And now the question was had those who were coming seen the fire?

A loud yell, unmistakably pure Comanche, came to their ears. This startled the whites for three reasons, the first of which was that they had no thought of being pursued by a large body of their sworn enemies. Secondly, their foes were nearer than they had taken them to be, and, thirdly, they had seen the fire before it was put out. In fact, it had been a beacon for them for nearly half an hour.

“Onto yer hosses, boys. We’ve got to race for it ag’in, an’ the devil take the hindmost.” The four sprung to their horses and quickly placed the saddles upon them. While they were adjusting the girths the bright moon, full and clear, peeped up above the eastern horizon, and lighted up the plain and the river.

Then our four friends saw where the Comanches were and what their number was. They were just on the edge of the river, and were about to dash into the water as the moon showed her smiling face.

There were five score of horses, but only half that number of Indians. Each man had a spare horse, which he led by the lariat.

This sight made the guide feel very anxious, for should their horses get tired they had no others to change to, while the Indians could mount their spare horses, and they being nearly fresh would gain rapidly upon the whites. As the four leaped upon their horses the Indians dashed into the water and came rapidly across.

Our friends rode off at as rapid a rate as they could through the forest. Three minutes afterward the band of Comanches emerged from the water and rode after them.

When the Indians reached the plain the four whites were in full view, and giving a war-cry they started in pursuit.

At the head of the warriors rode Red Buffalo, the chief.

He and the warriors who had escaped with him had met a large band after they had set the prairie on fire.

This was the band the chief before leaving the village had ordered to follow after him. They brought spare horses with them, and the chief, who did not feel sure that the fire had done the work he had intended it to do, resolved that, after the ground became perfectly cool, he would set out for the river. He knew that if his enemies had escaped they would be somewhere in this vicinity, and even if he did not find them he could find their trail. The Indians had come in sight of the fire, and had they not had spare horses they would have tried to sneak up onto their enemies. As it was they knew that they could catch up with them anyhow, and so they resolved to have a race.

Away they went over the treeless plain.

Not a rock, nor a tree, nor a mound was in sight; all was one boundless open plain.

The Indians were now in their glory, and they rode along yelling and howling in their fiendish glee. They felt sure of their foes now, and could afford to yell a little.

As to the chief, he rode along in silence, although he was even more rejoiced than any of his warriors. Was not his sworn enemy, the Hunter Hercules, in front of him, and was there not every chance of his being captured or killed? The chief knew the hunter well, and he was well aware that in the hand-to-hand fight that must occur, many would go down beneath the iron arm of the hunter before he was rubbed out.

CHAPTER XVIII.
RED BUFFALO MEETS HIS FATE.

The fugitives were slowly but surely losing ground, and so they urged their horses to the utmost. For the next mile they managed to keep up the distance between them and their pursuers.

At a word from Red Buffalo the Comanches slid onto their spare horses, and then the gain was plainly seen by both parties.

And now, away ahead the old hunter spies trees, and his object is to reach these if possible. There a stand can be made with a little chance of success, whereas, out on the open plain, they would be sure in the end to go under, though there would be a terrible struggle made before that could happen.

Again and again the three who rode mustangs kicked their heels into the sides of their small but game steeds, and the latter exerted every muscle and sinew to increase their speed.

Barry Le Clare could have easily distanced the Comanches on his noble white horse, Snow Cloud, but he was as brave a man as the sun ever shone upon. Never would he leave a comrade in danger. No, rather than do that he would suffer a dozen deaths.

His nature was a noble one, and when a man with his will resolved to do any thing, that thing was surely done.

He knew that it was his duty to stay by his comrades, and die with them if necessary, and his mind was made up to do it.

To tell the truth, he had no idea of running away.

The race was coming to a termination, for the whites were being overtaken, hand over hand. The trees were some distance off, and Ralph saw that the Indians would be up with them before they could reach the “motte” of timber beyond.

