NEW FICTION THE CONSPIRATORS By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS Author of "The King in Yellow," "Lorraine," Etc. A rattling good love story of to-day. Full of life, action and adventure. Though published only a short time ago three editions have already been exhausted. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth Ornamental, $1.50. A MAN OF HIS ACE By HAMILTON DRUMMOND Mr. Drummond is a new writer of fiction of the Stanley Weyman type. He has already made his mark in England and is, without doubt, one of the most promising of the younger romantic writers. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth Ornamental, $1.25. THE PRINCESS SOPHIA By E. F. BENSON Author of "Mammon & Co." and 66 Dodo" A fantastic tale of a principality reduced to the verge of Bankruptcy by the gambling of its citizens and rulers. It is both amusing and dramatic. Post 8vo, Cloth Ornamental, $1.25. THE REBEL By H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON Author of "Galloping Dick" and "The Princess Xenia" In " The Rebel" Mr. Watson gives us the best work which he has done since "Galloping Dick." It is a story of the days of Charles II. with a strong love interest and plenty of action. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.50. THE ACTION AND THE WORD By BRANDER MATTHEWS Author of "His Father's Son," Vignettes of Manhattan," Etc. Mr. Matthews has taken as the subject for his latest story the infatuation of a young society woman for the stage. It is an excellent picture of New York Life. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1.50. HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK Recent Books Relating to Paris and the Paris Exposition. PARIS the beautiful, where, some one has said, "all good Americans go when they die," has had its numerous attractions largely added to this year with its Exposition of the arts and industries of all nations. "Good Americans," however, are not waiting just now for the doubtful chance of viewing in the spirit "the only city in the world worth seeing," but are already emigrating in numbers, sadly depleting to our Summer population. This vast army of travellers needs guide books and the latest information about Paris, and some good light reading in the way of novels to pack in the hand bag. Nearly every publisher has a good guide book to Paris and the Exposition or to London or European cities, that may be made part of the itinerary. All the well known ones have been brought up to date with special chapters on the Paris Exposition, while many new ones on fresh lines have been written, which are good reading for those who may not have the pleasure of making the ocean voyage, but may only dream about the wonders of the French capital in the quiet of home. The magazines and other periodicals have so thoroughly covered the many interesting features of the Exposition, through photographs and graphic descriptive text, that one may be recommended to recent issues of any well known monthly for details of the Exposition itself. The many charming volumes on Paris from English and American authors all betray a sense of the fascination of living in this old and famous city with a deep appreciation of its historical and artistic treasures. The art of medieval and of renaissance Paris are made the subject of Grant Allen's "Paris," one in a new series of historical guide books to the principal cities of Europe. The work is made on a plan which does not compete or clash with existing works, but rather supplements the trusty Baedeker or Murray. The information Mr. Allen has gathered and so enticingly set forth is mostly historical or antiquarian, relating to the architecture, sculpture, painting, and minor arts as displayed in the churches, religious houses and public monuments of Paris. This should form part of the travelling library of every tourist who looks upon travel as a means of culture. "Paris As It Is " is an intimate account of its people, its home life and its places of interest, by a self-expatriated American and favorably known newspaper correspondent-Miss Katharine De Forest. This book," she says herself, "is perhaps less a guide book than a dream book. Certainly it was written, not so much to give information as to interprete the genius of Paris." This she does through a vivid rose-colored medium and with no uncertain pen. That she loves the Paris she has lived in so long and so recently, and that she writes from her own observation and experi ence, is evident in every page. She tells of the theatres, the restaurants, and the great shops; of the French home and the French men of letters; of the Chamber of Deputies, the museums, the studios and much else worth knowing in a charmingly attractive style. One of the most successful books of the past publishing season relates to "Bohemian Paris of To-Day." The author, W. C. Morrow, offers an authentic and picturesque study of that unconventional student life of the Latin Quarter, with its tragedies and comedies and immoralities made familiar to us through a long line of French novelists. A wealth of historic and literary reminiscences connected with the streets and buildings of Paris may be found in "The Stones of Paris," by Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Ellis Martin, two volumes finely illustrated from photographs of the homes and haunts of Molière, La Fontaine, Corneille, Racine, Balzac, and Victor Hugo, names representing the best in French literature. Tighe Hopkins's "An Idler in Old France" includes a new picture of old Paris with its many salient features. His "Dungeons of Old Paris" has a thrilling if somewhat gruesome interest. Richard Harding Davis wrote About Paris," in a book with that name, for which Charles Dana Gibson made characteristic illustrations. Mr. Davis gives his impressions of the streets of Paris and its show places, the grand prir and other characteristic scenes in his usual breezy style. The last days of the Empire, Mr. Worth and the Commune are the dominant topics of "Some Memoirs of Paris," by T. Adolphus, while to a far more distant past we are carried by Lady Jackson's "Old Paris," of which a new edition has been issued. Lady Jackson's work has maintained its popularity through many years and against many rivals. The romantic interest with which she invests her subject and her warmth of style and enthusiasm give her book a perennial charm. Philip Gilbert Hamerton's "Paris in Old and Present Times," also shown in a new edition, is another of the works of so fine a literary quality that the demand for it never ceases. It describes many fine old buildings of Paris that were sacrificed to the improvements of the Second Empire. Stuart Henry's "Paris Days and Evenings," a succession of pen pictures of Parisian out-door life of the streets, and Lonergan's "Historic Churches of Paris" are rich in special information. The latter gives complete descriptions of the churches of Notre-Dame, the Sainte Chapelle and the St. Denis. Leaning strongly toward the useful and practical is "A Woman's Paris," written by an American woman for other American women, who wish while there to do the agreeable things that are to do and to avoid the disagreeable things that are not to do." Thackeray's "Paris Sketch Book" would be an amusing and suggestive companion while a perfect gold mine relative to the Paris of the early years of the century remains to be quarried in the works of Honoré de Balzac. Names and streets still stand that he has used in his novels, and that one can easily people again with his characters. Daudet and Zola offer equally profitable reading to one in search of realistic pictures of the gay capital. 