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over all, the Marchioness herself included-foring: "Can there be anything in it?”
Mrs. Warwick was one of those substantial New
England matrons who command every one's re-
spect, and are mothers and nurses by nature, as
well as by craft, to all around them.

On the Eve of His Wedding-Day. From Sidney Luska's "The Yoke of the Thorah." (Cassell.) As he had done upon a former and slightly similar occasion, and as he was wont to do whenever his spirits were in any degree perturbed, Elias climbed up-stairs to his studio, and sat down at the window. All day long the sun had shone bright and hot; but ever since dusk the sky had been clouding over; and now, plainly, a thunderstorm was near at hand. The atmosphere was thick, still, tepid. With increasing frequency shafts of jagged lightning tore their way through the clouds, and were followed by long, sullen, distant rumblings, as of suppressed fury somewhere. Suddenly a breeze sprang up, swelling quickly into a strong wind. The air filled with dust. The branches of the trees, over in the park, groaned aloud; and from here and there came the noise of banging shutters, and of loose things generally being knocked about. The flames in the street-lamps below flared violently. Some of them went out. Big drops of lukewarm water began to fall, splashing audibly where they struck. All at once, a blinding flash, a deafening peal of thunder, from right overhead; and the rain came pouring down in torrents.


his assurance that all would go well, he caught. himself furtively wishing that all was well over, and his marriage-certificate signed and sealed. "There is not a single chance of its taking place -not any more chance of its taking place than there is of the sun's failing to rise to-morrow morning." That phrase stuck like a thorn in his. mind, and produced a considerable irritation.

This state of things, besides being intrinsically unpleasant, was offensive to Elias's self-esteem. That he, at his age, in his stage of enlightenment, should be unsettled by the senseless menaces of a superstitious old bigot! Like a child frightened by its nurse's bugaboo. And yet, there it was again, the sharp, internal twinge, so like the sting of terror; and there again he fell to speculating upon what the causes of the old man's singular belief could be.

He sat at his window, peered out into the night, and tried to think of something else. He tried to. think of Christine, tried to call up her image, tried to live over again the evening that he had passed with her, tried to picture to himself the happiness that the coming day held in store. No use.. "There is no more chance of its taking place than there is of the sun's failing to rise to-morrow morning." The rabbi's voice kept ringing in his ears, like a hateful tune that one has heard, and can't get rid of.

The Romans.

From F. Marion Crawford's “Saracinesca." (Macmillan.)

Dr. Johnson would have liked the Romans, for in general they are good lovers and good haters, whatever faults they may have. The patriarchal system, which was all but universal twenty years ago, and is only now beginning to yield to more modern institutions of life, tends to foster the passions of love and hate. Where father and mother sit at the head and foot of the table, their sons with their wives and their children each in his or her place, often to the number of twenty souls-all living under one roof, one name, and one bond of family unity-there is likely to be a great similarity of feeling upon all questions of family pride, especially among people who discuss everything with vehemence, from European politics to the family cook. They may bicker and squabble among themselvesand they frequently do—but in their outward relations with the world they act as one individual, and the enemy of one is the enemy of all, for the pride of race and name is very great. There is a family in Rome who, since the memory of man, have not failed to dine together twice every week, and there are now more than thirty persons who take their places at the patriarchal board. No excuse can be pleaded for absence, and no one would think of violating the rule. Whether such a mode of life is good or not is a