He resolves, however, to get as near to the trees as possible, and then to make a stand. It would then be “hilt to hilt.” What would be the issue? Were the four whites doomed to a horrible death?

The next fifteen minutes would decide their fate.

It looked very much as though they would never see another day, for ten to one, nay twelve to one, was more than enough to lay them out. The Indians now saw what the whites were aiming for, and they increased their speed so as to come up with them before the trees were reached. Both the horses that the Comanches led, and those that they rode were tired now, and had the fugitives only had fresh ones to mount they could have easily ridden away.

But the three mustangs were even more tired than those of the Indians, and at length Ralph saw that they must make a stand.

They were within a hundred yards of the trees, but the leading Comanches were up to them.

A word to his comrades sufficed to let them know his intentions, and then like a flash the whole four suddenly stopped in their wild career. Their rifles were discharged without lifting them to their shoulders.

There was no time to do this. Every second was precious to the whites, and every one must be used in diminishing the number of their foes. Every one of the rifle-bullets proved to hold a life in it.

Three warriors (the nearest to them) received the balls in their breasts, and with wild screams that were heard above the howls and yells of their comrades, they threw up their arms wildly above their heads, and letting their weapons drop to the ground, they slipped from their horses, and followed after them.

Giving his rifle a whirl around his head, the old hunter let it fly at one of his enemies. The Indian saw it coming and quickly dodged. He thus escaped a hard blow, but although the heavy rifle missed the one it was aimed at, yet it did its work.

An Indian behind the one aimed at, received it full in his breast, and he fell backward from his horse, pulling a comrade with him.

As the hunter threw his gun, the right arm of Monsieur Tierney was extended, and a faint crack was heard by his comrades.

The Indians heard nothing but they saw a little cloud of smoke, and also saw a comrade fall heavily from his horse.

Again the tiny revolver sounds the death-warrant of an Indian, and by this time the others had their pistols out.

Crack! crack! crack! they went, sounding high and clear above the noise of the combat. Again the deadly revolvers flashed out fire, smoke, and lead. Again the Indians recoiled before this deadly fire.

Then with a yell of rage that rolled hoarsely along the plain, they dashed forward, and the fight became a general hand-to-hand struggle.

The cracking of the revolvers scared the Indians for a time, but at length these gave out. As they did so, the whites threw them at their foes, knocking several from their saddles with these missiles.

The ones knocked over got upon their feet again, but one and all had badly damaged faces.

And now the combat was hand to hand, hilt to hilt.

Which of the two parties will prove victorious, and which will come out of the small end of the horn.

The knives of the three men were out, and in full play.

The little naturalist was using his heavy umbrella with great effect. This was a novel weapon to the Indians, and they are generally afraid of any thing new, even though it is not deadly.

Therefore they kept as far away from the “monsieur” as they possibly could. He managed to knock at least half a dozen from their horses, however, and began to get so excited that he broke into a torrent of French words.

His tongue ran on like a machine, freshly greased, and the Indians looked with wonder upon him. They thought that all persons who talked so much were either women or cowards.

Yet here was a brave man who could beat any talker they had ever seen. At every blow he gave a shrill yell and then went to work again with both his umbrella and his tongue.

As to the knives which the other three carried, the Indians were used to them, and they pressed our friends pretty closely.

The chief, Red Buffalo, was trying hard to get at the old hunter, and the latter nothing loth, was not trying to keep out of his way. At length the two came together, and the old hunter decided that then and there he would put an end to Red Buffalo, even though he was doomed to die the next moment.

Both carried knives, and as they came together, they raised them to strike. The Indian chief had mingled a great deal with the whites, and had learned many of their customs.

Among others, he had learned how to use a knife in quite a skillful manner, and now the hunter saw that he had no mean antagonist to deal with. Blow after blow followed in quick succession, and the others all stopped fighting to witness the struggle between the two leaders.

