The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

 i HIS SACRIFICE OB. For Love of Her. CHAPTER XXIILâ€" (CovnscED.) J oat then Louie caught sight of them, und with her face all bright with smile* beck- oned them to come to her. " You go," Aline said, in a voice that â- aanded strained and onnatoral even to her- 8^ "I want to look at something." She could not talk to any of them yet she most be alone for a little while. So she went back into the cathedral, and there, in a gloomy comer of that great church which for centuries has been building, and which is yet unfinished. Aline Brentwood fought ha battle. There was no anger or bitterness in her heart toward Louieâ€" she was too no- ble for that. There was only the agony, the despair of knowing that she loved Percy- would love him as long as her life lasted, and that he would never, never love her. She was BO youngâ€" life without love seemed so terrible to her; she shudderedas she thought she might live thirty, forty years, perhaps lmger, and those years would be so very wearisome. „ "I -ever thought I should love m vain, she moaned, bowing her small, proud head upon her hands. " I have always thought tha* must be so terribleâ€" to love and not be ]ovedâ€" now I know that there is nothmg more bitter in life." "She was tired," she said, wearily, when she joined the rest of the party, and they noticed and spoke of her white face, the pur- ple shadows under the great dusky eyes, poor Aline she was tired â€" tired almost of living she was too passionate, her nature ^a too stroDg.to allow her to suffer calmly; evVy ^^^""' ^^ fibre in her body quivered and throbbed with pain. That af ternoOH Mrs. Brentwood going luto T onie's room found her busily writine. I am writing to mamma," she said, lookinf? nP fâ„¢"" ^^^ p^per. " Shall I looKinft j^r^^ Brentwood, what a trouble you V laughing merrily as she ' I am just her where tell her I am to "Pf.^You can tell her how much we all love vnn " rpnlied ^^rs. Brentwood, affection- "y, "Have yO» ^^^^ ^er about Mr.Evring- ham '" " Oh, yea, "a nswered ^-ouie writing about him now, tellmg and how we met him, how pleasant and agreeable he is, and how much we all l.ke him and to set dear mamma's heart at rest I have told her too all about his family, of the high social position the Evringhams have always held, for you know, Mrs. Brent- wood, mamma is very particular about those things." ,, " So am I," said Mrs. Brentwood • one can't be too particular nowadays but cer- tainly no one can find any fault with Percy Kvringham. And now, dear, I will go, and let you finish your letter." So Louie wrote until her letter was com- pleted, and the next day it started on its way across the sea, bcariny to Muriel the news that her daughter had met Percy Evringham. CHAPTER XXIV. The summer had passed very pleasantly and happily to Muriel, Newport had never be^i gayer or livelier her most intimate friends had cottages there, she had met hosts of charming people, every day had brought its pleasures. Muriel knew she was greatly admired, that she was considered one of the most beautiful married ladies at New- port, that the society of herself and hus- band was openly sought. Any entertain- ment at her house was sure to be attended by the best people, for Mr. Anthon was as agreeable and entertaining a host as his lovely wife was a charming and graceful hostess. No woman in Newport had a more perfectly-appointed house, a handsomer or â- Qore devo.ed husband, a prettier phaeton, a fairer reputation, or more exquisite toilets than Muriel Anthon, Certainly there was no reason why she should not be perfectly happy. She had missed Louie of course, but not nearly so much asmany mothers would have missed an only child. Louie bad spent a number of years at boarding-school, Muriel had grown accustomed to living without her, consequently her absence now did not seem at all strange or unusual. It was one lovely ai'ternoon that Louie's letter came to her â€" the letter in which the girl had wTitten of Percy Evringham. She was alone in her pretty room, lyirg upon a silken couch drawn up in front of one of the long windows. Her father and mother wtre visiting her they had gone to drive with Arundel, while she, contrary to her usual custom, had remained at heme they were all going to attend a reception that evening, and she had a slight headache which she thought a little quiet rest in her own room would banish. She had been reading, but her book had not proved very interesting, and she had let it 'slip to the floor, and lying there in dreamy idleness, the