Chapter XI: Gabriel (1)

I know not how to set down properly such a narrative as this, and, therefore, should be excused for such mistakes as may occur through ignorance and inexperience.

It is with the attack upon Georgetown that I must end this portion of the adventures which befell Percy and myself during the time we served under General Marion, and it may be the story should be continued straight on without any heed whatsoever to those who fought with us, although in the same squad.

Whether it be right or wrong, I cannot well neglect to speak of the part played by that other party of twenty who volunteered their lives as eagerly as did we who followed Captain Melton, and what I write concerning them must, of course, be from hearsay.

Therefore it seems to me proper to tell first the story of Colonel Horry's squad, as I have heard it related again and again, before attempting to set down that which I know of my own knowledge.

When the forty volunteers were divided into two squads there was no time lost, as I have already said, in setting forward upon that mission which we believed could be fully accomplished only through the sacrifice of us all, and we parted at the limits of the temporary halting place, Captain Melton leading his force to the right, while Colonel Horry began the reconnoiter by bearing to the left.

As to what befell the first squad, this is as I have heard it related:

They continued on through the woods until near to daybreak, when, as Colonel Horry himself has said, and I am now quoting from his official account, he "laid an ambuscade, with my twenty men, near the road. About sunrise a chair appeared with two ladies escorted by two British officers. I was ready in advance with an officer to cut them off, but reflecting that they might escape, and alarm the town, which would prevent my taking greater numbers, I desisted. The officers and chair halted very near me, but soon the chair went on, and the officers galloped into the town. Our party continued in ambush until 10 o'clock.

"Nothing appearing, and we having eaten nothing for many hours, retired to a plantation not far distant, where I knew were to be found friends. As soon as I entered the house four ladies appeared, two of whom were Mrs. White and her daughter. I was asked what I wanted. I answered, food, refreshment. The other two ladies were those whom I had seen escorted by the British officers.

"The strange ladies seemed greatly agitated, and begged most earnestly that I would go away. I kept my eye on Mrs. White, and saw she had a smiling countenance, but said nothing. Soon she left the room, and I left it also and went into the piazza, laid my cap, sword and pistols on the long bench, and walked the piazza; when I discovered Mrs. White behind the house chimney beckoning me.

"I got to her undiscovered by the young ladies, when she said: 'Colonel Horry, be on your guard; these two young ladies are just from Georgetown; they are much frightened, and I believe the British are leaving it and may soon attack you. As to provisions, I have plenty in yonder barn, but you must affect to take them by force.'

"I begged her to say no more, for I was well acquainted with all such matters. We both secretly returned, she to the room where the young ladies were, and I to the piazza I had just left."

The colonel had no more than gained this point, when the sentinels gave an alarm.

Two musket-shots told him that an enemy was near at hand, and almost immediately afterward the firing became so rapid that he knew an encounter was already begun.

That brave officer thought only of his men, and so nearly were the interests of the squad allied, that he forgot all else save the desire to be with them in the time of danger.

He rushed into the fight, forgetting to take with him even his saber--intent only on being with those who had so well proven their devotion to the Cause.

The British were seventeen in number, well armed, and commanded by a brave fellow named Merritt; but they were taken by surprise.

The redcoats retreated, but turned in their flight to strike a blow, and our men, believing they had been ordered on even to death, pursued with fatal earnestness.

Of the enemy's force only two men escaped death or capture, and one of these was the captain, of whom Colonel Horry writes:

"My men in succession came up with Captain Merritt, who was in the rear of his party, urging them forward. They engaged him. He was a brave fellow. Baxter, with pistols, fired at his breast, and missing him, retired; Postell and Greene, with swords, engaged him; both were beaten off. Greene nearly lost his head. His buckskin breeches were cut through several inches. I almost blush to say that this one British officer beat off three Americans. Merritt escaped to a neighboring swamp, from whence, at midnight, he got to Georgetown."

I would it were possible for me to give as brief an account, with as satisfactory an ending, regarding our portion of the reconnoiter.

As has been said, after crossing White's Bridge the two squads separated, Colonel Horry's going toward the left and ours to the right.

