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THE FAMILY NAME;
OR,

A SLIP "TWIXT CUP AND LIP.

BY MAJOR A. F. GRANT.

ARRY? Are you in earnest, Titus?" "Never more so in all my life." "Then that for matrimony so far as I am concerned," and the speaker snapped his fingers.

"Oh! 'tis well enough to dissimulate when it is currently reported up town that a certain belle whose indulgent papa is a millionaire, has stolen your heart."

Wilde Clyde laughed.

True, but, sir moralizer, I cannot listen longer. If you really have been captivated by the vivacious Miss Dot, permit me to congratulate you. She is a golden prize. Some call her a coquette, because she has been the beautiful companion of Catherine King. Win and wear this rich jewel if you can, Wilde; but do not forget that there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip.""

"I wish I could appreciate your congratulation," Wilde Clyde answered. "Indeed, I have not been playing Romeo to this up-town Juliet. Why, I scarcely know her."

Titus Schuyler laughed, provokingly, and bade his companion good-evening.

"He's a singular fellow," Clyde murmured, looking after his friend. "He used to be a ladies' "My heart?" he cried, glancing at his compan- man up town; but his father's reverses hurled him ion whose flushed face told that the laugh had net- from that society. He acted manly then, gave up tled him. "Why, I think it still beats in my his carriage, his horses, and sacrificed his income bosom." to the old gentleman's creditors. No German for "But nevertheless, they declare that Dot Whyrl him now. He sits at a desk all day, knowing that has stolen it." his name is never mentioned where once it was on every lip. They used to say that he once looked upon Dot Whyrl with loving eyes, but she never thinks of him now. Poor Titus! His roses have faded; the bush bears nothing but thorns."

"Dot Whyrl, eh? ha! ha! Why, my dear Schuyler, I have not encountered this up-town belle since Mrs. Damond's reception. They say a great deal, you must recollect. They' is a slanderer, a liar, and the instigator of disturbances that have ruined the peace of families."

·

Wilde Clyde was about to turn into the great hotel upon whose steps he had parted with young

Schuyler, when a well-dressed lad of twelve handed him a note sealed with crimson wax.

"I wonder what Titus would say if he saw this?" Clyde murmured with a curious smile as he handled the delicate billet.

Then he looked down on the boy.
"Are you to wait for a reply ?"
"Yes, sir."

Then he broke the seal and read:

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WILDE:-I write to inform you

that I am going to leave the city for a few days. I am not golag far-just to the seashore from whence you wil hear from me. Papa says he would be pleased to Jave you call to-night at eight. I suspect it is about those bonds again. Will you come?

Dot." Wilde Clyde walked into the hotel and answered the note by saying that he would call at the uptown mansion precisely at eight.

"Going to leave the city, eh? going to the seahore for a few days. This information is unexpected, as she told me last week that she thought she would remain at home this season. Perhaps pater familias is at the bottom of this jaunt; he nay want me to go along to take care of his priceless jewel."

The speaker was about to leave the room when a middle-aged man who had watched him closely, tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, it is you?" Wilde Clyde said, turning slightly pale. "I thought you had left the city." "Not yet," was the reply. "I cannot go without money. If you will redeem your promise tonight, I will sail to-morrow."

"You will, eh? How much do you want?" One thousand dollars!"

"Why don't you ask for a million ?"

"I wouldn't be bothered with so much money." "Oh!" sneered Wilde Clyde, "I have not got any money."

tor while the middle-aged man sauntered idly from the hotel.

The young gentleman ascended to his room and made his toilette for an evening call.

"I wish that Emil Girard was dead or at the antipodes," he said, quite angrily. "I will not have any peace until he is out of my sight forever."

While he prepared for the call, he did not dream of the little drama being enacted within the stately mansion whose threshold he was soon to cross.

Dot Whyrl's home was one of the richest that graced the beautiful "up town" portion of the metropolis. Her wit and beauty made it the favorite resort of the fashionables of that fashionable quarter, and she was its reigning belle. Tall and stately, she reigned like a queen, petted, praised, and loved by all who knew her a little self-willed, and possessed of a mind of her own.

Whilst Wilde Clyde busied himself in his room at the hotel, Dot entered the luxurious parlor of her home and encountered her father.

He looked up half angrily and startled Dot with the first words that dropped from his lips. "So you still think of that Titus Schuyler?" he said.

Dot's face grew pale, and she stopped like a person suddenly confronted by a ghost.