Now, of course, Elias Bacharach-he in whose soul the man had long since worsted the Jew, and reason abolished superstition-of course, Elias knew that what his uncle had said about the God of Israel interposing to prevent his marriage, was the sheerest sort of rubbish. That the old gentleman had spoken in good faith-that he really believed in the validity of his own prophecies, and had not uttered them merely with a view to working upon his hearer's imagination, and exciting his fears-Elias could not doubt; for to resort to such strategy was not, he conceived, in the character of the artless and simple-minded rabbi. But that very good faith only proved him to be the victim of the most preposterous delusion. For himself, Elias had no misgivings. As confident as a mortal can be of any future event, in this world of uncertainties, so confident was he that the morrow evening would make of him and Christine man and wife. Of course, there was always the unforeseen to be allowed for; accidents were always possible. But if he had none but supermundane obstacles to dread, then he might regard his marriage as already an accomplished fact. And, notwithstanding, Elias felt very much disturbed-very much annoyed, mystified, and ill-at-ease. All that the rabbi had said was stuff and nonsense, at absolute, obvious variance with science, with simple common-sensefit material for laughter, for a certain contempt-matter of opinion; it is, at all events, a fact, and uous pity; but, nevertheless, every time that one not generally understood or even known by Elias recalled just what the rabbi had said, and persons who make studies of Italian character. the rabbi's manner of saying it, he felt a sharp, Free and constant discussion of all manner of inward pang, very like terror; he had to catch topics should certainly tend to widen the intellia quick, short breath; and he confessed to him- gence; but, on the other hand, where the dialecself that he would give a good deal to be enabled ticians are all of one race, and name, and blood, to get inside the rabbi's consciousness, and learn the practice may often merely lead to an undue the grounds on which he based his extraordinary, development of prejudice. In Rome, particubut apparently secure, conviction, and find out larly, where so many families take a distinct exactly what form of divine interference he antici- character from the influence of a foreign mother, pated. Despite his clear perception of the rab- the opinions of a house are associated with its bi's sophistry, he caught himself furtively query-mere name. Casa Borghese thinks so and so,


Picking Cranberries at Cape Cod.

From "A Week Away from Time." (Roberts.) The harvest of the cranberry is an important epoch to the dwellers on the south side of Cape Cod. It may be called the industry of that region, as the salting and packing of codfish is of other parts. Every autumn, before the hard frosts come, the "raccolte "of the berry takes place. The school-children are given a vacation of three or four days, and young and old devote themselves to the gathering of the fruit without which no Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner in New England is complete.

Casa Colonna has diametrically opposite views,
while Casa Altieri may differ wholly from both;
and in connection with most subjects the mere
names Borghese, Altieri, Colonna are associated
in the minds of Romans of all classes with dis-
tinct sets of principles and ideas, with distinct
types of character, and with distinctly different
outward and visible signs of race. Some of these
conditions exist among the nobility of other
countries, but not, I believe, to the same extent.
In Germany the aristocratic body takes a certain
uniform hue, so to speak, from the army, in which
it plays so important a part, and the patriarchal
system is broken up by the long absences from
the ancestral home of the soldier-sons.
France the main divisions of republicans, mon-
archists, and imperialists have absorbed and uni-
fied the ideas and principles of large bodies of
families into bodies politic. In England the
practice of allowing younger sons to shift for
themselves, and the division of the whole aristoc-
racy into two main political parties, destroy the
patriarchal spirit; while it must also be remem-
bered that at a period when in Italy the hand of
every house was against its neighbor, and the
struggles of Guelph and Ghibelline were but an
excuse for the prosecution of private feuds, Eng-
land was engaged in great wars which enlisted
vast bodies of men under a common standard for
a common principle. Whether the principle in-
volved chanced to be that of English domination
in France, or whether men flocked to the stand-
ards of the White Rose of York or the Red Rose
of Lancaster, was of little importance; the re-
sult was the same-the tendency of powerful fam-
ilies to maintain internecine traditional feuds was
stamped out, or rather was absorbed in the main-
tenance of the perpetual feud between the great
principles of Tory and Whig-of the party for
the absolute monarch, and the party for the free-
dom of the people.

Be the causes what they may, the Roman nobility has many characteristics peculiar to it and to no other aristocracy. It is cosmopolitan by its foreign marriages, renewed in every generation; it is patriarchal and feudal by its own unbroken traditions of family life; and it is only essentially Roman by its speech and social customs. It has undergone great vicissitudes during twenty years, but most of these features remain in spite of new and larger parties, new and bitter political hatreds, new ideas of domestic life, and new fashions in dress and cookery.

