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Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue

Creator: Ashton, Warren T.
Translator: -
Contributor: -
Editor: -


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who, in the illness of his brother, had managed all his business, immediately discovered the forgery. Without disputing its genuineness, he ascertained who had presented it, and traced the deed to the attorney, and thus obtained a hold upon him which was peculiarly favorable to the execution of his great purpose. "You see I have not laid myself open to your fire without fortifying my position," said Jaspar, enjoying, with hearty relish, the discomfiture of the lawyer. "Now, no more of _honor_ to me. I have kept your secret for my own interest, and now you will keep mine from the same motive." "But I _dare_ not do this thing," replied Maxwell, keenly sensitive to the weakness of his position; "I lack the ability." "You have signed the colonel's name once very well; perhaps you can do it again," sneered Jaspar, who had no mercy for an unwilling servant. "It will not be for your interest or mine that I should do it," returned Maxwell, determined, if possible, to avoid committing himself. "Why not?" said Jaspar. "My frequent visits to Bellevue would subject me to suspicion. I am known. Another would not be suspected. If I clear myself, I shall clear you at the same time. I can procure a person who will accomplish all in
Baby Chatterbox

THE NEW BABY. A new little baby came down from the sky-- Came down from the sky in the night. A soft little baby, with violet eyes, Shining, and pure, and white. But how did the little new baby get Down here from the depths of the sky? She couldn't have come alone, you know, For she's much too young to fly. Oh! the angels carried her down in their arms From the far-away, beautiful blue; Brought her down from the arms of God, A present to me and to you. So, you see, we must kiss the baby, And give her a lot of love, That she may not need the angels
safety." "Think you I will trust another man with the possession of the secret?" "I shall compromise my own safety by writing the will, as you propose." "True,--who is this person?" "His name is--" and Maxwell hesitated; then a severe fit of coughing apparently prevented his uttering the name--"his name is Antoine De Guy." "Do I know him?" "You do, I think,--a kind of _street_ lawyer,--you must have met him at the Exchange." "What looking man is he?" "About fifty years of age," replied Maxwell, more thoughtful than the simple description of a person would seem to require,--"rather corpulent, black hair and whiskers, intermixed with gray,--dresses old-fashioned, and always looks rusty." "I do not remember him,--De Guy--De Guy," said Jaspar, musing; "no, I do not know him. Are you confident he can be trusted?"