"I thought you had forgotten him!" the old man continued. "His extravagance helped to bankrupt his father, and to day he is where he should be-at a desk, carning his bread.”

"Papa, he is an old friend whom I cannot forget," the young girl answered. "As for his extravagance bankrupting his father-I think you must have been misinformed."

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Observation, Dot, observation!" cried the old man. "Come, I've had enough of this clinging to the first silly love of girlhood. You are expected to relinquish belledom ere long, and become the wife of Mr. Clyde. I command you to get this

You put on a great many airs for a bankrupt." young scapegoat out of your head. Be a woman; The young man flushed.

"I intend to keep my promise. You shall have the sum desired."

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'You are a leech that fastens on the pocketbooks of honest men."

"The persecutor smiled, but did not reply. "Meet me here to-morrow morning at eight, and after that you may sail whenever you wish. And the sooner the better, I assure you."

do not tarnish the family name! it is everything to us. Stain it, Dot, and away we go from society, disgraced, irretrievably ruined!"

"I do not think it would be as bad as that," the belle said with a smile. "I hold that there is no such thing as irretrievable ruin."

"We must not argue," was the reply. "I do not want to listen to such doctrine as young ladies sometimes preach. I want this question scttled: Are you going to forget this Titus Schuyler and live for the man who is soon to lead you to

the altar?"

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The interview was ended. Wilde Clyde stepped An hour later Wilde Clyde entered the mansion into the elegantly carpeted apartment of an eleva- and was cordially received by its inmates.

"I am going down to the beach to-morrow," the beautiful belle said, looking up into the eyes that regarded her from the piano.

"Alone, Dot?"

Dot seemed to put the question with a great deal of anxiety in her tone.

"Why, who but Dot Whyrl?" he replied passionately, stooping before she could move, and

"Yes. There is a romance in travelling alone snatching a kiss from her forehead.

which charms me."

"But you will not return alone," he said.

"Will you come after me?"

"Yes."

"Beware!" she cried, assuming a cold, insulted haughtiness as she drew back. "We are not wed yet, and there's many a slip—” "Oh! out upon that foolish proverb!" he ex

"Perhaps I shall not need your escort home," claimed. "I wish its author had never lived to she said with a smile.

"But I will come anyhow," he answered, as good naturedly, and the next moment she was singing:

"There's many a slip, a slip, a slip

There's many a slip, they say;

There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,
There's many a slip, they say."

She seemed to be smiling triumphantly while the last words fell from her lips, and he listened till the last strain had died away.

"Do you know," she said, "that one of those slips might fall to our lot before"

She paused, and ran her fingers lightly over the shining keys of the instrument.

"Before what, Dot?"

"Why, before I come back from the sea," she said.

He looked chagrined.

"We must accept it," he said. "But I saw somebody this evening."

"Catherine? It is said that she has returned." "No. I saw a gentleman who doesn't visit in this part of the city any more."

Dot blushed.

"Mr. Schuyler, I suppose."

"The same. We met accidentally before the Metropolitan. He seemed lively, poor fellow

"

"Poor fellow?" interrupted Dot, quickly, and rather sarcastically. "Why should he bear such a title?"

"He is out of our circle; he is at the desk-a place at which, a short time ago, he never expected to arrive."

"But I am sure that he does not hate his work," she answered. "He is more man to-day than when he was welcome in avenue society. I am quite certain that he does not consider himself a poor fellow."

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'Well, well," Clyde replied, somewhat nettled by her words. "We will not discuss this subject further. I saw him this evening, and he astounded me by the information that I was soon to become a Benedict."

"A Benedict!" and Dot Whyrl appeared to recover her gaiety in a light laugh, while her fingers touched the keys to

"There's many a slip, a slip, a slip
There's many a slip, they say.”

She appeared to take delight in torturing 'ner companion with that old song, for whenever he heard her sing it he bit his lips and often looked

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think."

She enjoyed his anger, for he was passionate, and a few moments later he had bade her goodbye, and was in the library with her father.

Dot sat in the parlor until she heard Wilde Clyde depart, then she stole to her boudoir and wrote a long letter, which she signed, but did not seal with crimson wax. Having done this, she finished packing a large trunk that stood near her escritoire, and when she rose, with a breath of relief, she closed the heavy lid.

She was ready to depart to the seaside; nothing remained for her to do, and she longed for the

morrow.

Bright and beautiful it came to her home, and the hour long looked for at last arrived.