Morning Stars.

From "The Vacation Journal." (Randolph.)
When all the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy.-Job.
MERCURY, March 21 to May 27, July 29 to Sept. 10.
VENUS, after September 21.
MARS, the full six months.

SATURN, July 18 to Oct. 29.
NEPTUNE, May 18 to Aug. 23.


That full star that ushers in the even.
-Shakespeare, cxxxii. Sonnet.

MERCURY, May 27 to July 29, Sept. 10 to Nov.


VENUS, until September 21.
JUPITER, the full six months.
SATURN, until July 18.

URANUS, until Oct. 6.

NEPTUNE, until May 18, and after August 23.

This special bog, on this special day, presented memorable sight. A piece of cleared land of ten or twelve acres, of no great value for other purposes, had been consecrated to cranberry culture, and this year's yield was reported to be a remarkably fine one. The delicate vine, with its myrtle-green leaves, ran thick and close, close to the sandy soil; underneath, when you stooped to look, you saw the rich crimson berries, with a purple bloom on them. Indeed, when one looked over the whole wide acres, the ruddy fruit cast a warm tinge up through the green, as one sees the blood-red heart of the alexandrite glowing through the deep green of the


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This cranberry bog was set in a frame of bright foliage; shrub oaks, their leaves, "some stained as with blood, and made crimson, and some as with tears;" maples, scarlet and gold in the sunshine; red woodbine running riot over the trunks of old pines; all sorts of bright bushes and vines joining hands to dress the festival with the gayest they could give; and kneeling on the ground were women and children by scores, silently picking and filling the measures as if performing some sacred rite. Here and there a bright shawl on one of the women, or a gay handkerchief round a girl's neck, or a colored ribbon knotted in her braids, made a spot of sympathetic color among the crowd. One little fellow looked up as the party approached, and caught sight of Joujou in Mrs. Bowdoin's arms. "Oh, look, mother, look!" he cried; "that's the littlest dog I ever saw! Just see his tail!" The woman never raised her head. PICK!" she shouted in stern, stentorian tones from the depths of her sunbonnet to the small boy, who hung his head and obeyed the mandate. What were little dogs or their tails, when weighed in the balance with his stint of so many quarts an hour! Each picker is provided with a tin measure, into which he drops the berries as he pulls them from the vines. He is paid so much for each measure. These are poured into larger receptacles, and finally into bushel-baskets. Inspectors walk about, and take account of what each one does, and shout the tally across the fields to the head man, who marks it all down. The bushel-basketfuls are poured into sacks, which are piled upon barrows and carried off to fill the carts awaiting them by the roadside. Muriel saw one of these barrows being carried slowly along by two men, one at each end; they seemed to be singing as they walked, and their song came over the field in a sort of solemn chant.

"See!" said Muriel; "the funeral of the cranberry! Could anything be more picturesque?" "And they are as unconscious of making pictures," said Ralph, who stood by her side, any of Millet's French peasants."


Sea-Birds of Norway. From "Norway Nights and Russian Days." (Fords, H. & H.)