Then it was, as we rode on slowly, mentally nerved for anything which might happen and fully expecting sharp and bloody work at any instant, that Gabriel Marion said, looking first at Percy and then at me:

"Perhaps it will never again be our good fortune, comrades, to have such an opportunity of proving our metal as has come to us this night. Now I am in nowise eager for death; but to my mind there is little fear that the end be near at hand. Although the odds are so strongly against us, we shall take this post of Georgetown, and I believe it because my uncle, the major, is a careful, prudent soldier, never taking upon himself chances that are utterly without hope, although many times the fact may have seemed to be the reverse. We shall capture Georgetown, comrades, and if either of us fails to come out alive, we have the proud satisfaction of knowing that whatsoever befalls the Cause our names must live among those who volunteered everything for freedom."

"I hold to it that this is not the time for such speeches," Gavin Witherspoon said nervously; and had I not known him to be a man of tried courage I should have said that at that moment he was afraid. "These forty men who came forward so gallantly understood full well in what kind of an adventure they were engaged. It does not prove that his courage is the greatest who speaks overly much regarding the future."

"Meaning by such speech, that I had best hold my tongue," Gabriel said with a laugh. "Perhaps you may be right, and yet there is upon me the inclination to speak of what we have ventured, in order that I may be the better able to appreciate life after it has been offered as a sacrifice and refused."

"I guarantee that once we are come out from this expedition, you will need no thought of the past to make you understand that we rode down the very shadow of death, when we crossed yonder bridge, and this I say, not because there is in my mind any foreknowledge of the future, but from what I know regarding the enemy. I realize, without being told, that ours is as desperate an undertaking as men can well imagine."

"I am thinking that your words, Gavin Witherspoon, are as ill-timed as were Gabriel's, for while he spoke of what might be our reward, you are weighing, as it were, the chances against us, and to my mind it is not pleasant," Percy said with an attempt at cheerfulness which I knew full well was forced, and, stepping nearer to the lad, I grasped his hand, an act which, perhaps, gave him as much encouragement as was in my mind to impart.

Gabriel continued to speak of the future, as if he had no part in the present, until word came that each man must hold himself silent because we were come so near the town that there was good reason for believing the enemy's sentinels might be close at hand.

We straggled on, each as he pleased, although there was some little show of military formation. Captain Melton was allowed to remain in the lead as he had stipulated, but we four comrades took good care not to fall back more than two or three paces, for we were minded to bear the brunt of the first encounter.

I had never before known what it was to advance against an enemy on foot, and the fact of being without a horse gave me a certain sense of uneasiness.

So far as we of these two advanced squads were concerned, there could be no sudden dash; no spurring forward into the very midst of the enemy. We must fight our way forward slowly, and, as it seemed to me, at a disadvantage.

However, it is true that my courage did not fail me, although my hand trembled with excitement, and my mouth was parched and dry as if I had been many hours without water.

Gabriel had just thrown his arm over my shoulder, to show the affection which was in his heart for us all, when the thud of horses' hoofs directly in the front told that the enemy were on the alert.

Instantly we were halted, every man in a posture of defense, and I venture to say that there was not one among us who did not wish he was in the saddle.

"Hold steady, boys!" Captain Melton whispered. "Yonder comes the patrol, and it may be they will turn before coming as far as this; but if not, we have our work cut out for us. The enemy must not pass this point lest our friends in the rear be discovered!"

Involuntarily we four had crouched upon our knees in such position that we could use the muskets to good advantage, and thus we remained in the front line while the horsemen galloped nearer and nearer until they were absolutely upon us.

"Fire!" our commander shouted, and from that little squad of crouching figures a line of fire flashed forth into the very nostrils of the animals, causing them to rear and plunge madly, thus diverting our bullets from their targets.

Three saddles were emptied when a full twenty would have been the result of the volley had we fired one minute before, and then every man among us began to reload his weapon with feverish haste, for but few seconds could elapse before the Britishers would charge.

"This is what may be called a real battle!" Gabriel cried exultantly; but no one replied.

Death for many of us was close at hand, and at such a time words do not come readily.

I was ramming home the bullet in my musket when the horsemen again dashed upon us from out the darkness; there came a roar as if a thousand guns had been discharged at the same instant, and all before me seemed to be a sheet of flame.

Of what followed during the next five or ten minutes I have no clear idea.

Before me reared and plunged the British horses, while here, there and everywhere I heard cries of rage or groans of mortal agony until it was all a hideous, whirling, dancing picture in which I could distinguish only the outlines of my comrades, who held their places bravely.

Side by side we fought against the redcoats, ignorant of the fact that we were alone, and then came the moment when all our muskets were emptied at the same instant.