Dressed for the journey, she entered the parlor to say good-bye to her father, who was perusing the morning paper.

The old merchant surveyed her from head to foot as she entered the room, saying, with outstretched hands:

"I've come to say good-bye, papa."

SEE ENGRAVING.

"So you are ready, Dot ?"

66

'Ready! sorry to leave you, but eager to see the fashionables on the beach," she said, with a smile. Then the old man dropped the paper, kissed his child, and saw a tear glisten on her cheek as he reluctantly released her.

The next moment Dot was gone.

"I must send Mr. Clyde down to Long Branch," the merchant said. "Dot seems to have some cherished plan in his head. A short time since she said that under no circumstances would she go to the seaside this summer; but now she is quite eager to go, and alone. Mr. Clyde is not busy just now. I must send him down for the purpose of keeping this wild child of mine out of mischief."

The old merchant was settled in his purpose; but he found upon inquiry, that Wilde Clyde had left the city for a few days.

"When he returns I'll send him down," the merchant said.

Wilde Clyde returned after an absence of six days. His first call was upon Mr. Whyrl, whose invitation awaited him at the hotel.

He found the old merchant in a state of rage bordering, as it seemed upon insanity.

"Have you beard it ?" cried Irel Whyrl. "The family name has been disgraced by my only child my Dot!"

"What! disgraced by Dot?" cried Wilde Clyde. "It cannot be!"

"Read this," and the merchant thrust the following letter, dated at Long Branch, into his visitor's

"Whom did he say was to be the future Mrs. hand: Clyde ?"

"DEAR PAPA-I am Dot Whyrl no longer. An

hour since I became Mrs. Schuyler. Forgive your

child, who lately promised you that she would Gleason's Pictorial

love the man who led her to the altar. Ours was a quiet wedding. Ask Mr. Clyde if he knows Emil Girard. He is here. Your child, DOT."

The young man's face flushed crimson while he read the letter, and when he looked up he did not speak for a moment.

"Well," he said, at last.

"It is all over. She is his," was the merchant's reply. Where is our family name now? Take her home with her bankrupt husband? Never! Mr. Clyde, who is this Emil Girard ?"

"I do not know."

The game had been lost. Wilde Clyde, baffled by the handsome belle of the avenue, left the mer-` chant's mansion never to return.

A second letter from the young bride told more strange history. It said that Emil Girard was an adventurer who had been hired by Wilde Clyde to bankrupt the Schuylers, in order that Titus might be ostracised from the circles wherein he was a lion. Thus he hoped to win Dot Whyrl.

But the girl herself had baffled him, and his illypaid tool had divulged his crimes.

He fled from the city, and when the old merchant learned the whole truth he came to the conclusion that his child had not tarnished the family name after all, and welcomed the young brida] couple to his home.

After all, it was but the triumph of a true woman's love, and Wilde Clyde, wherever he is today, knows "there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip."

It is needless to say that Dot is proud of her victory, and happy.

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On the first of January, 1878, we shall commence the publication of a choice and truly elegant weekly Pictorial (being a new series), with the above title, which it is our purpose to make not only the best, but the cheapest illustrated weekly in the country.

The best of artists have been engaged, and the corps of contributors will comprise the most eminent storywriters of the day. Each number of the paper will be

Beautifully Illustrated.

It will contain views of every populous city in the known world, of all buildings of note in the eastern or western hemisphere, of all the principal ships and steamers of the navy and merchant service, with fine and accurate portraits of every noted character in the world, both male and female. Sketches of beautiful scenery, taken from life, will also be given, with numerous specimens from the animal kingdom, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea. A large weekly of sixteen octavo pages. Besides the splendid illustrated

Stories of Sea and Land, Adventures, Anecdotes, etc. etc.,

Gleason's Pictorial

will contain several very interesting and instructive features, such as

HEALTH AND BEAUTY,

How to preserve the one and enhance the other.

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WHO IS THE COWARD?

BY JOHN DANFORTH.

EVER was there a more noble craft than the "Saucy Kate," when she sailed out of Marseilles harbor, in the spring of 1850, and no good ship was ever blessed with a pleasanter company. We were about twenty-five in number, and had taken the "Saucy Kate" for New Orleans. Prominent among us was a British officer, who was on his way to America to travel about our good country, a French Abbe, a Kentucky farmer, and a lady from Louisiana, who was returning home with her daughter.