The Indian chief knew the power of his enemy’s arm, and he took care not to get within reach of it.

If the hunter ever clasped him in his arms, he would crush the life out of him, as easily as a grizzly bear.

Red Buffalo had, many a time heard of the great strength of the renowned Hunter Hercules, and he had seen some of his exploits himself, therefore he was pretty well acquainted with the latter’s mode of squeezing his enemy to death.

The chief thought that he was a match for the hunter with his knife, but soon the other whites saw that their comrade was just fooling with the Comanche.

Clash, went the knives against each other. Steel hit upon steel, and as if he was being beaten, the hunter went back a little.

He guided his horse with his knees, and the intelligent animal knew just which way its master wished it to go.

The chief, thinking that he was about to be the victor, gave a yell of triumph, and pressed his enemy more closely.

A grim smile lit up the rugged face of the hunter.

A dozen times he could have given the “coup de grace,” but he wanted to keep up the fight as long as possible, for he wanted to give his comrades a rest.

As for himself, there was no tiring him out. His muscles were like iron, and he could outlast any two men.

Again and again the Indian sought to put his knife into the hunter’s breast, but each time he was foiled by the latter, who easily warded off the fierce blows.

Had the Indian been an experienced fighter he would never have left his breast unguarded when he lunged out so fiercely. Even the horses of the two mortal foes seemed to hate each other, for they bit and kicked at each other, and reared up in their rage. At length, Ralph resolved to end the fight.

Just then he heard a shout of warning from one of his comrades. A hasty glance over his shoulder served to show him the cause of it. Three Indians were hastening to the aid of their chief. The hunter resolved that they should come up too late. A loud, terrible hurrah pealed forth from their lips, and like a thunderbolt he came upon the chief.

The latter’s attempt to guard off the deadly blows that were rained down upon him were useless.

A heavy blow from the hunter’s knife gave him his quietus, and like a stricken hog, he gave a grunt, and fell from his horse, stone dead. The knife had cut his black heart in twain.

Another yell came from Ralph as he turned, and in a moment he was upon the three warriors, who were coming to the aid of their chief. His knife pierced the breast of one of them, and he fell from his steed with the deadly blade in his body.

The Comanches saw that the hunter was now unarmed, and they thought they could easily kill him now.

Never were men more utterly mistaken in their lives.

Seizing hold of one of them he pulled him from his horse.

Then all saw that the man had been rightly named the Hunter Hercules. With what seemed to be a slight effort to what he was capable of making, he raised the heavy Indian above his head, and after balancing him a couple of seconds, sent him forward with a velocity that man had never seen before. It seemed as though he had been shot from the mouth of a cannon. The second Indian was struck in the breast by the first, and he was knocked a dozen feet from his horse.

Barry could not help thinking what a star the hunter would make in a circus.

CHAPTER XIX.
HILT TO HILT AND FACE TO FACE.

As the Comanches saw their leader fall, they uttered a thundering yell of rage, and came like a thunderbolt against the little band of whites. This was echoed by a chorus of hurrahs from the trappers, and then they went at it again.

There was no holding back on the part of the Comanches now.

They no longer cared for the Frenchman and his famous umbrella.

On they came, yelling like so many fiends, and the last spark of hope died out of the breasts of our friends, as they looked upon the ferocious crowd of howling demons.

There was not a spark of mercy in those gleaming, bloodshot eyes; no, all of that (if there ever had been any, which is extremely doubtful,) had died out with the death of their chief, Red Buffalo.

The old hunter had seized a knife and was now beside his three comrades. Any one, upon looking at these men sitting on their horses so quietly, would have thought that they were so terror-stricken that they could not move.

But let him take a glance at their faces, and then he sees that which makes him confess at once that his former conviction was utterly false. In those flashing eyes, firmly-set teeth, and stern-looking faces he would read their determination.

If it was fated that they should die, then at least they would go on fighting bravely. The Comanches did not like the appearance of the four hunters in front of them.