The horsemen surrounded us; our weapons were of little service against the sabers of the enemy, and we understood it, although there was no thought of surrender in my mind until Gavin Witherspoon seized me by the arm, shouting in my ear:

"Surrender, lad, surrender! There is neither honor nor glory in dying when our lives are of no avail for the Cause!"

Even as he spoke three of the redcoats had clutched Gabriel and Percy.

I allowed my musket, which had been raised as a club, to drop, and immediately I felt, for the first time, the grasp of a Britisher.

We were prisoners. The glory of fighting to the bitter end with the knowledge that in so doing we were opening the way for those in the rear, was denied us, and but for the shame of it I could have wept like a girl.

And yet all this was as nothing compared with what followed.

The troopers were about to disarm us, and some one had fired a torch that we might be the better seen, when Sam Lee--that miserable Tory and renegade--came up from the rear, where most likely he had been skulking during the fighting, and, seeing us, set up a shout of triumph.

"Now have I got you rebels where I've been burning to see you?" he cried.

"Now we shall see----"

"Is that Sam Lee?" Gabriel shouted, struggling to release himself from his captor's grasp.

"Ay, and it is the cur who has sold his country, his kinsmen and himself for the king's gold!" Percy replied. "There is no dishonor in being overpowered by true soldiers in a fair fight; but to have such as that villain alive before one's eyes is a disgrace."

"It shall be worse than that to you!" Sam shrieked, "and as for that nephew of the rebel Marion, I----"

"What are you saying?" one of the troopers asked, seizing Sam Lee and shaking him as if to force the reply more quickly. "Is one of these a nephew to the Swamp Fox?"

"Ay, that he is!" Gabriel made answer, stepping forward as far as the hand of the captor would permit. "I am the nephew of General Marion, and proud indeed of the kinship!"

I was looking at the dear lad that instant, having turned my eyes from the scurvy Tory when Gabriel began to speak, otherwise, perhaps, I might have prevented that terrible thing which followed.

While the remainder of the party were looking at the brave lad who stood before them in the glare of the torches, Sam Lee, doubled-dyed villain that he was, rushed upon him with a saber which he had seized from the hand of the trooper.

In the flickering light I saw the gleam of the steel, and before a word of warning could escape my lips, the cruel weapon descended, striking Gabriel full upon the head, sheering its way downward until the dear lad sank a lifeless mass at the feet of that cur who was not worthy to so much as kneel before him.

On the instant it was as if my eyes were blinded by the crimson flood that followed the stroke of the blade. There was a sensation as if all my blood was boiling, and, for the time being, reason left me.

Gavin Witherspoon declares that I wrenched myself free from the trooper who held me, as if the Britisher had been no more than a babe, that at the same instant I leaped upon the Tory murderer, bearing him to the earth till his face was sunk deep in the blood-stained moss, and with the same weapon which had let out the life of the most gallant lad who ever lived, I killed him.

It was done so quickly, Gavin declares, that the redcoats had no time to interfere before the work was accomplished, and while they, horror-stricken as it were by that which was not warfare in any sense of the word, stood before us three--two dead and one senseless, the remainder of our squad fell upon them.

This last attack was successful; the Britishers were beaten off, and our brave fellows carried Gabriel's dear body, and myself, back to the rear.

The attempt to capture Georgetown was a failure, now that the enemy had been warned, and our brigade beat a hasty retreat.

Of all that I know nothing; it was many days before my senses returned, and then we were encamped on Snow's Island.

It is best that I add to my story what has been written by one who is a master hand at wielding a pen, while I am only a novice, and that I bring this portion of the adventures which befell Percy Sumter and myself to an end, with the promise to write out at some later day what we two did when the work of the patriots was finally crowned with success.

* * * * *

"The murder of Gabriel Marion, with some other instances of brutality and butchery on the part of the Tories, happening about this time, gave a more savage character than ever to the warfare which ensued. Motives of private anger and personal revenge embittered and increased the usual ferocities of civil war; and hundreds of dreadful and desperate tragedies caused the inhabitants to pursue each other rather like wild beasts than like men.

"In the Cheraw district, on the Pedee, above the line where Marion commanded, the warfare was one of utter extermination. The revolutionary struggle in Carolina was of a sort unknown in any other part of the Union.

"The attempt upon Georgetown was defeated. The British had taken the alarm, and were now in strength, and in a state of vigilance and activity which precluded the possibility of surprise. Marion's wishes, therefore, with regard to this place, were deferred accordingly to a more auspicious season.