This daughter was the star of the company. Her name was Ida-Ida Greville, and it was whispered that she was the heiress to a large fortune in slaves and plantations. Yet this was not the charm that won homage from all, and even from those who might have refused to touch property which lay in a plantation. Her figure was slight, but exceedingly graceful. Indeed, it seemed impossible for her to be otherwise; her complexion was very fair, while her eyes were large and melting, like those of many southern ladies, and her hair was gathered about her brows in gloriously clustering curls. When she first entered the cabin, she seemed so splendid a being, and so perfect an exhibition of spotless beauty, that every one rose involuntarily from his seat, and by one common impulse stood up till she was seated.

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In a few days she showed herself as fascinating in her manner as she was beautiful in person, to those who were favored with an introduction, and the beart of all on board were completely enslaved by this queen of beauty. The British officer who bore the title of Major Folsom, seemed particularly charmed by her, and having obtained an introduction, he constituted himself her special attendant. The "Saucy Kate was a magnificent vessel of 1800 tons, sharp as a razor and fast as the wind. And now it only remains to describe the captain. Captain Valmy was an extraordinary man in his personal appearance. He was of rather small stat ure, and his limbs slenderly, even delicately formed, His hand was small and white as a woman's, and his features were finely moulded. His face was very handsome, and his light hair was thrown back and curled closely to his head. His eyes were blue, but full of fire, and capable of lighting up with a sudden flash which was startling to behold. His voice was almost shrill in ordinary cɔnversation, yet musical, and we never heard how it was when aroused, as the mate generally communicated with the sailors.

Now from the first moment it was evident that a storm was brewing between the major and Captain Valmy. The major assumed an air of hauteur which was absurd, and to him who was the object of it, annoying. He was accustomed to a cool and common way of speaking, which was increased to a much greater degree whenever he addressed the captain. The rest of us contented ourselves with watching and awaiting the issue. Valmy certainly did not seem like a man who would endure very much of this treatment.

For several days the major went on, growing worse and worse every day. He would interrupt the captain in his remarks in the rudest manner, he would turn his back upon him in the most offensive way possible, and when he spoke to him, he would address him in a loud and offensive, and at last, peremptory manner.

The secret of the major's hatred seemed to be in the interest which Ida Greville took in the captain. She seemed to take more delight in talking with him than with any other. Early in the morning she would be out on deck listening to the captain. who, with never-tiring patience, and eloquent language, would explain to her the wonders of the sea, and relate a thousand wild stories of events which had occurred among those waters. Late at evening, too, he would show her the stars, by which, in critical times, the navigators would guide their courses, and still excite her never-flagging attention. Indeed, the wonderful beauty of Captain Valmy's stories of every kind of knowledge, were the admiration of all the passengers. This was only equalled by the subordination and respect of all the crew, who treated him with remarkable obedience. Yet all this only increased the hatred of Major Folsom. Through the day he endeavored to fascinate and charm the fair Ida, and then, while the captain was at his duties about the ship, he was left without a rival. Sometimes, however, a word would pass between Ida and the captain, which would make Major Folsom enraged beyond measure. It was evident that matters were rapidly approaching to a crisis.

At the dinner-table one day, the major coolly took away the meat, which the captain was accustomed to carve, sat down in the captain's place, and proceeded calmly to serve the meat. The captain entered, and without a word turned away. But there was a burning spot on both cheeks, and an unpleasant fire in his eye. We wondered at him. Was he a coward? The major sneeringly insinuated as much to Ida, who flushed crimson. Captain Valmy sat at the table with us no more.

But the major was not going to let him off so easily as this. He had other things in store for him. He talked more loudly and contemptuously of the captain. He made sneering allusions to his stature, and ironical remarks about his bravery. Once he climbed up to the cradle while the captain was taking an observation below, and threw some handfuls of oakum down upon him. At another time, he contrived to upset a pail of water which stood upon the quarter-deck, in such a way that it nearly all fell upon the captain. IIe turned frightfully pale, every muscle was convulsed; we saw the gigantic struggle which took place within him, and some of us trembled to see the fearful contest. Yet he calmly whistled a tune, and walked away.

He never came into the cabin now. He was insulted so constantly by the major, that he staid away as much as possible. For the rest of us, we had long ago concluded that he was incapable of taking offence, and though sorry for him, we considered him capable of taking his own part, and in fact, we concluded that it was not our business. Ida-the beautiful Ida, was at last turned from him. Surprised, shocked a thousand times at his want of manliness, she was at first cool with him,

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