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Ah, "she sighed, "so happy! Dear
Bill, I love him so, dear sweet boy.
But anyway I wish papa knew about
it. I think I'll write, and tell him
all. Guess I won't — yes, I will — he
can't kill me anyhow, and I will."
She pencilled a hasty note, and ad-
dressed it to her father. Still hold-
ing the pencil in her hand, she ab-
sently gazed out upon the quickly
tpassing scenery and thought.

" He has always been so good and
kind to me," she mused half aloud.
" Dorothy Thornburgh — Dorothy

Beres " she stopped to giggle —

"Well, Dorothy Bereston, you're a
wretch — but it was a good idea to
write, for he will sort of make up his
mind to it by the time we return.
I know he will."

Judge Thornburgh recognized Dor-
othy's handwriting at once.

" What a dear girl she is after all !"
he said tearing open the note, and
placing his glasses upon his nose be-
gan to read. "What's this!" he
fairly screamed, "what's this!" and
reading the startling news to bewil-
dered Aunt Sara, crumbled the note
in his hand, and threw it with a
mighty will upon the floor. " That's
news for you."

"Well, well, who would have
thought such a thing of our sweet
Dorothy?" meekly exclaimed Aunt

"Our sweet Dorothy indeed!" with
accents and look expressing more
than words.

"Oh, well, Robert, there's no use.
She's married, and it can't be un-

done. You know she has always been
a self-willed girl, and it was very
wrong of you to act so the other day."

" I do and speak as I wish in my
own house, and as I have a right.
That scoundrel ! and as for Dorothy,"
his fist came down upon the table
with a tremendous bang, " I have
done with her. She is an ungrate-
ful, selfish girl. I have done with
her, done with her forever! She
never need look on me and say
'father,' never again."

" Robert, what are you saying?"
. "And if that Englishman thinks
he can walk into this house and make
it his home, he is mistaken. Or if
Dorothy supposes that in time I will
be fool enough to forgive and sup-
port them, I'll show her I will not;
even if she is in want, I will not —
never — never!"

Dorothy became indignant that
she did not receive a response from
her father, and that he would not
bend to her will. She was married ;
what was to be done but grin and
forgive? She was finding her dear
husband's will and temper much like
her own, and, sadder still, she already
realized, as her father said of him,
that he was a penniless masker.
How convenient if papa would only
forgive ; but his heart was stone. The
Englishman found in the stony heart
of papa his fondest hopes blasted.
They were now married three months
and, owing to two separate wills and
the taste of vinegared regret, had
often quarrelled desperately. It was
getting awful. Even Dorothy's own
bank account was giving out, and
over it she spent lonely and tearful
days, her husband coming and going
when he pleased. Bereston would
be away from Dorothy days at a
time with no explanation. So he
went one day, and has never been
seen since, leaving Dorothy pen-
niless, penitent, and overcome with
grief, Aunt Sara and Tessa alone to
help and console her. She begged
of her father forgiveness, but he
would not even heed her or the ter-



rible wrong dealt her, so great was
his anger toward his daughter. It
was now over two months since
Bereston had deserted her. Rosy-
cheeked Dorothy had grown pale and
thin, and upon a couch in a darkened
room she spent her hastily wedded
life, refusing even to speak.

" Robert," sorrowfully spoke Aunt
Sara, " I must intercede again for

" I wish to hear nothing from her."

M Shame come to you ! your child is
very ill — how can you be so heart-

" Here is money, take it and use it
for her comfort, but not in my house. "

" How can you forbid her her own

" Her home? No — she forsook her
home, kindness, and every comfort
for a wandering beggar. It was her

44 No matter, she is still your child,
and it is still her home. She has a
right to it, and in mercy's name I
will bring her home. It's a shame
— a shame!" she cried, hastily leav-
ing the room with tears rolling down
her cheeks. Robert Thornburgh
only lightly treated Aunt Sara's grief.
He knew through experience what
an excellent actor Dorothy could be
for sympathy.

Again Aunt Sara stood at the bed-
side of Dorothy, but her heart failed
her; she was unable to speak as she
looked at the wasted form of that
once beautiful Dorothy. She left the
room and burst into tears, at the
thought of so brilliant a life perhaps
ended because of a wilful child
being tempted by a villain. She
jerked her handkerchief over each
eye and spoke to herself aloud:
" That's what it is in allowing foreign
and mutilated coin to enter into our
household. Oh! if I had only known
of this in time."