"He retired to Snow's Island, where he made his camp. It was peculiarly eligible for his purposes, furnishing a secure retreat, a depot for his arms, ammunition, prisoners and invalids--difficult of access, easily guarded, and contiguous to the scenes of his most active operations.

"Snow's Island lies at the confluence of Lynch's Creek and the Pedee. On the east flows the latter river; on the west, Clark's Creek, issuing from Lynch's and a stream navigable for small vessels; on the north lies Lynch's Creek, wide and deep, but nearly choked by rafts of logs and refuse timber. The island, high river swamp, was spacious, and, like all the Pedee river swamp of that day, abounded in live stock and provision. Thick woods covered the elevated tracts, dense cane-brakes the lower, and here and there the eye rested upon a cultivated spot, in maize, which the invalids and convalescents were wont to tend.

"Here Marion made his fortress. Having secured all the boats of the neighborhood, he chose such as he needed, and destroyed the rest. Where the natural defenses of the island seemed to require aid from art, he bestowed it; and, by cutting away bridges and obstructing the ordinary pathways with timber, he contrived to insulate, as much as possible, the country under his command.

"From this fortress his scouting parties were sent forth nightly in all directions. Enemies were always easy to be found. The British maintained minor posts at Nelson's Ferry and Scott's Lake, as well as Georgetown; and the Tories on Lynch's Creek and Little Pedee were much more numerous, if less skilfully conducted, than the men of Marion.

"Marion's encampment implied no repose, no forbearance of the active business of war. Very far from it. He was never more dangerous to an enemy than when he seemed quiet in camp.

"His camp, indeed, was frequently a lure, by which to tempt the Tories into unseasonable exposure. The post at Snow's Island gave him particular facilities for this species of warfare. He had but to cross a river, and a three hours' march enabled him to forage in an enemy's country.

"Reinforcements came to him daily, and it was only now, for the first time, that his command began to assume the appearance, and exhibit the force of a brigade."

THE END

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"Mr. Henty has developed for himself a type of historical novel for boys which bids fair to supplement, on their behalf, the historical labors of Sir Walter Scott in the land of fiction."--_The Standard._

=Captain's Kidd's Gold=: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portuguese and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes--sinister-looking fellows who once on a time haunted the Spanish Main, sneaking out from some hidden creek in their long, low schooner, of picaroonish rake and sheer, to attack an unsuspecting trading craft. There were many famous sea rovers in their day, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Perhaps the most fascinating tale of all is Mr. Fitts' true story of an adventurous American boy, who receives from his dying father an ancient bit of vellum, which the latter obtained in a curious way. The document bears obscure directions purporting to locate a certain island in the Bahama group, and a considerable treasure buried there by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book, Paul Jones Garry, is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press.

=Captain Bayley's Heir=: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A frank, manly lad and his cousin are rivals in the heirship of a considerable property. The former falls into a trap laid by the latter, and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves England for America. He works his passage before the mast, joins a small band of hunters, crosses a tract of country infested with Indians to the Californian gold diggings, and is successful both as digger and trader.

"Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the Westminster dustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled."--_Christian Leader._

=For Name and Fame=; or, Through Afghan Passes. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

An interesting story of the last war in Afghanistan. The hero, after being wrecked and going through many stirring adventures among the Malays, finds his way to Calcutta and enlists in a regiment proceeding to join the army at the Afghan passes. He accompanies the force under General Roberts to the Peiwar Kotal, is wounded, taken prisoner, carried to Cabul, whence he is transferred to Candahar, and takes part in the final defeat of the army of Ayoub Khan.

"The best feature of the book--apart from the interest of its scenes of adventure--is its honest effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan people."--_Daily News._

=Captured by Apes=: The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 12mo, cloth, $1.00.

The scene of this tale is laid on an island in the Malay Archipelago. Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, of New York, sets sail for Eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. The vessel is wrecked off the coast of Borneo and young Garland, the sole survivor of the disaster, is cast ashore on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. The lad discovers that the ruling spirit of the monkey tribe is a gigantic and vicious baboon, whom he identifies as Goliah, an animal at one time in his possession and with whose instruction he had been especially diligent. The brute recognizes him, and with a kind of malignant satisfaction puts his former master through the same course of training he had himself experienced with a faithfulness of detail which shows how astonishing is monkey recollection. Very novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. Mr. Prentice has certainly worked a new vein on juvenile fiction, and the ability with which he handles a difficult subject stamps him as a writer of undoubted skill.