wind from the sea lifting the soft waves of hair from her forehead, stirring the foam- ing lafies of her snowy peignoir, she had been thinking what a happy life hers had been. It had been all sunshine, all bright- ness. Two lines from a little poem tiiat was a favorite with her came into her mind Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. No rain had fallen into her life, she had never known any dark and dreary days, and she smiledâ€" a little half grave, half-tender smile, as she said to herself ' 'Perhaps the dear poet did not know what I know so well that there can be love strong and warm and bright enough to keep the rain of bitter pain, the darkness and dreari- neai of sorrow and grief ont of life for it is my husband's love that has made my life so bright and sunshiny." It was true. False, treacherous, as Arun- del had been, untrue to every principle of honor and truth within him, he had made Muriel happy happier than Russel could have ever made hec. The entrance of her maii with Louie's let- ter roused her from her happy reverie. Ris- ing from her couch she looted down at the earelope with its post-mark, Cologne, a very happy smile upon her face. "Dear child," she murmured, "she never forgets to write to me, and her letters are iJ- w^s 80 bright and entertaining she has "Is your headache better, my darling?" he asked, tenderly, "1 hope so. Why, Miiriel what is it " For she had raised her face to his. He had seen the trcuble*' anxious, worried look upon it, the trace of sorrowful thoughts about the quivering lips, the pain in the wistful eyes. She laid her hands upon his arm, dropping her head upon his breast with a long, trem- bling sigh. "I am 80 glad you have come, Rnssel I wanted you so much, I am so troubled, so worried about sometMng. ' ' He put his arm caressingly around her. "Troubled and worried? About what darling?" "Oh, Russel, 1 have had a letter from Louie. She has met â€" he in travelling with themâ€" Percy Evringhamâ€" Howard Evring- lam's grandchild, the son of that other Percy Evringham." "Muriel " It was a gasping moan, that was all and it was as thoagh the grey mist creep- ing over the sea had settled upon Arundel's face. " It seems so terrible, does it not " con- tinned Muriel, " to think that Louie and he have met each other, tiat they are good friends, t! «^ they laugh and ta'k together, and neither of them knows that sht is the niece of the man who murdered his father.' " Muriel, for God's sake stop " She wound her arms arouad him. the rare faculty of writing jnatH she talks when I read her letters 1 forget tbey are letters, it seems as though she was aittiog in her old pUc»â€" on aa ottoman at my feet, looking up into my face, and talking to me.' Mmiel's always did enjoy Louiti's letters i they wereaach pretty, original letters, with little flashes of humor breaking out here and there n them, for Louie had a keen sense of the ridiculous. Stepping out through one of the long windows upon a little balcony, cool and rhady at this hour of the day, for the afternoon sun did not shine upon it. Muriel sank down nn a low wicker chair, and tearing open the envelope, took out the closely-written sheets of thin foreign note- paper it contained. The sea lay shimmering in the bright sun- shine, dotted here and there with gleaming sails, the blue, cloudless sky bent tenderly over it, a few sea-gulls were wheeling in the air. For a moment Muriel's eyes rested upon the scene before her â€" she had an art- ist's eye for beauty â€" then settling herself comfortably in her chair, she began Louie's letter. • She had read the first two or three pages w'uen suddenly she sat upright in her chair, the look of pleased interest upon her face gave place to an expressi jU of startled hor- ror, her eyes besran to grow dark with sup- pressed excitement, her breath came quick and fast, as rapidly, and with painfully in- tense eagerness, she read over the remain- ing pages; ihen, with a low cry, she clasped her hands together almost despair- ingly. " Percy Evringham I The little boy who was five years old when Russel told me that terr.ble story â€" the little boy who never saw his father â€" the child of the man my husband's brother murdered " The color all faded out of her face, her lips were trembling, her hands were cold. " Why is it he and Louie have been brought together " she continued. ' 'Surely they ought never to have known each other â€" she, the niece ot the man who murdered his father. Ah, heaven, think of it It seems so terrible to think that after all these years the Evringham and