66 step to heaven, sir, or to the other place as well," said the Irishman, smiling, as he stepped on the rail. "I pray you to tell your men to start me on my way with a quick pull and a swift run." Pascoe nodded in comprehension. This would be a case in which speed would be merciful. A boatswain's mate now stepped up beside the prisoner, and bound his feet and hands with a lashing. A hangman's knot had been made by expert fingers in the rope leading from the yard-arm, and the running noose was quickly cast about O'Neill's neck. "The collar of an ancient order, this," observed O'Neil, still smiling. "And now one last request, sir," he added, turning to the lieu tenant. the sailor, who, to avoid him, stepped back and stood on the rail by the fore shrouds. The officer hesitated a moment, and then threw the cap into the water. "I thank you," said O'Neill huskily. "How much time is there?" "About two minutes, I think," said the lieutenant, nervously. "You will run away with the fall at the first or last stroke of the bell ?" "The last, sir." "No more," said O'Neill to Coventry, turning his face in the direction of the shore. The deep voice of the white-robed priest alone broke the silence, "Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not Thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God Out on the water a white-sailed little boat was speeding swiftly towards them. There was a woman in it. The eyes of love, even in the presence of death, are keen, perhaps even keener then than ever. It was Elizabeth Howard. O'Neill recognized her at once. Good Heavens! Why had she come here? She would arrive in time to see him swinging lifeless from the yard-arm-a hideous sight for any woman. He could not take his eyes from her. "See" he whisperd to Coventry, "that boat yonder; she is there." "My God!" said the officer, "What shall we do?" "Nothing; it is too late." She has something in her hand," cried Coventry. "What can it be? Forward, there!" cried the captain, watch in hand. Strike the bell five !" The mellow tones of the first couplet of the ship's bell rang out in obedience to the command. The hour has come! It was his death signal, but O'Neill never turned his head from the approaching boat. 66 Stand by!" shouted the lieutenant, in a voice he strove in vain to make firm. Make a quick jerk and a lively run, lads, for God's sake!" The men grasped the rope more firmly, sprang into position for the jump. The next couplet was struck on the bell. The boat was nearer now. Coventry saw that the woman waved something that looked like a paper in her hand. The last stroke of the bell rang out on the breathless, silent ship. 'Set taut!" cried the lieutenant, hoarsely. "The men leaped forward instantly to the shrill piping of the boatswain and his mate. Sway away!" he cried. The tightened rope caught the Irishman by the throat. A lightning flash seemed to cleave the skies; he saw, as in a vision, a great hall hung with arras, a picture-frame, a woman radiant, beautiful, her eyes shining, an upraised hand; like silver bells a voice murmured, "T love him." She moved-ah, a gigantic hand caught him by the throat; he strove to cry out; it clutched him tighter and tighter ; blackness like a pall fell before him, shutting out the smiling face-death-agony-he saw no more he swung into the air and was nothing. The quick eye of Major Coventry had detected, at last, what the girl was waving. "That paper," he cried frantically, as the last bell struck. It must be a reprieve; the admiral has relented. Was it too late? Quick as thought he snatched the sheath-knife from the belt of the sailor near him. It was too late to stop the men on the rope, even had he possessed the power; but as O'Neill rose in the air, he caught him around the waist, and with one rapid blow severed the straining rope above his head. Assisted at once by the sailor alongside of him, they lowered the bound, unconscious man upon the deck beneath them. It was all done in the twinkling of an eye. The men on the ship broke out in ringing cheers." [No. 1478] May 26, 1900 The Cycle Poster Artist. WHEN one comes to think of it, few bicythat I can recollect have I seen the rider repcles do realize the poster. On only one poster resented as doing any work. But then, this man was being pursued by a bull. In ordinary cases the object of the artist is to conof bicycling consists in sitting on a luxurious vince the hesitating neophyte that the sport saddle and being moved rapidly in the direction you wish to go by unseen Heavenly powers. Generally speaking, the rider is a lady, and then one feels that for perfect bodily rest combined with entire freedom from mental anxiety, slumber upon a water-bed cannot compare with bicycling upon a hilly road. No fairy travelling on a summer cloud could girl, according to the poster. Her costume take things more easily than does the bicycle for cycling in hot weather is ideal. might desire to secure her and wrap her in a fashioned landladies might refuse her lunch, Oldit is true; and a narrow-minded police force through traffic that might tax the ingenuity of rug preliminary to summonsing her. But such she heeds not. Uphill and downhill, a cat, over road surfaces calculated to break the average steam-roller she passes, a vision of idle loveliness; her fair hair streaming to lightly upon the lamp. Sometimes she conthe wind, her sylph-like form poised airily, one foot upon the saddle, the other resting descends to sit down on the saddle; then she puts her feet upon the rests, lights a cigarette, and waves above her head a Chinese lantern. Sit Less often, it is a mere male thing that rides cyclists: and then one grasps the fact how And the sun is always shining, and the roads |