=The Bravest of the Brave=; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by H. M. Paget. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completely fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peterborough. This is largely due to the fact that they were overshadowed by the glory and successes of Marlborough. His career as general extended over little more than a year, and yet, in that time, he showed a genius for warfare which has never been surpassed.

"Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to enforce the doctrine of courage and truth. Lads will read 'The Bravest of the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure."--_Daily Telegraph._

=The Cat of Bubastes=: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A. Henty. With full page Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A story which will give young readers an unsurpassed insight into the customs of the Egyptian people. Amuba, a prince of the Rebu nation, is carried with his charioteer Jethro into slavery. They become inmates of the house of Ameres, the Egyptian high-priest, and are happy in his service until the priest's son accidentally kills the sacred cat of Bubastes. In an outburst of popular fury Ameres is killed, and it rests with Jethro and Amuba to secure the escape of the high-priest's son and daughter.

"The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated."--_Saturday Review._

=With Washington at Monmouth=: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Three Philadelphia boys, Seth Graydon "whose mother conducted a boarding-house which was patronized by the British officers;" Enoch Ball, "son of that Mrs. Ball whose dancing school was situated on Letitia Street," and little Jacob, son of "Chris, the Baker," serve as the principal characters. The story is laid during the winter when Lord Howe held possession of the city, and the lads aid the cause by assisting the American spies who make regular and frequent visits from Valley Forge. One reads here of home-life in the captive city when bread was scarce among the people of the lower classes, and a reckless prodigality shown by the British officers, who passed the winter in feasting and merry-making while the members of the patriot army but a few miles away were suffering from both cold and hunger. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are given show that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study.

=For the Temple=: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by S. J. Solomon. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Mr. Henty here weaves into the record of Josephus an admirable and attractive story. The troubles in the district of Tiberias, the march of the legions, the sieges of Jotapata, of Gamala, and of Jerusalem, form the impressive and carefully studied historic setting to the figure of the lad who passes from the vineyard to the service of Josephus, becomes the leader of a guerrilla band of patriots, fights bravely for the Temple, and after a brief term of slavery at Alexandria, returns to his Galilean home with the favor of Titus.

"Mr. Henty's graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman sway add another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world."--_Graphic._

=Facing Death=; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

"Facing Death" is a story with a purpose. It is intended to show that a lad who makes up his mind firmly and resolutely that he will rise in life, and who is prepared to face toil and ridicule and hardship to carry out his determination, is sure to succeed. The hero of the story is a typical British boy, dogged, earnest, generous, and though "shamefaced" to a degree, is ready to face death in the discharge of duty.

"The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much reality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we would recommend."--_Standard._

=Tom Temple's Career.= By Horatio Alger. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Tom Temple, a bright, self-reliant lad, by the death of his father becomes a boarder at the home of Nathan Middleton, a penurious insurance agent. Though well paid for keeping the boy, Nathan and his wife endeavor to bring Master Tom in line with their parsimonious habits. The lad ingeniously evades their efforts and revolutionizes the household. As Tom is heir to $40,000, he is regarded as a person of some importance until by an unfortunate combination of circumstances his fortune shrinks to a few hundreds. He leaves Plympton village to seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to California, around which center the most exciting incidents of his young career. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinating style, and is bound to please the very large class of boys who regard this popular author as a prime favorite.

=Maori and Settler=: A Story of the New Zealand War. By G. A. Henty. With full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The Renshaws emigrate to New Zealand during the period of the war with the natives. Wilfrid, a strong, self-reliant, courageous lad, is the mainstay of the household. He has for his friend Mr. Atherton, a botanist and naturalist of herculean strength and unfailing nerve and humor. In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealand valleys.

"Brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting conversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life."--_Schoolmaster._

=Julian Mortimer=: A Brave Boy's Struggle for Home and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Here is a story that will warm every boy's heart. There is mystery enough to keep any lad's imagination wound up to the highest pitch. The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the land of gold. One of the startling features of the book is the attack upon the wagon train by a large party of Indians. Our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck, a brave young American in every sense of the word. He enlists and holds the reader's sympathy from the outset. Surrounded by an unknown and constant peril, and assisted by the unswerving fidelity of a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy results. Harry Castlemon has written many entertaining stories for boys, and it would seem almost superfluous to say anything in his praise, for the youth of America regard him as a favorite author.