Anthon names are again connected. And how is it that Percy Evringham does not hate Louie because she bears the same name that the man who made him fatherless and motherless bore Can it be that he has been kept in ignorance of the manner of his father's death, that he does not know that an Anthon killed him It must be so just as I have kept from Louie the fatal truth that there is a stain of blood upon the proud old Anthon name, so, perhaps, have the Evringbams kept from Perey the knowledge of how his fath- er died." She shuddered as she repeated the name, Percy Evringham.. How plainly it all came back to her, the memory of that night bo long ago when she had heard it for the first time she remembered the white agony upon Russel's face when he had spoken of the lit- tle five-year-old boy whom his sinning, way- ward, reckless brother had made fatherless, and her own feelings for Arundel â€" feelings of mingled condemnation and pity, horror for his sin, compassion for his miserable, lone- ly, weary 1 fe. As the years had rolled by she had though less and less of the shadow that darkened the Anthon name. Long ago, when Louie was a tiny baby, the subject had been fresh in her mind, and often she had spoken of it as we all speak of matters that rest heavily upon our thoughts, but whenever she spoke of it her husband's face turned so ashy pale, it seemed lo be such a bitterly painful subject to him, that after a while she ceased to speak of him about it, and it came about that Arundel and his sin were rarely, if ever, mentioned Once she had said " Arundel is dead, we will let his sin die with him, we will not speak of it. " And he had answered hoarsely "Yes. Muriel, Arundel is dead â€" dead we will not speak of him." But now, after all these years, the time had come when she must speak to him about it, speak long, and earnestly, and seriously; she needed his advice, he must decide for her whether or no Louie should be allowed to remain in ignorance of the red link be- tween ihe Evringhams and the Anthons. Would he be startled and horror-stricken as she was, when she told him of the strange and inexplicable fate which had brought Jjouie and Percy together She had no idea how long she fat there. Tlie suQ sank lower and lower toward the horizon, great masses of rose-color and gold banked themselves in the west, over- head the clear blue sky was flecked with spots of pink and amethyst, far away from the land a grey mist was creeping over the £ea. Suddenly she started to lier feet. He was comingâ€" her husbandâ€" she heard his footsteps. Arundel had caught a glimpse of Muriel's white draperies. Through the open window he came, a smile upon his handsome, high- bred face. talk "I know it harts you to have me^ about it, Kum^ ' "°"*.'f,*.*^K?Si^ JBst as we talked about it that night Wore yon went to Mexico. Yon .f^"*â„¢' don't yon how you told me all ataut Arun- del and his wUd, sinful, reckl^s hf e, how we spoke of tho poor lltUe boy who was "O""' 1^ and fathSesa. Yes, we must m^f it agam now, for our daughter and Percy Evnogham's son have met each other,- Wfain the Athon. and the Evringhams have come together, and we must decide what to An " " Muriel, I cannot decide now, I must think." .^. Hia voice was strained and hoarse with agony, his face was white and tense. LOia was terrible, almost more than he could bear. It was like taking mnrdered Percy Evringham out of the grave where he had lain so long, and holding the dead form, with the cruel wonna in the head, up before him. Every detail of that fearful night came back to him the game of cards, the angry words, the swift blow, the blood upon his hands as he raised the fallen man,the horror, the agony, the remorseâ€" he lived it all over again. "And Rnssel," said Muriel, too busy with her own distuibine, barrassing thoughts, to pay much attention to his strange manner, "Louie writes as though she liked him, and he liked her suppose they should grow to love each other, should want to marry? Oh, Russel, what could we do? Surely, an Anthon should not marry an Evriog- ham." " Mrs. Anthon, it is growing late shall 1 not arrange your hair for the evening " It was her maid who spoke. By a mighty effort Arundel regained his com- posure. "She is right, i: is growing late. We will talk this all over to-night, perhips. Go, now, Muriel, and make your toilet." He stood calm and motionless until she had left him, then he sans dovra upon the low wicker chair, and bent his head until it rested upon the light rail ot the balcony. " Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord reached C9nT«(M rooati and borne and Mnnel, after a httle tioTwith her mother, went into her after chan«iBg her white ' Bilk â„¢^!Md^»maid,andsatdownby her open ^wtf Slit unta her husband should •^SS/SSfnot help it. tr^r »»• '-fld the contents of the letter ste had that Aiy J^jved from Louie worried and troubled her. She had a vague feeling that this CHAPIER XXV. A feeling of fear, vague yet terrible, jvas upon Arunde' Anthon as he sat there on the balcony. I hud come upon him, when Muriel had mentioned the name â€" the fatal name, Percy Evringham. A fear of dread and tribulation was coming, that sooner or later vengeance would fall crushing upon him, that this was the beginning of the end. Eighteen years had he succeeded in stifling conscience, keeping do ivn remorse he failed to do either now. Conscience lifted its voice, not still and small, but as loud and strong that it penetrated the farth- est recesses of h's heart and brain re- morse, like a swollen river torrent, swept over him. Percy Evringham. That name, like a key, opened the long-closed doors of the store- house of memory, and let loose a legion of remembrances. His false, sinful life rose up before him, he saw the black deed he had committed in all their foul nakedness, murderer, adulterer, thiefâ€" he was all of these. He loathed himself with unutterable loathing. But the wild rush of remorse, the loud crying out of conscience, was only moment- ary. It did not take Arnndel Anthon's thoughts long to travel down from the night when he held Percy Evringham's dead body in his arms to the present hour, though every detail of those gone by years was touched. Back into oblivion went the ter- rible memories, hushed was the voice of con- science, stemmed the tide of remorse the past, with its sins and falsities was gone the present required thought and action, and defiantly Arundel Anthon raised his head, an expression upon his face as though within the last second he had resolved to control the present and the future, to challenge even fate itself. Once, twice, he walked the length of the little balcony, then sat down again to take counsel with the evil spirit, to whom years ago he had surrender- ed himself. Percy Evringham, the sou ot the man whose hf e he had unintentionally taken and Louie, the girl whom all the world believed to be his own daughter, had met each other. What was to be the result of that meeting ' Fate had brought them togetherâ€" for what purpose Arundel asked himself these oues- tions Finding he could not answer them he did not stop to ponder them, to fret himself with though'.s and conjectures of what might be. The nervous trembling, the fear and dread, was gone now he was again b's cool, calm, collected self. After all, there was nothing unnaturally strange m the fact that Louieand Percv had been brought together it did not neces- sanJy go to show that evil was coaang upon U^lJ"^^^- \-^°" '"â- ^*^ °f relief, and leuied back in his chair. He had been weak f^'^t^^'u^H-*^ '^^" '""^^^ to be so dTs- turbed by the mention of the najie, Percv Evringham. ' The western 8ky was all one blaze of crimson and gold now-the day was dyini fast, and while the purple twiUght cr«)t over the sea, Aruniersat the^ think- ing-thinking seriously and earnestly un«l Muriel's voice interrupted his thoughte Russel, dew, had you not better make your toilet for the evening »" '^^ " unusually bright and gay that He was evening at dinner, T^^ ,?ff/°«. °o shadow upon his face swept the httle cloud of worr^ng though; from her own, saying to herself • *^ "'**"g" " He aoes not think there is anything very strange orternblein the fact that S and dead Percy Evringham's son ha" Cn brought together. He has thought itln over and though I do not yet kSw at wbJl honslusion he has arrived T «,« .7 'l""' that he does not th^rtteJe'^^ ZitZl m ^it over which we need trouWe^ on « He had never looked handsomer tK,^ « that evening of Mrs.