Beadle's Dime Novels No. 14 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROMANTIC ISLAND, 53 birds, the rushing of the 1iver, together with the perfume of flowers, made the air dreamy with sweets. They had not gone far into the island before they discover- ed, sheltered in a thicker forest, the fanciful roof of a summer- house. They drew near, admiring the slender pillars and the curious Jattice-work which covered four of its octagon sides, the other four being open to the breezes and the birds; and also the meeting of the lofty branches of the oak-trees above its gilded minaret. Upon entering it, they found oaken sofas placed against each lattice, and a round table standing in the | center, They were just wearied enough to sink contentedly upon these seats. The outside of this pretty pagoda was overrun with tarta- rian honeysuckles, whose sweetness at evening would have been overpowering; but now it was delightful, not only to the people within, but to a swarm of wild bees, that, happy as the bees of Hybla, sang and swarmed without. Rosalie was the first to notice a book lying open upon the table. She took it up and found it to be a yolume of Bry-. ant’s poetry, open at the “Forest Hymn.” “Some one has been here before us,” she said, “some one possessing taste, for there could not be a more appropriate place for the reading of this noble hymn,” and she read aloud, with exquisite emphasis, a few lines; then, carelessly turning the leaves, she came to the name of the owner inscribed onthe ~ blank first page—‘ Olematis Perey’—quite a pretty cognomen.” No one noticed the sudden pallor of Pennon upon hearing the name of the woman he loved, thus unexpectedly spoken, HIe arose and began plucking the honeysuckles from the vine outside, while endeavoring to regain his composure. “ for whom are you binding that oppressively sweet gar- land ” asked Rosalie, following him. “For Lulu,” he answered, throwing the golden wreath about a head as golden. “ There, pretty one, run and see if old Galleon is in sight—I know you are hungry.” “Yes! there he comes, tugging a basket as big as himself,” laughed the little girl, bounding back, a moment after, ‘was the purveyor-general, who followed the party in a craft of his own, having in charge a cargo of dainties fit for fair ladies and brave men to refresh themselves with on an CONIC DOOKS.COM ~~ gz