They looked like men in a desperate strait, who would fight for their lives like lions, and the Indians felt a little of their courage oozing out of their finger-ends, as they gazed upon them.

But they had gone too far now to hesitate, and so with horrible yells, given to help keep their courage up, they mingled with the four whites.

Then began a combat which could only end in defeat to one of the two contesting parties. None of those who were fighting, had even a thought that the whites would get off.

The Frenchman was separated from the rest and was valiantly defending himself from the fierce attack of several of the Indians.

His umbrella was whirling around his head, and now and then coming against the head of an Indian with stunning force.

The other three were together, and plying their knives with vigor on their dusky assailants.

More than one of the fierce, and bloodthirsty Indians went down before the iron arm of the Hunter Hercules, and yet despite all of his valorous deeds, it seemed as though the four whites must go under at last. There was not a single chance for them to escape (as far as they or the Comanches could see,) and they had already made up their minds to it.

Ralph had one consolation, however, and that was the fact that if he did have to give up the ghost, he had slain his hated enemy, Red Buffalo, first. To the old hunter this was a great thing, and he gloried in the fact that the Comanche chieftain had bit the dust with his knife in his heart.

It seemed too bad on the part of the little Frenchman that he should be killed just as he had found the wonderful herb, and accomplished the darling object of his life.

But Monsieur Tierney was game to the back-bone, and not a word came from his lips as he fought on with stubborn bravery.

The guide had, upon first sight, taken the Frenchman to be a city chap, who would run at sight of a timid deer.

Now he found how greatly he had been mistaken.

He cast several admiring glances over to where the gallant foreigner fought, and at length, seeing how the other was being pressed by his foes, he fought his way over to him, and with his strong arm, stood and fought beside him.

Although every one of the four whites fought with terrible ferociousness, dealing blow after blow with savage earnestness, yet the odds were too great. The arms of three of them began to ache.

Barry Le Clare and Chauncy had both received a few slight wounds, but as yet none of the whites had been hurt very much.

Horror of horrors; would this terrible strife never come to an end? Would the Indians ever put an end to it by killing their opponents, or by fleeing themselves?

As to the latter, there was no chance of their doing that. Comanches were never known to leave a foe when he was in their power, and it was not at all likely that they would do so in the present instance.

It seemed to the tired whites as though the combat had been going on for hours, and yet all that has been told in this and the preceding chapter, happened in the course of thirty minutes.

There was one thing that the Comanches saw, and that was, that their enemies would never be captured alive.

Knowing this, they made no effort to take them, but did every thing they could possibly think of, to kill them.

When Comanches can not get prisoners to torture, they are very well satisfied with scalps.

And now they concentrated their forces for a grand and final rush, which would cut down all of the whites.

The latter knew what was coming, and braced themselves for the coming struggle.

They were all together now, and with heaving breasts and determined countenances they awaited the event, holding their weapons in readiness. They knew that in five minutes more they would be most likely rubbed out, and they only wanted to let daylight into a few more of their dusky foes, before the fight reached its final and fatal termination.

There was no mistaking the scowling faces of the Indians, as with one sharp, quick yell, that meant business, they rode forward.

There were still eight to one, and this was too great odds for the whites to have any hope.

Help was nearer than they thought.

There was something in Chauncy’s breast that made him think that, after all, they would be saved.

As the Comanches dashed forward, Ralph happened to glance toward the grove of trees which was on the left of the whites, and to his intense joy, saw a large band of horsemen coming out of them, at a full, sweeping gallop.

A yell of satisfaction broke from his lips at this sight, and in among the Comanches he went, his huge fists lunging out right and left, and knocking several of the painted devils from their horses. At first the Indians knew not what to make of this. They had expected to do the attacking part, not their enemies. Their sharp ears soon heard the noise made by the approaching horsemen, and turning, they rode off, helter-skelter, with cries of surprise and rage.