- EarlXtLptL^^ev^er had his conversation been more ^Wf„; and witty, his manners m^?e aSX"^! easy. Not one in that brilliMwi" suspected that a few hours Seh^^^ sufiered as he had not bufferA^ f " no one would have drlam^tw !5 l^^^ He smi Be and Mr. Trowbridge went i«f„ *i. oking-room to have '%ll7\lS:' t^; coming of Percy Evringham into their In cs â„¢ ii some way to affect them how she knew not. that only the future would show. pJJhaps. after all these yews, dead Percy Evrinlhkm was to be avenpd. but it would not be^ right or just--.urely God woijd not permit hsr innocent Louie to suffer in £ny way because of her dead brother's sin, and Muriel sighed heavily as site said to her- self "Little did I think that night, when Rus- sel told me the name of the man his brother killed, that when again I heard and spoke the name, Percy Evringhana, it would be in connection with my own child. "I have been waiting for you, Russel, she said simply, when the door opened and Arundel came into the room. "Come and sit by me, I want to talk to you. He seated himself beside her on the low couch, and looking lovingly, tenderly at her. The moonlight streaming through the open windows fell upon her how wondrously beautiful the pure perfect face was in the silvery lightâ€" it was something to have sinned for love of such a lace as that. With a sudden impulse he folded the lovely white clad figure in his arms, and pressed his lips to the soft, sweet ones which had never, since the day he had first kissed them, re- fused to meet his. "My darling," he murmured passionately, "I think for love of you almost any man would sin." She nestled closer to him. "I think sins that are committed for love's sake are the saddest of all sins," she said. "It has always seemed to me that it is easier for Gud to forgive such sins than any others." Under his breath he whispered "Heaven grant it so," while she continued, with a little tender smile " Even for love of me there has never been occasion for you to sin not in the slightest way. " He caught his breath chokingly. " Mariel, it is only a supposition, darlmg â€" but suppose, for love of you, solely for love of you, I had sinned deeply, terribly, blackened my very soul, lost every chance of heaven, been false to eVery instinct of truth and honor within ma â€" would you, could you, love me, Muriel, or would you hate me " He hid his face upon her hair while the waited for h er answer, that she might not see the look of agonized intensity which he knew had come upon it. Just an instant she was silent, then she threw her arms around him "Yon could do nothing that would make me hate you," she said, passionately. "If, as you say, yon had sinned for love of me, I would love you just the same, though that sin might have been as foul and black as ever man committed. My love for you v. more than loveâ€" it is idolatry, it is worship I could not live without you." The form within his arms was trembling in every limb, the face upon his breast was deathly white in the moonlight. One long, deep-drawn breath escaped him he was satisfied. Even if the worst that could be should come, it would matter little. No- thing would matter so long as Muriel loved him, and she did love, would love, him al- ways. He could not speak. He could only kiss again and again the soft lips, the little hands, the pure forehead, and Muriel look- ed up wonderingly, as she felt hot tears up- on her face. "What is it, dear?" she asked. And he answered, finding a voice at last My heart » so full of love for you, Mur- iel, that It overflows in gUid tears." fi,!*"" few moments they were both silent, those two wno were bound together bv a love as strong and deep as any that had ever existed between a man and woman Sn every life there are moments of perfect happiness °ornU^t'"h"l^"r"' °^ forgetfulne^Tf Si sorrow thai make up for years â-  ' pam-moments when the beating and 13 3 were tne ana painâ€" moments when the beating and woridtLl'if «r*i^^"-^d K:Sf the riJer is i W "^t^ ^\^ '^^" '•"^J^ of life's river IS ca me*. Bit those moments are only moments. Perhanq i ""Jâ„¢**"" ^^e earth.^atures are nots^^g enouTto Wr Sr?o3 of tfmr U ^â- "?.P'°^«« fo ° alonS S?o1olTfac^reLVh'°"«'^*' thi;t\t°unhis'L\"t *tf p" ^?* .^^^ ham's son and ou?LoS" i '"" ^^".°«- He had prepared hTmsdflorT-'""""^- sation which he knew would .^ **"" '^°°^*" later. Had thm7„if* ° '^°'^^ sooner or balcony^at evening ITJ """"« °° *he ly " "^ening, so he answered cilm- meeting, that is all " P^^ chance "Tin* T) 1 â-  J that this IS the niece ,-â€" 6» """x 18 ail. â-  of his father's murderer?" (TO BE CO.VTixpgjj J ^byioaian SUver. The British Museum ha. • interesting coUecS of gKl"'""'-^ " which give an insight into *i, 'Ij" "^^^" the Babylonians, Si4m?JJ^ daily life of of the bird-dealer-rshonTp*' "' °^ *^« "' objecte, which were aU f5^^?P*"' ^^^« the site of Babybn £Ll°^°^, together on silver dishes, the bS L^^iâ„¢*?^*" °^ and coins, m^^tof th? Ste^Jl- °^.*;*"' and clipped. It is eLvV " "" defaced been broken puri^^L^ *hat aU have with the vieiTo'S tlJ'^I^^'"^- ^^' we may f .iriy concluSe thL *t**' *g*^' '^^ thvemains cf'^rSveS^th'j* ^^'««^0"« shop. Among the cohL^"' °' '^^^' good preservation. So fa «! ^ycian one in said Mary Jane, "it isn't this "Dick^," ss'^^:Oi;S.