Three weeks after Aunt Sara had
spoken to her father, she softly led
him into the sick-room.

" Be soft, Robert, she is asleep now,
and I would not for the world disturb

her. The more sleep the little dear
has the better, but come, you can look
at her — see how thin and pale
Tender-hearted little Aunt Sara had
to turn away.

Robert Thornburgh stepped up to
the bedside, leaned low, and looked
into the face of his child — he started
and visibly trembling, looked closer.
He hid his face in his hands, and
wept like a child.

44 O Robert, Robert!" cried Aunt
Sara, rushing to his side,
away, do not awaken her. It would
be her death to awaken suddenly and
see you standing there."

Deaf to her entreaties, he leaned
over and again looked long into
Dorothy's face; bent down and gently
kissed her upon her brow, and quietly
stepped from the room. He seemed
but the withered form of that hand-
some and strong-charactered man, so
suddenly had grief and repentance
clutched him.

Dorothy was to be brought home
that Sunday, and every comfort and
good cheer was to be for her. Noth-
ing should be denied, that she mi^ht
again be the Dorothy that was.

Some time after Robert Thorn-
burgh had gone, Aunt Sara returned
to the sick-room with a cup of broth,
Dorothy's only nourishment, and that
had to be forced upon her. She would
weakly resist until her now feeble
body would fall back completely ex-

44 Dorothy, Dorothy dearie," Aunt
Sara called to the still form, and put-
ting her hand on Dorothy's brow, a
cold shudder darted through her body.
She hastily put down the cup of broth
and pulled back the curtains.

A terrible prolonged scream and
a dull thud on the floor brought
frightened Tessa rushing into the
room to meet a horrible sight.

Dorothy's head had sunk back
heavily among the pillows, and her
beautiful features were set in death's
calm slumber. Her young life had
quietly, peacefully ebbed away, quite
an hour since.


ANY inquiry concerning the currency
must be historical, but we promise
that our incursion into history shall be short,
sharp, and to the point.

From 1066 to the eighteenth year of Ed-
ward III., 1345, England's coinage was
solely silver. From 1345 to 171 7 she had a
bi-metallic system. From 171 7 she became
a gold-standard country. Gold is worth
more in England than elsewhere, because
England, not being a producer of gold, must
get it in the way of trade from other coun-
tries. In order to draw gold in preference
to silver the Bank of England in the seven-
teenth century, under the advice of no less
a person than Sir Isaac Newton, who was
Master of the Mint, increased the ratio of
the value of gold over silver, so that gold
was given a greater proportional paying
power, thereby encouraging payments in
gold. This movement forced a subsequent
discountenancing of silver in all other com-
mercial countries, and has resulted in a gen-
eral demonetization of the white metal.

The Bank of England, by an act of Par-
liament, is authorized to pay for pure gold
£3 17s. gd. per ounce. An act of the United
States Congress fixes the value in America
of the British pound sterling at $4.86.95 ; at
this rate the Bank of England pays for fine
gold $18.90 per ounce, or 30 cents more than
is paid by our Government.

On June 26th of the current year the In-
dian Government closed the mints of India
to the free coinage of silver. The money
of account of India is the silver "rupee."
India being a British dependency, the par
of exchange between London and Calcutta

is based on the London "mint par," or gold
valuation. This " mint par" is an arbitrary
constant which is not affected by market
fluctuations, and this constant furnishes a
fixed point or gold standard level from
which to measure the value of Indian cur-
rency in absolute terms. It is not necessary
to enter into the question as to how the
" mint par" of the gold valuation is obtained,
but to state that it is 23.3623d. per rupee ;
the conventional par of 2s. , or 48c. per ru-
pee, however, is not far from this par, and
is used in the government accounts of Eng-
land and India.