The sea-birds of Norway are so interesting that I would gladly speak of their character and habits at length, were it not that the monopolists in the "Diffusion of Useful Knowledge" have carried off the entire harvest in this field, without leaving a grain for the modest gleaner. But, even at the risk of telling an oft-told tale, I must repeat what I heard orally about the eider-ducks. These particularly pleasing birds are very numerous in certain localities, and swim fearlessly in the very track of the steamers, When a duck and her mate have flaunted about sufficiently in their honeymoon, and have decided to rear a family and have a "settled home," they waddle to the shore and choose with much fastidiousness, but little perspicuity, an eligible site-generally on the ground in a retreat far from the madding crowd, but occasionally in the cleft of a rock, and they have been known to take possession of a kitchen-oven. The nest is made of seamoss, profusely padded with tender gray down from the duck's breast. This accomplished and the eggs laid, the père de famille wanders back to his piscatorial and other amusements in very human style, while the poor mother finds her nest suddenly stripped of both eggs and down by the monster, man. She then makes her way through the waters to her lord, who has been considerate enough to leave his address, and they wade back to shore for a second experiment. But as the duck has already sacrificed her down, the drake now contributes his own, which, however, is white and less fine and valuable. The nests are despoiled a second time; but if the robbery is again repeated, the discouraged birds depart permanently from that part of the coast. Strangers are not allowed to visit the birdislands, and Norwegians are careful to give the third brood every chance to hatch; when the ducklings are large enough to make their first plunge into the sea, they are protected as far as possible from the falcons and other foes which hover above. The islands are sources of large profit, and become heirlooms in families, of sometimes one or two hundred years' descent.

The Little Shepherdess.

From Thoroddsen's "Sigrid." (Crowell.) After some further altercation between the two, the final upshot was that Orm should accompany his father out to the croft, where a couple of knolls would be assigned him to try his hand on ; and little Sigrid had for the first time to follow the herd through the narrow, winding sheeppaths, lunch-basket in hand, though with much reluctance. She was then scarcely nine years of age, and unusually small at that. Her mother whispered to her before she left home, "You shall be whipped, child, if you get home too soon at night, or lose any of the sheep."

Gudrun, the servant-girl, was despatched with her to point out where the herd should graze. "There is nothing to weep for, child," said Gudrun. "You need not be afraid of the elves in the valley; they will do you no harm." This consolation had no other effect upon Sigrid than to recall to her memory all the tales she had heard about the Elf-Hill and the Valley of Spirits. After a short time the flock reached its destination, and began at once to spread about over hill and dale, enjoying the vigorous grass.

"Now see here, Sigrid," said Gudrun; "here is where you, must keep the sheep. But be careful that they don't skip up into the mountains; alongside the slopes you may let them go without danger, but you must not keep them in a flock, for then they don't give so much milk. When the evening shades fall on the bottom of the valley, it is time to call them together, and then look out that none are left in the smaller vales. Take care of Bilda, for she is in the habit of stealing away to hide herself; she has done so twice with me, so I had to search for her far up in the mountain, the wretch! Don't be too ready to set Lubbe after them, for he sometimes snaps at them. So now good-by to you."

"Oh, please don't leave me yet, dear Gudrun!" cried the little one, with tears in her eyes; "I'll die of grief and weariness."

"Ain't you ashamed to whine in this manner?" said Gudrun, turning away, running as fast as her feet would carry her; and she was in a moment out of sight.

But little Sigrid's breast so heaved with grief that it seemed to her as if it must burst; the tears trickled down her cheeks; she turned giddy, and her limbs refused to support her; she sank down on the spot, buried her face in her hands, and wept aloud. At last she grew so tired of crying that she fell asleep, and dreamed that a man clad in white came to her, and passed his hand softly over her eyes, and said, "Jesus Christ will comfort all good children who weep." At this she awoke, and passing her hand over her cheeks found that they were not moist, but burned, and were a little sore; her bosom was easier, and her heart was not so full of grief; but still the tears glistened in her small blue eyes. The fear and dread that had come over her before she fell asleep were now nearly gone, and had no power to dishearten her, remembering what she had dreamt. She seated herself in the shelter of a declivity, and commenced to say her prayers, repeating one after the other; and this, Sudtoo, tended to appease her more and more. denly she fancied that she heard barking of dogs on the other side of the valley; she arose, went up on the hill, close by the declivity, and looked about. All was calm and tranquil beneath her ; the sun hung low, and the evening shades had commenced to advance down over the mountain slopes, nearly reaching the bottom of the valley, of which Gudrun had advised her. Sigrid then knew she must have been asleep a good while, and now she remembered the instruction Gudrun had given her to drive the sheep home when the shades reached the recess. At the same moment her eye fell upon a spot beyond the stream, which stretched itself towards where she stood; the centre was elevated, and a big stone rested upon it; and from this she fancied that she distinguished a boy dressed in black to come out, and who disappeared so quickly into the valley, that she could hardly follow his movements. Now Sigrid felt badly off indeed; her heart beat with terror, and she thought of nothing else than escaping as quickly as possible; but all at once she heard some one calling the sheep together at the other side of the valley, and this so loud, that it re-echoed throughout the mountain slopes on both sides. Sigrid's dog, Lubbe, had during the day remained about the foot or the slope, close up to Sigrid; but now, hearing the call reverberate from rock to rock, he sprang up, shook himself, pricked up his ears, and then suddenly ran off, and in less than a minute was out of