"=Carrots=:" Just a Little Boy. By Mrs. Molesworth. With Illustrations by Walter Crane. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

"One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good fortune to meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delightful little beings, whom to read about is at once to become very fond of."--_Examiner._

"A genuine children's book; we've seen 'em seize it, and read it greedily. Children are first-rate critics, and thoroughly appreciate Walter Crane's illustrations."--_Punch._

=Mopsa the Fairy.= By Jean Ingelow. With Eight pages of Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

"Mrs. Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living writers for children, and 'Mopsa' alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive right to the love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius to conceive a purely imaginary work which must of necessity deal with the supernatural, without running into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity; but genius Miss Ingelow has and the story of 'Jack' is as careless and joyous, but as delicate as a picture of childhood."--_Eclectic._

=A Jaunt Through Java=: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain. By Edward S. Ellis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

The central interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across the island of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the Royal Bengal tiger runs at large; where the rhinoceros and other fierce beasts are to be met with at unexpected moments; it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience. Hermon not only distinguishes himself by killing a full-grown tiger at short range, but meets with the most startling adventure of the journey. There is much in this narrative to instruct as well as entertain the reader, and so deftly has Mr. Ellis used his material that there is not a dull page in the book. The two heroes are brave, manly young fellows, bubbling over with boyish independence. They cope with the many difficulties that arise during the trip in a fearless way that is bound to win the admiration of every lad who is so fortunate as to read their adventures.

=Wrecked on Spider Island=; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

A "down-east" plucky lad who ships as cabin boy, not from love of adventure, but because it is the only course remaining by which he can gain a livelihood. While in his bunk, seasick, Ned Rogers hears the captain and mate discussing their plans for the willful wreck of the brig in order to gain the insurance. Once it is known he is in possession of the secret the captain maroons him on Spider Island, explaining to the crew that the boy is afflicted with leprosy. While thus involuntarily playing the part of a Crusoe, Ned discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and overhauling the timbers for the purpose of gathering material with which to build a hut finds a considerable amount of treasure. Raising the wreck; a voyage to Havana under sail; shipping there a crew and running for Savannah; the attempt of the crew to seize the little craft after learning of the treasure on board, and, as a matter of course, the successful ending of the journey, all serve to make as entertaining a story of sea life as the most captious boy could desire.

=Geoff and Jim=: A Story of School Life. By Ismay Thorn. Illustrated by A. G. Walker. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.

"This is a prettily told story of the life spent by two motherless bairns at a small preparatory school. Both Geoff and Jim are very lovable characters, only Jim is the more so; and the scrapes he gets into and the trials he endures will, no doubt, interest a large circle of young readers."--_Church Times._

"This is a capital children's story, the characters well portrayed, and the book tastefully bound and well illustrated."--_Schoolmaster._

"The story can be heartily recommended as a present for boys."--_Standard._

=The Castaways=; or, On the Florida Reefs. By James Otis. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

This tale smacks of the salt sea. It is just the kind of story that the majority of boys yearn for. From the moment that the Sea Queen dispenses with the services of the tug in lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward, and feel her rise to the snow-capped waves which her sharp bow cuts into twin streaks of foam. Off Marquesas Keys she floats in a dead calm. Ben Clark, the hero of the story, and Jake, the cook, spy a turtle asleep upon the glassy surface of the water. They determine to capture him, and take a boat for that purpose, and just as they succeed in catching him a thick fog cuts them off from the vessel, and then their troubles begin. They take refuge on board a drifting hulk, a storm arises and they are cast ashore upon a low sandy key. Their adventures from this point cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis is a prime favorite. His style is captivating, and never for a moment does he allow the interest to flag. In "The Castaways" he is at his best.

=Tom Thatcher's Fortune.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 12mo, cloth, price $1.00.

Like all of Mr. Alger's heroes, Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports his mother and sister on meager wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John Simpson's factory. The story begins with Tom's discharge from the factory, because Mr. Simpson felt annoyed with the lad for interrogating him too closely about his missing father. A few days afterward Tom learns that which induces him to start overland for California with the view of probing the family mystery. He meets with many adventures. Ultimately he returns to his native village, bringing consternation to the soul of John Simpson, who only escapes the consequences of his villainy by making full restitution to the man whose friendship he had betrayed. The story is told in that entertaining way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in so many homes.

=Birdie=: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. Childe-Pemberton. Illustrated by H. W. Rainey. 12mo, cloth, price 75 cents.