It was very mortifying to say the least; this being defeated just when the fortune of war seemed about to make them victorious. The horsemen came up to the four whites, but only two stopped. These were Don Carlos and his daughter. The rest swept on after the Indians, and gained upon them, too.

The tables were completely changed now. The Indians were the fugitives, and whites the pursuers.

“Ye just come up in good time, Don Carlos. In five minits we’d ’a’ been rubbed out,” said the guide.

“Why, how are you, old friend? Give us your hand. How have you been making it lately, Ralph?” said the Don.

“Oh, pretty well. How’s that, Don?” said Ralph, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder. The Don turned and saw that the young hunter had Donna Iola in his arms.

“It seems to have gone too far to be stopped, even did I wish it. Who is the young fellow, Ralph?” said the young girl’s father.

“He’s the son o’ an old friend an’ comrade o’ mine. We fit in the Mexican war together. He’s a rich gentleman, an’ lives out East. His name is Major Branrare,” said Ralph.

“What’s that? Branrare, did you say? An uncommon name, and the name of my adopted mother’s brother, and I have heard that he was an officer in the Mexican war. If this young fellow should prove to be his son, it will be all right for him. I will speak to him about it as soon as possible,” said the Don.

CHAPTER XX.
WINDING UP THE TALE.

The band of horsemen and the Comanches had long since disappeared in the distance.

The moon continued to look down from the clear sky as though smiling with joy at the escape of the whites.

The six rode over to the grove of trees in which the Don and his party had encamped. Chauncy remained with the young girl for over half an hour, and then the Don told him he wanted to speak to him for a few moments.

Reluctantly he tore himself away from the company of Iola, and went with her father. He expected the latter to ask him what his intentions were in regard to the Donna, and was not surprised in the least when he said:

“Ralph, here, tells me that you are the son of Major Branrare. Is it so?”

Chauncy at once replied in the affirmative.

“Did you ever hear your uncle Henry Montgomery, who married your father’s sister, speak of his adopted son?” asked the Don.

“Hundreds of times,” replied Chauncy; “and it is to hunt for him that I am out on the plains. Several things, among which is your name and your knowledge of family matters, which I had not noticed before, now make me think that I have accidentally come across him. How is it?”

“You are right. But first tell me how my father, for such I own him to be, is?” said the Don.

“Both he and his wife are dead. His last words were about you,” was Chauncy’s reply.

“Heavens, is it true? I knew that mother was dead, but my adopted father? Did he forgive me before he died?” asked the Don, in a voice choked with emotion.

“He did, and also told me that he found out too late that you had just cause to run away from home. He bequeathed you two-thirds of his fortune,” said the young man.

The two relatives, by adoption, talked for some time.

Then all in the camp but one, who stood guard, went to sleep.

About an hour or so before daybreak, a trampling of hoofs aroused them, and they got to their feet just in time to see their friends coming up.

The Comanche band had been entirely demolished. Not half a dozen of the red-skins had escaped the fury of the brave vaqueroes and peons.

They now came back, bringing a drove of nearly sixty-five horses, which with their lassoes—which they knew how to handle superbly—they had captured.

The next morning the whole band set out for the hacienda of Don Carlos. They were three days in making it as they took their time to it.

While resting here, the circus-rider gave a performance, and made the Mexican vaqueroes, who ride splendidly themselves, open their eyes with wonder and admiration.

They had never seen such riding before, and it was in vain that they tried to imitate it.

Notwithstanding all of their natural sharpness and their life on horseback, they could not do what the rider Barry Le Clare did on his famous horse Snow Cloud.

The little Frenchman was anxious to get back to “la belle France” with his renowned herb, and he and the guide soon took leave of the others.

Ralph promised that he would fix up his affairs in the West and come East to live with his old chum, Major Branrare. He privately whispered in Chauncy’s ear that he would be in New York in time to eat some of the wedding-cake, at which the young man laughed and promised to delay that ceremony, in case he, Ralph, should happen not to get in the city at the given time.