Sigrid's sight. The sheep leaped down from the grass-plots on the slopes, and gathered together in a flock. Sigrid hurried to count them and while thus occupied the shades had entered the valley; then she commenced driving the herd home, arriving at the farm just at milking-time; no sheep were missing, and they found little Sigrid's work to their satisfaction.

A Mean Man.

From Joseph Kirkland's “Zury." (Houghton, M. & Co.) The only individual of the four travellers who will journey on with us all through our story is Zury, the boy. His parents, by some means we wot not of, found for him the name "Usury," pronounced with the accent on the second syllable, which extraordinary prenomen, shortened to "Zury," has played a great part in Spring County life from that day to this, and will bear a proportionally important burden in these chron


Zury had come early-so early that he had forgotten it-to that most thrilling experience in every fine boy's life, the discovery that he, too, is valuable to the little world about him. He was a natural worker, a seeker after chances to be useful, his ambition always outrunning the demands made on him. When he could be lifted on a horse to go for the cows, of course he rebelled against "tending baby ;" and when he could plough, he despised milking and the other "chores," but he did them all the same, asking no rest save the rest of change of occupation. Achievement sprang from his mind and muscles like petroleum from a flowing well; the only thing needful was to provide channels for it.

Frontier life was what he needed to grow in. Openings for hard profitable work are there plenty, unmistakable, and tempting. One of the ways in which he showed his enjoyment of the consciousness of power was a natural impatience of control or interference, a brusque self-assertion, a rudeness which in a weaker being would have been intolerable. Some splendid horses will balk if you check or guide them, though at their own speed and in their own fashion they will cheerfully do more than anybody could ask or expect.

So sets out a traveller magnificently equipped with natural gifts. Let us see how circumstances favor, or dwarf, or distort their growth.

Up to this time he still retained a few boyish weaknesses-not love of play, exactly, except as all work was play to him, but a love for ingenious devices in the work he did, and a busy brain always occupied with thoughts of such devices and of other things. Of course he was an industrious and accomplished whittler; his jack-knife was always at hand and always sharp, and in the intervals of more important avocations always busy. His colts grew up "ready broke," or near it; they began to help him almost as soon as they were weaned. His horses were as tame as dogs, and (up to their limited intellects) as intelligent. As he would say, "Hoss-flesh is cheaper 'n man-flesh. Whenever ye can do back-work with hoss-paower, ye're a makin' money."

Another of his weaknesses was his love for his helpless sister. It was a yearning fondness in direct proportion to his strength and her weakness. If he had grown weaker or she stronger, his affection would have become less absorbing. Of course little whittled playthings were her constant companions on the bed-cover-the

earth-floor was too damp for her-and mixed with them were lots of vari-colored birds' eggs, exquisitely cleaned by a process devised by Zury. The first eggs he brought her were of a delicate pale green, and formed her dear delight for days. Her little hands, more delicate than the eggs themselves, fondled them with a tenderness that kept them safe from breaking, but unhappily nothing could save them from natural decay. "What's th' matter, Shoog? Don't 'ee cry." "Oh, my eggies got sp'ilt,"

"Nem' mind, Sweety; bub'll git ye s'more t'morry!"