Since 1870 silver has been depreciating in
India. The Indian government, having
about ^16,000,000 per annum to pay in
England, found the loss by exchange be-
coming more burdensome with every fresh
fall in exchange, the effects on Indian
finance being deplorable. In fact the lower
the rate of exchange fell, the nearer the In-
dian government became to bankruptcy.
The key-note of the present action, there-
fore, is rather to prevent a farther fall in
exchange than to raise the value of the ru-
pee, and is, doubtless, the preliminary step
to introducing a gold standard into the
country. The provisional ratio of value of
the rupee is now is. 4d. , or 32c, or 33.33
depreciation from par of 2s. per rupee.
This rate of exchange is, presumably, the
point of stability of the Indian government ;
at any rate it has been fixed high enough to
relieve the government of its pressing ne-
cessities, while it is well within the limits
of recent fluctuations, the rupee having at
one time reached 8d., or 16c, or 66.67 P er
cent depreciation from par of 2s. per rupee.

The United States, being a silver as well




as a gold producing country, is necessarily
affected by this action of the Indian gov-
ernment, as the recent slump in silver and
the closing of a greater number of the west-
ern silver mines conclusively prove ; and it
now remains to be seen what move she will
make on the financial chess-board. The
exponent in India of government policy,
Sir David Barbour, favors international bi-
metallism, and in the extreme case of silver
being abandoned by this country, then he
favors a gold standard. The United States
Treasury now holds in its vaults, uncoined,
124,292,532 fine ounces of silver bullion, for
which it paid $114,219,920, and is worth to-
day, at the market price of silver, $103,411-
386, thus showing a loss of $10,888,530. It
is very evident that with every mint in the
world, excepting that in Mexico, closed to
silver, the United States, in a single-handed
struggle, will not be able to maintain the
value of silver.

It can thus be seen that any attempts to
give money commodities — say rather circu-
lating mediums — a fictitious value can only

prove of temporary relief. Without doubt
the policy of safety and advancement for
ourselves is the policy which obtained from
1 81 2 to 1 860. No paper money ever issued
by the Government of the United States, or
by the government of Great Britain, when
receivable in the revenues of the issuing
government, and made legal tender in the
payment of debts, has ever gone below coin
in par value. England's latest attempt to
bull the gold market of the world ought to
be met by us with firm resistance, for in
the words of Thomas Jefferson, before our
financial policy became vaccinated with the
virus of Wall Street, M Bank [national] cur-
rency must be suppressed and the circula-
tion restored to the nation where it be-
longs. ■

It is of interest to recall at this time a
pregnant sentence uttered by the great Eng-
lish statesman, Lord Chatham, the best
friend American liberty ever had on the
other side of the water : " If the Americans
adopt our banking and funding system their
liberties are gone." E. R.



LOVERS of an entertaining, yet equally
healthy fiction have no reason to com-
plain of the quantity or quality issued dur-
ing the past few months. In fact it would
be difficult, if possible at all, to recall a time
within the past quarter of a century when
the domain of fiction was enriched by the
production of so many exceptionally good
novels, especially in the same space of
time. The quality of recent fiction has been
of the very first order. This is a good sign :
for, after all, what is it that can charm us
more, that can so entertainingly instruct us,
that can fill us with such lofty ideas as a
good novel — one with a purpose, an aim ; one
to amuse as well as to instruct ? During the
past few months we have had, among many
others, Howells' delightfully written "World
of Chance ;" x a credit to its author's genius,
a brilliant piece of fiction, an excellent
specimen of ideal realism. We read with
much pleasure and profit Clara Louise
Burnham's " Doctor Latimer," 2 one of those
choice bits of character painting only found
in the neighborhood of Casco Bay. The
author of "Next Door" displays the same
ability in the writing of "Doctor Latimer"
tnat she di'l in her former pleasant stories.
Bret Harte gave us, and we cordially
welcomed it, "Sally Dows," 3 and three
other equally fascinating stories, written
with the same charm, the same captivating
pen that has given us so many, not too
many, pleasant stories.

i " The World of Chance
New York: Harper & Bros

By W. D. Howells.

"Doctor Latimer." By Clara Louise Burnham.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

3 " Sally Dows, and other Stories." By Bret
Harte. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

Margaret Deland, whose "John Ward,
Preacher, " was one of the best books of its
kind ever written, gave us in "Mr. Tommy
Dove " J and the four other companion sto-
ries a most clever and delightful exhibition
of her portrait painting of the New England
type of character : a character we regret to
notice is too rapidly passing away, one that
one never tires of meeting with.

Then again we were glad to receive from
the author of that perfect little gem, "The
Birds' Christmas Carol," a new volume of
sketches. If that exquisite piece of fiction,
"A Cathedral Courtship," 2 and the associ-
ate sketches which go to make up the vol-
ume is any criterion of what one may ex-
pect from Kate Douglas Wiggin, then she
will be hailed in the literary world as an
author of such rare ability as will give her
a name and a lasting fame.

