEORGE R.
BOND, M. l)., No. 196 Eim street, between Broome and
Spring streets.
gentlemen, at $3, $4, and $5 per dozen, three for
sl7 jour for sl. Ladies’Protectors, *l. >2. 's3 each.
Circulars free. Call on or address Dr. MAN CHES. No.
651 Broadway.
npo LADIES—Dr. Evans’ Powerful Pill,
B and Drops, unfailing, safe, certain. All whose
health will not permit of their becoming mothers, call
or address Dr. Evans, No. 94 Chatham st., N. Y.
Nervous and physical debell
ty and all ether special diseases scientifically and
successfully treated by Dr. LEWIS, No. 7 Beach streob.
No case undertaken, or fee accepted, unless a cure can ba
guaranteed. Forty years private practice.
Reader, this article may not concern you at all. If you
have never suffered from disease of the organs of genera
tion, such as Spermalorrhooea, 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 e/tra exertion produce palpitation of the
heart? Does your liver or urinary organs or your kidneys
frequently get out of order ? Is your urine sometimes
thick, milky or flooky, or is it ropy on settling? Or
does a thick scum rise to the ton? Or a sediment in
the bottom after it hag stood a while " Do you have spells
of short breathing or dyspepsia? 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 subject? Do you
feel listless, mop’ng, tired of company, of life ? Do you
wish to be left alone—to get away from everybody? Does
any little thing make you start or jump? Is you r 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 you often reel ashamed of
yourself, thinking that everybody that looks atvou 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 pur ßU e
your business with the same energy? Do you feel as
much confidence in yourself I Are your spirits dull and
flagging, given to tits 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 appeo
tite, and you attribute this to Dyspepsia or Liver Com
plaint? Did you ever tell your doctor that you had prao*
(iced masturbation, or that you had suffered from&MU*
cured gonorrhea, or syphillis, or from venereal excesses?
Perhaps you never thought of confiding those things to
him; and if you had, it is. a question whether his mod
esty would have allowed him to question you closely on
tne point for fear of offending, you; and if he had ex-
E noted anythind of the kind, being your family nhvsician
e durst not for the world, have hinted at the thintr fo»
f e ar of your becoming indignant and insulted.
Now. reader, self-abuse, venereal diseases badly ourea
and sexual excesses,.are all capable of producing a weak
ness of the generative organs. The organs of genera
tion, when *n 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 heas
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 them right in the
face—none of your down .looks or any other meanness
about them. Ido net 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-
from badly-cured
from’fie effaet, ol wU-abuß, and exoMW,. bare
about that Btate of weakneM in theso almost
raduood the general sy,tem «o much M W 'nauoe almost
taSubla'SSWv?r JSp«^t’ed an and hare doctored for all
but the right one. mtDDLE-AGED, and even OLD.
TO THK YOUNGj “ and Mentat
who are dd»troyin< con troled passions, or who are al-
Happmess by by the folly of the past,
ready weakened aim know the sure result if
Why .n O t O t a h : U dl^i«rer a m and delta,, you mind and
you allow the airea, w j, w h renders
body? W yo«woma* v or mM . ri9d [if. , failure
timef ««Al no/«to m0n0,17 keep you from
knoTn ’your trouble, and reoetrimr a ear. and
5 bar. cured THOUBknDS and will you. a
m MMorn A .bort tune under my treatnSn.
JriS make you a new man, and .end yon forth into the
of the “Medieal Companion and Guide to
” can be confidentially consulted at his old est»b*
tothed office. No. 7 BEACH STREET, near West Bro*dU
• v Mew York. B'ortv years private practice.
" (Jtfioe nours from 9A.M.t08 P. M. Bunday ß *
A, m. to n M. ipoprriflUM.j

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