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So the little sufferer went to sleep comforted. Zury took the eggs and tried to " blow" them |—making a hole in each end, and puffing the contents through with his breath. But they were too delicate, and either the shell broke in spite of all care or the holes were so big that the beauty was lost. He pondered over the problem long and hard, gazing at the egg he held, and trying to overcome the apparent physical impossibility. "Couldn't I poke in suthin'? Not hardly; th' ain't no room. Lessee naow. Ef I warn't so big, I'd jis' crawl inside 'n' scoop her aout good! Lessee-lessee-lessee. Thar! I've got it!"

He made a pin-hole in one end of each egg ; and with the first streak of dawn he was up and out hunting for an ant-hill he had before observed, where some almost infinitesimal marvels of industry in formic shape were always busy at their incomprehensible tasks. Here he deposited the eggs, and soon saw the little creatures doing his desired work in a manner delightful to behold.

"Where's my eggies?" asked a sweet little voice when he came in for his breakfast. "Brer Zury's a-fixin' on 'em. Wait till noonspell, then we'll see!" 'Sure enough?"

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'Jest's sure's shootin'."

Midsummer Words.

From Mrs. Whitney's “Daffodils." (Houghton, M. & Co.)
What can they want of a midsummer verse
In the flush of the midsummer splendor?
For the Empress of Ind shall I pull out my purse,
And offer a penny to lend her?

Who wants a song when the birds are a-wing,
Or a fancy of words when the least little thing
Hath message so wondrous and tender?

The trees are all plumed with their leafage superb,
And the rose and the lily are budding;
And wild, happy life, without hindrance or curb,
Through the woodland is creeping and scudding.
The clover is purple; the air is like mead,
With odor escaped from the opulent weed,
And over the pasture-sides flooding.

Every note is a tune, every breath is a boon;
'Tis poem enough to be living.
Why fumble for phrase while magnificent June
Her matchless recital is giving?
Why not to the music and picturing come,
And just with the manifest marvel sit dumb,
In silenced delight of receiving.

Ah, listen! Because the great Word of the Lord,
That was born in the world to begin it,
Makes answering word in ourselves to accord,
And was put there on purpose to win it.
And the fulness would smother us only for this-
We can cry to each other, "How lovely it is!
And how blessed it is to be in it!"

Any book or article mentioned in this paper supplied at the shortest notice. INDEX TO SUMMER BOOKS,

Mentioned or advertised elsewhere in this issue, with select lists of other suitable reading. The abbreviations of publishers' names will guide to the advertisements, frequently containing descriptive notes. For other books of a more general character, suitable for summer reading, see the publishers' ad



Adirondacks (The), 50 c.; pap., 25c... Stoddard.
Pocket Map, $t......Rand, McN. & Co.; Stoddard.
See also Headley; Murray: Northrup; Wallace.
American Seaside Resorts, ea. 25 C.....
Arizona. See Colorado; Hinton; Hodge.
Austin, Nantucket Scraps, $1.50..
Bacon, Dictionary of Boston, $2.


Ballou, Due North; Glimpses of Scandinavia and Russia. $1.50....


Houghton, M.


Houghton, M.

Barbour, Florida for Tourists, $1.50.. ..Appleton.
Barrows, Oregon, $1.25...

Bartholomew, Pocket Atlas of the World, $1; $1.50.

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Brassey, Lady Annie, Around the World in the Yacht
"Sunbeam," $2.-Sunshine and Storm, $3.50.-In the
Trades, Tropics, and Roaring Forties, $3.50.......Holt.
Buckley, The Midnight Sun, $3...


Burchard, Two Months in Europe, pap., 50 c. Bardeen.
California. See Hittell; Nordhoff.

Campbell, Lady, Book of the Running Brook, $1.25.

Camps and Tramps in Adirondacks, $1; pap., 50 c.

Canada. See Fleming; Tourist's Guide-Book.
from the Lakes to the Gulf, 50 c........N. Y. News Co.
Cape Cod, Thoreau, $1.50... Houghton, M. & Co.
Cassell's Complete Pocket-guide to Europe, $1.50.