Then again that veteran of many tri-
umphs in the field of literature, George
MacDonald, carried us in his " Heather and
Snow" 8 into that pleasant, poetic, and
dreamy land of Scotland, and introduced
us to a very poetic girl, who wields an in-
fluence for good over men and women. In
this book we meet with the author's com-
mon-sense view of the influence of relig-
ion over humanity. The scene is trans-
ferred from Scotland to India at the time of
the mutiny, and we find no dull line in the
description of that interesting country dur-
ing one of its most exciting periods.

When we read some few years ago "The
Silence of Dean Maitland" and "In the
Heart of the Storm," we laid them aside
with much satisfaction, and awaited a new
novel from the pen of Maxwell Gray ; and
so, when some days ago we received, and
read with interest, "The Last Sentence," 4
we confess that we were not disappointed.
In fact, we think it the best novel of the

i "Mr. Tommy Dove, and other Stories." By
Margaret Deland. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin &

s "A Cathedral Courtship." By Kate Douglas
Wiggin. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

8 " Heather and Snow." By George MacDonald.
New York: Harper & Bros.

♦"The Last Sentence." By Maxwell Gray.
New York: Tait, Sons & Co.




last decade; we mean, of course, of that
class of novels of which George Eliot was
the chief among the many. There is a
power about the book which seems to capti-
vate us, in spite of what may seem to be too
much of the atmosphere of sadness. If there
is one fault with the book it is that there is
too much of sorrow in its pages. Yet there
are very many clever epigrams in the book ;
considerable of dramatic power, especially
in the scene where final sentence is passed
by Judge Marlowe. The book is the equal
of " Adam Bede, " and the cultivated readers
of English fiction will welcome the book
because it is indeed the work of a well-
trained genius. Maxwell Gray is indeed
a novelist worthy of much praise — worthy
of being widely read.

Our enjoyment of " Sherlock Holmes" was
of such a character as to make us yearn for
anything which Conan Doyle would give
us. And so, when we read "The Great
Shadow," 1 we could say but one thing:
Clever, clever, very clever !

Conan Doyle has every indication of tak-
ing a very high place in the world's litera-
ture as a writer of originality and brilliant

If Rudyard Kipling was at any time a fad
he has ceased to be one, and his last volume,
"Many Inventions," ' sustains in every re-
spect the author's reputation for originality
of creation, for a descriptive power unap-
proached by any living author, a delicious
humor, which is never coarse but always
pleasantly free and easy, and for a wonder-
ful insight into human nature.

Kipling stands to-day as the best charac-
ter painter of his time, and in his new
volume, especially in the story of "My Lord
the Elephant," displays a skill unequalled
in the art of delineating character. Kipling
is indeed a realist of the first order. The
study of Indian life shows a painstaking
labor in the very heart of the cities of the
Indian Empire. Kipling in this volume
shows himself a master in the art of making
every detail intensely interesting. The vol-
ume of stories varies so much that we seem
to leave one story to read a better and a
different one. We wonder if this genius
will not soon claim, and a just claim at that,
enough attention from the literary world to
deserve the name of the Anglo-Indian Dick-
ens. No writer of our time possesses the
storehouse of excellent materials, no author
the genius for utilizing the same.

Then again, we welcomed Marion Craw-
ford's "Pietro Ghislero," 3 which, by the
way, should have been named Laura, and
we found the same fascinating story-teller.
We were glad to breathe in the delightful

By Conan Doyle. New

1 " The Great Shadow.
York. Harper & Bros.

2 " Many Inventions.' 1
New York: D. Appleton & _

3U Pietro Ghislero." By Marion Crawford. New
York: MacMillan & Co.

By Rudyard Kipling.

atmosphere of modern Rome, and meet the
society which Crawford alone could make
so pleasant to meet. The author of
Isaacs," "A Roman Singer, , al-

ways writes an excellent book, and each
seems better than the Other.

But enough. W« have had other good
works of fiction. Suffice it to sav, how .
that the fiction of the past few months has
been of an unusually high order, the autl
of which should receive the thanks of a
thoroughly appreciative reading pnl

In the above brief r/sw
it will be observed that five- of the boot
f erred to are volumes of short
of them were written bv American and
by English authors.