Two weeks afterward, a party left the hacienda for the East. It consisted of Mr. Montgomery, his daughter Iola, Chauncy, Barry Le Clare, and a dozen peons as guards.

The hacienda was left in the charge of Alvarez, an old and trusted servant, and the best trailer in the country.

They intended to come down during a part of every year and spend a month or two at the home which the runaway had made in the wilderness, and in which he had lived for years. He could not bring himself to sell it, and when Chauncy saw what a lovely place it was, his advice was against parting with it. The party reached Austin in safety, and here they parted with all but two of the peons.

From New Orleans they took passage in a steamboat up to Cincinnati, and from thence they went by rail to New York.

Chauncy’s father, a noble gentleman, welcomed his former friend and adopted brother, warmly.

A fine residence was bought on a fashionable street, and then Mr. Montgomery proceeded to take his ease.

Iola was introduced into the first society, and created quite a sensation. It was acknowledged by all that she was the “belle of the season,” and many young gents sought her company. Iola looked upon them with contempt, however. They were not half so handsome as her Chauncy, and she knew that none of them had the courage her affianced possessed.

At length, one bright morning, Ralph Bison arrived, dressed in a handsome suit which quite became him.

With the prairies he left his hunter’s language, and now looked and conversed like a perfect gentleman.

The first evening he was in New York he had quite an adventure. Going along a dark street, he saw half a dozen brutal loafers insult a young lady. Ralph took her part and the whole crowd went for him, but the Hunter Hercules proceeded to try his old plan. Catching up one man he hurled him against the others, and left the whole six lying in the gutter, ending up his gallant exploit with escorting the young lady home.

When the time for Chauncy’s wedding came on, the young man learned to his surprise that Ralph instead of standing as groomsman to him was about to stand as groom.

The double wedding passed off finely.

Ralph acted his part to perfection, and no one looking at the handsome middle-aged gentleman standing at the side of the blushing young girl would have guessed that he was the famous Hunter Hercules.

After the wedding, the two couples, accompanied by Barry, set out for Europe, intending to make the tour.

Chauncy had made the tour several times before, but this time he was really happy.

They finished up with a visit to Paris, for this city ought to be seen last, (or ought to have been before the war.)

The five were looking at some fine picturesque monument and commenting upon it, when a voice behind them drew their attention to the speaker.

“Sacré,” said the person behind them, “it is von great pleasure for me to welcome mine friends to la belle France. Mon Dieu, monsieurs, it is von fine country.”

They did not recognize the speaker. He was finely dressed, and had a gold representation of an herb pinned onto his coat lapel.

“Deuce take it, boys, it’s the ‘Mounseer,’” said Ralph, emphasizing the word, which he could speak as well as any one if he chose; “look at the umbrella.” It was the truth.

The stylish gentleman was Monsieur Tierney, now a noted professor. His rival had quit the ranks of the naturalists when he had come home with the wonderful herb, the model of which he wore as an emblem.

He was a rich man now, and still he carried the huge umbrella which had done so much service on the plains.

He took our friends to a magnificent mansion which he owned, and treated them in a sumptuous manner.

He promised to come out in a few years and see them and that wonderful horse, Snow Cloud.

The professor gave a large supper in their honor, and at the table he arose to his feet and gave a toast which brought forth cheers.

“Gentlemen,” said the professor, “I have von toast to propose. To von who is a true friend, a brave man and a noble husband. Gentlemen, I drink in honor of de Hunter Hercules.”

THE END.

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DICTIONARY OF DREAMS.—Comprising the most complete interpretation-Dictionary ever prepared, embracing the whole Alphabet of subjects.

☞ It is a volume full of interest even to the general reader, being, in that respect, something like Mrs. Crowe’s “Night Side of Nature,” and Robert Dale Owen’s “Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World.”