^-^-^-^ never lived on a f„„. on." "Oh," said A Georgia man bl^. aneeze. ' I During the first half locations of quarUrZ; ^S Montana. """"og*^ Mr. Freeman, the w collect intoavoiump k;" United States." 'iUT' various magazines. '*« A Minnesota farmer »,ir man who had i un off ^lT^\ dren, and $500 would V.t;'^»4 he might keep the i'S^l During the recent cold r*^. formed across the strait, o?2"»l so firmly as to resist the »» company to blast a chan„ i " for their boats. ^*' »t| The Paru. i^^oro, whi.1, i Prince Napoleon's CM copies that day. 'e^v i!!' 4 the police seized about i "â-  " that were left at the ue^i' The French settle,, ;: ' notched sticks for keepil ,*" niakmg various kind/of ,:.., edges of an octagonal stick *•â-  farmer can reco.d all hi, '» a year. ""' When the books of the Office Savings Bank were firs. ,j the public the Emperor T" H book for himself, S-"'»«' sum, signing his name at tV;; lon^listofparticipatorBiathe takug. "' • The post of Governor-GeneMJ Lorraine will shortly become v recall of Gen. Manteuffel Ti,;' ribbon of the German Govemm, ments, bemg worth $45,000 a palace and various allowances marck's gross ea.oluments in $20,000. â„¢ A trustworthy person from uj the Comte de Chambord pases T shooting pigeons, tatesthattieW caused a great sensation in hiiii The Comte now entertaâ„¢ treji establishing his claims shortly,] poleon's imprudence having, m destroyed all the chances oi'tiitJ isto. The latest novelty in bonaetfJ wash leather. The London IfiJ and Drapers Journal expressesi] the twine trimming which wasli some time ago will be revived toa with. There would not thea bej bad stock. The shapes could ii| clean windows with, and thetri in for tying up parcels. A rejected lover was very mdi Zanseville, Ohio, and his friendil him in an attempt to kill himsetl was taken to revival meetings, iil that religion would comfort hin| couraged theui by becoming a a tive convert but having assurwi salvation, as he thought, he go: a stack, ignited it, and was buineij A number of the California J was asleep when the vote be?aii»| on an important bill, and, hall i the call of his name, he gave mi ate grunt, which tlie Cleik undei recorded as "Yet." He slumkni when he finally awoke, the newsij over the wires to his coustitKeiul had turned traitor to the cause wk been elected to champion. The dangers of the Europeit ment cars have had a fresh ilim ixermany. A couple were twtJ Berlin on their wedding tour. Tm Italian were the sole occupants uij On entering a tunnel the Italian f a pistol and demanded the Geraail There was a desperate struggt il the Cierman wrenched away taep was cut five times with a stiletto. The neighborhood of Cork, iih in a state of panic, owing to tief of rabies among the dogs ijlt'l This has ariten from oneof'liM the Barrymore kennel having i state of madness. After being i time it returned to the Kemiel" number of the utlior dogs then thorities have issued an order i all dogs found at large ami no: i per control will be disposed of i ed within five days, and that;te| will be fined. A movement is o" foot in TesJJJ plish w hat far-seeing men have as an agricultural necessity oi ' It is to put an end to the a farms into large cues. Smaller" in the working abilitj\of the ava^ and more of them.isthereformnH farmers of Harrison county, Tes'l to divide their large plantatioffil farms, and to offer them to wWI on the installment plan, behe'i^l tion will soon convert idle lanas^ able farms and fill up ^^^ ' thrifty taxpayers. A gentleman calls the att«"' London Times to the pecuWjJ London sparrows. He says: passing through the Temple 5 o'clock p.m, would bemucns'" astonishing noise made by the _^ p'ane tree at the corner of "'r just as they are going " filjil t noticed a similar display o""' i tree in Stationers' Hall ^ojj^ know whether raturalists o Jj this peculiarity in London s]^ is certainly a habit which u"^. by their congeners iu the coo J Newspapers IB S"*^ I Xewsp.ipers in consider»"f_, continue to live in Russia â-  prosper in spite of the ii tions that beset their V^^f ..^, that there is a t .tal in ^^\ M of which 197 are published „, burgh and 70 at Mosco*. publications 249 are p^^ la three langiiages-Ru^^, French 1 in two lanf'" German 9 in German, Latin, 2 in Hebrew, 1 ip lish, 1 in Finnish, and 1 m f" are 19 diily newspaper^ ' p^^ si. ' ' newspapers, C jj^j publication«_^'"pj,iif| 4 ID monthly publication i^^^J^M^,] 12 daily " ^-^ monthly largest circulation of any_ 000; the next largest 13-^1 The Price !il3«iU' .^4