There was a man named Mord whose surname was Fiddle; he was the
son of Sigvat the Red, and he dwelt at the "Vale" in the
Rangrivervales. He was a mighty chief, and a great taker up of
suits, and so great a lawyer that no judgments were thought
lawful unless he had a hand in them. He had an only daughter,
named Unna. She was a fair, courteous, and gifted woman, and
that was thought the best match in all the Rangrivervales.

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"Deceived in Freindship and Betrayed in Love."

LETTER the FIRST From ISABEL to LAURA

How often, in answer to my repeated intreaties that you would give my Daughter a regular detail of the Misfortunes and Adventures of your Life, have you said "No, my freind never will I comply with your request till I may be no longer in Danger of again experiencing such dreadful ones."

Surely that time is now at hand. You are this day 55. If a woman may ever be said to be in safety from the determined r> Perseverance of disagreeable Lovers and the cruel Persecutions of obstinate Fathers, surely it must be at such a time of Life. Isabel

Silver Blaze

"I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go," said Holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning.

"Go! Where to?"

"To Dartmoor; to King's Pyland."

Through the kindness of Dorothy Gale of Kansas, afterward Princess Dorothy of Oz, an humble writer in the United States of America was once appointed Royal Historian of Oz, with the privilege of writing the chronicle of that wonderful fairyland. But after making six books about the adventures of those interesting but queer people who live in the Land of Oz, the Historian learned with sorrow that by an edict of the Supreme Ruler, Ozma of Oz, her country would thereafter be rendered invisible to all who lived outside its borders and that all communication with Oz would, in the future, be cut off.

"TOM!"

No answer.

"TOM!"

No answer.

"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"

No answer.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the
room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never
looked through them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state
pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service --
she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked
perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough
for the furniture to hear:

"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll -- "