No. 5.—DIME FORTUNE-TELLER.
COMPRISING THE ART OF FORTUNE-TELLING, HOW TO READ CHARACTER, ETC.

CONTENTS.

FORTUNE-TELLING BY CARDS.—Dealing the Cards by Threes, Dealing the Cards by Sevens, Dealing the Cards by Fifteens, The Twenty-one Cards, The Italian Method, Present, Past and Future, Another Method of Consulting the Cards, To Know if you will Get your Wish, The English Method of Consulting the Cards.

HOW TO TELL A PERSON’S CHARACTER BY MEANS OF CABALISTIC CALCULATIONS.

PALMISTRY, OR TELLING FORTUNES BY THE LINES OF THE HAND.

FORTUNE-TELLING BY THE GROUNDS IN A TEA OR COFFEE CUP.

HOW TO READ YOUR FORTUNE BY THE WHITE OF AN EGG.

DREAMS AND THEIR INTERPRETATION.

No. 6.—DIME LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER.

Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Society, etc.

CONTENTS.

No. 7.—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET.

A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship and Marriage. Embracing also a complete Floral Dictionary, etc.

CONTENTS.

FRIENDSHIP.—Its Personality, Between Man and Woman, Close Communion Proper, Letters, A Warning, Excellent Advice, A Prime Point, Allow no Improper Intimacy, Special to Young Men, Something to Avoid, Gallantries, Gifts, Beware of Love, Correspondence.

LOVE.—The Dawn of Love, Love’s Secretiveness, Confidences, The First Consciousness of Love, A Man’s Way, A Woman’s Way, Unworthy Objects of Love by Woman, Unworthy Objects of Man’s Love, How to Avoid Mistakes.

COURTSHIP.—The Door Ajar, Disengaged, Engaged: at what age is it proper, Engagement not to be protracted, The Wooing Time, The Proposal, Asking Papa, The Rights of a Parent, Engaged, Proposal Rejected, Breaking off an Engagement.

MARRIAGE.—The Proper Time, Various forms of Marriage, The Trousseau, Presents, Bouquets, The Bridesmaids, The Bridegroomsmen, The Bride, The Bridegroom, the Certificate, After the Ceremony, The Wedding Breakfast, “Cards” or “No Cards,” Notes Congratulatory.

AFTER MARRIAGE.—Something to be Read Twice, Twelve Golden Life-Maxims, A Talk with the Unmarried.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Language of the Handkerchief, Language of the Fan, Language of the Cane, Language of Finger Rings, Wedding Anniversaries, viz.: The Paper Wedding, Wooden Wedding, Tin Wedding, Crystal Wedding, Linen Wedding, Silver Wedding, Golden Wedding.

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.—How to Use the Vocabulary, The Vocabulary. I—Flowers, The Vocabulary. II—Sentiments.

No. 8.—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION.

A Guide to Dancing. Giving Rules of Etiquette, Hints on Private Parties, Toilets for the Ball-room, etc.

CONTENTS.

ETIQUETTE.—Arrangements, Private Parties, The Parlor or Dancing Apartment, Music, Refreshments, Ladies’ Toilets, Gentlemen’s Dress, The Guests.

MASQUERADES.

PROMENADE CONCERTS.

SOCIABLES.

ORDER OF DANCING.

SPECIAL RULES OF CONDUCT.

SQUARE DANCES.—Plain Quadrille, Double Quadrille, The Nine Pin, The Lanciers, The Caledonians, The Prince Imperial, The Virginia Reel, The Spanish Dance, La Tempete.

ROUND DANCES.—The Waltz a Trois Temps, Waltz in Double Time, Cellarius or Mazourka Waltz, The Schottische, The Polka, the Galop, Redowa, Polka Redowa, Esmerelda, Danish Polka, The Varsoviana.

☞ These books are for sale by all newsdealers; or will be sent, postpaid, to any address, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS EACH, by

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William Street, New York.