Catskill Mountains. See Van Loan.
Champlin, Chronicle of the Coach, new cheap ed.,



City by the Sea (Newport), 30 c..
Collins' Standard Map of London, 50 c.. Scribner & W.
Colorado. See Hayes: Rideing.

New Mexico and Arizona, Guide to, 25 c... ....Rand.
Concord, Guide-Book. See Bartlett.

Conkling, Mexico, $1.50....

Taintor Bros.

Continental Railway Guides. See Dickens.
Cook, Brief Summer Rambles near Phila., $1.

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Hamerton, Paris, $3.

Griffing, Letters from Florida, pap., 25 c......Cupples.
Hallock, Our New Alaska, $1.50.
Forest and Stream Pub. Co.
Hardy, Lady Duffus, Through Cities and Prairie Lands,
Hare Walks in London, $3.50; Same in 2 v., $5.-Walks
in Rome, $3.50.-Days near Rome, $3 and $5.-Cities
of Northern and Central Italy, 3 v., $6.-Wanderings in
Spain, $3.-Cities of Southern Italy and Sicily, $2.50.-
Florence: Venice, ea. $1.
Harper's Handbook for Europe and the East, 3 v., ea.
Harrison, Mrs. Burton N., Bar Harbor Days.. Harper.
Hayes, New Colorado and Santa Fé Trail, $2.50. Harper.
Headley, Adirondacks, $2...

Henshall, Camping and Cruising in Florida, $1.50.

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Hubbard, Woods and Lakes of Maine, $3; $5.50; $8.
Hubbard's Guide to Moosehead Lake, $1.50.

Cupples & H.
Ingersoll, Knocking Round the Rockies, $2.. Harper.
Italy. See Hare: Jarves; Symonds.
Jackson, Glimpses of Three Coasts, $1.50... Roberts.
James, Little Tour in France.-Tales of Three Cities
(New York; London; Boston), ea. $1.50.. Ticknor.
James, Transatlantic Sketches, $2...
Jarves, Italian Rambles, pap., 50 c....
Jenness, The Isle of Shoals, $1.50...

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Knox, How to Travel, $1.

Pocket Guide to Europe, $1.

Lake Chautauqua Illustrated, 25 c..

· George and Saratoga, 50 c. and 25 c..
New Map, $1.

See also De Costa.

Harbor, $1;

.Peter Paul.


Lanier, Florida: Its Scenery, etc., $1.50....Lippincott.

Larcom, Hillside and Seaside, $1.....

Wild Roses of Cape Ann, $1.25..

Larned, Village Photographs, $1.75.

Leighton, Life at Puget Sound, $1.25.

Houghton, M.

Houghton, M.

London. See Collins'; Pascoe; Routledge's.

Guide, $1.50...

Dictionary of. See Dickens.

Round About, $r..

Walks in.

See Hare.

in 1885, 80 c...

. rope, $3.50..

.Holt. Lee & S.

Rand, McN.

Rand, Mc N.

Scribner & W’.


Loomis, Index Guide to Travel and Art Study in Eu

Summer Guide to Central Europe, $1...Am. News Co. Macquoid, Normandy and Brittany, 50 c......Putnam. Through Normandy, $2..


Same, $1.50: pap., $1.


Maine, Northern, Tourists' Map of, $1.

Estes & L.

See Hubbard.

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Florida. See Barbour; Griffing; Henshall; Lanier; Murray, Adirondack Adventures, $1.50. Lee & S. Munro.

Forbes, Rambles in Naples, $1.50..
Gleed, Overland Guide, 50 c....


Rand, McN.

Godfrey, The Island of Nantucket, $1........ Lee & S.

Murray's Guides in England, Ireland, Scotland, and
all the Countries in Europe..
..Scribner & W.
-Guides to Egypt, Turkey in Asia, Holy Land, and all
the Countries in Europe....
...Rand, McN.

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