In this connection the thought suggests
itself as to the coming American novel. As
a nation we have had no really nut.
novel. Our great American novels have
had only a local coloring. They have been
sectional. For instance, Hawthorne gave us
the New England type of charm I
Harte the Western; Charles E Crad
that of the type living in the Tennessee
mountains ; Page and Cable Southern types
of life and character; Richard Harding
Davis, as in his clever "Gallagher," that
character alone found in the American
and so we could enumerate. Now, with
these different types of character being rap-
idly eliminated from our life, and the stead-
ily increasing cosmopolitan character, is the
time not nearly at hand when we can greet
the first American novel ?

Surely, we have the authors ! We have
to-day more writers of promise than we
have ever had before — writers whose pres-
ent work should be an omen of a grand final
success in the future.

* * # # •

"Americans in Europe " ' is the striking
title of a book whose first edition wa
hausted on the day of its publication. S
a prominent title deserved the name of its
author, but when we looked at the title-pag©
we found that it was "by one of th<
when we finished it we knew that he was an
unusually aggresstvt one! and yet j>cr-
fectly honest and thoroughly D his

denunciation of the prat i !«c of our

American friends when they cross th-
lantic. The author points out in a
skilful manner the temptations to which
our young men and women are exp<
especially in Paris, where they go to study
art and music. The book is a brilliant yet
caustic review of some of our representa-
tives abroad, who instead of beii..
can became un-American— Americans who
misrepresented their own country by trying
to be something else besides American.

1 " Americans in Eurooe." By One of Them
New York: Tait, Sons & Co.



This book should be in the hands of every
young man and woman who contemplates
going abroad. One will be a better Amer-
ican after its perusal.

* * * * *

Unquestionably the literary event of the
year is the publication of Gen. Lew Wal-
lace's new novel, "The Prince of India, or
How Constantinople Fell. " 1 The author
has been at work for many years gathering
materials for the work, and now that the
work is completed there is every reason to
believe that it will meet with a most cordial
reception. As we have received the book
on the eve of going to press, we will reserve
our review of it until some future issue.

* # * # *

One of the most charming little volumes
which has come to our notice is the vol-
ume, " Other Essays from the Easy Chair," 2
by that prince of men, that most delightful
of writers, George William Curtis. There is
a charm about the book that does not per-
mit us to think that they were written years
ago, but they seem as fresh as if the hand
that penned them had just given them to us.
Curtis is no more, but it will be many
years before he and his "Easy Chair" are



The author of "The Leavenworth Case,"
the best detective story written in America,
has written a book which adds to her repu-
tation as a brilliant writer of detective sto-
ries. "Marked Personal" 8 is intensely in-
teresting ; from cover to cover one never
loses a line, but follows on and on until
the end is reached. Through intrigue and
entangling alliances one is brought to the
end of the volume, and leaves it with the
satisfaction of having read a most interest-
ing book.


Visitors to that nineteenth century won-
, der, the World's Fair, will be greatly aided
in seeing and appreciating the sights of that
remarkable institution by taking with them
" A Week at the Fair, " * a profusely illus-

i " The Prince of India." By Lew Wallace.
New York: Harper & Bros.

a " Other Essays from the Easy Chair." By Geo.
Wm. Curtis. New York: Harper & Bros.

a " Marked Personal." By Anna K. Green. New
York: Putnam's Sons.

* "A Week at the Fair." Chicago: Rand, Mc-
Nally & Co.

trated volume concerning important mat-
ters connected with the exposition. The
articles in the volume were especially pre-
pared for it, and give it a special value.

" How to Know the Wild Flowers" 1 is
something which all lovers of nature and its
beauties should know. It has always been
a surprise to us that never before had there
been issued a practical guide to the study of
our common flowers, and yet thousands each
year have gone into the field to admire, if
not to pluck, our beautiful flowers, knowing
not their name nor anything about them.
This volume by Mrs. Dana supplies a long-
felt want, for it gives the names, habits,
and haunts of our common flowers. The
volume is fully illustrated and well written.

Some days ago the writer, in going into
one of New York's largest dry-goods stores,
noticed at the book-counter a large pile of
very neatly bound books with this sign at-

Online LibraryCharles Frederick HolderThe Californian (Volume 4) → online text (page 96 of 120)