Beadle's Dime Novels No. 127: Bald Eagle — page 75: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE VISIT. ~ Y7 be referred to some internal consciousness, rather than to any external necessity. Accordingly, she procured a delicate basket lined with flan- nel and placed therein several half-grown white bantams, so diminutive in size that they resembled pretty birds rather than barndoor fowl. Armed with her little gift, the fair girl, with trim bodice and silken skirt looped at the side, made her way to “The Cedars,” for thus was Called the Montagnie mansion. Blanche was seated at an embroidery frame, near the window, busy in adjusting the shades of floss and silken skein, one small foot. just visible upon a cushion, and her head bent over her work. The day was one of those lovely days of October Which June can hardly rival in balmy sweetness. The lattice opened to the floor, leaving the’ rich carpet and high-backed Chairs in full view from the honeysuckled columns of the piazza or “stoop,” as it was Called in that day; while, with- in, a huge, crackling, hickory fire blazed behind hand-irons burnished with almost golden splendor. <A beautiful boy was Studying by a low table, and nearly in the center of the room, in her high-backed, velvet chair, sat Madam Montagnie, read- ing one of those old, ponderous, black-letter tomes, common - at the period of our story in all families of any pretension, but now only to be found on the shelves of the antiquary. She was clad in folds of heavy black silk, which swept upon the carpet, and a plain widow’s cap surmounted her still smooth and exquisitely outlined forehead. It was a fair picture of lights and shades which the eye of Miss De Witt took in at a glance; too quiet, too somber in some of its parts, but these her bright, girlish heart rejected, and she entered the room with a pretty swing and toss, and the two girls were at once in each other’s arms, Madam Montagnie extended her hand courteously, but, if the truth must be told, she did not half like the easy coquetry of Katrina, and her welcome was more stately than hearty. Nothing daunted, the little beauty went to the side of the lady and gently kissed her smooth cheek, and said, also, with perfect naiveté, “Ah, madam, you do not much like naughty, frivolous Katrina, but time will work wonders for her. I am longing 80 to get old and staid.” comicbooks.conn