rst of October of that year, old Mrs. Winterose
and her eldest daughter Libby received an order to remove from their
cottage and take up their residence with Miss Tabby at Black Hall.

The next spring, Mr. and Mrs. Horace Blondelle removed to the "Dubarry
Hotel," at the "Dubarry White Sulphur Springs," as the place was now
christened, and there they commenced preparations for the summer
campaign.

Mr. Horace Blondelle, was much too "sharp" not to understand the
importance of advertising. He advertised very largely in the newspapers,
and he also employed agents to distribute beautiful little illustrated
books, descriptive of the various attractions of the "Dubarry White
Sulphur Springs," the salubrious and delightful climate, the sublime and
beautiful scenery, the home comforts of the hotel, and the healing
powers of the water.

All these were so successfully set forth that even in this first season
the house was so well filled with guests that the proprietor determined
that, before another season should roll around, he would build a hundred
or so of cottages to accommodate the great accession of visitors he had
every reason to expect.

Another brisk season of work blessed the poor people of the place. And
by the next summer a hundred and fifty white cottages were here and
there on the rocks, in the woods, by the streams, or in the glens around
the great hotel; and the "Dubarry White Sulphur Springs" grew to look
like a thriving village on the mountains.

The profits justified the expenditures; that second summer the place was
crowded with visitors; and the lonely and quiet neighborhood of the
Black Valley became, for the time, as populous and as noisy as is now
Niagara or Newport.

In fact, from the advent of Mr. Horace Blondelle, and the inauguration
of the "Dubarry White Sulphur Springs," the whole character of the place
was changed.

All summer, from the first of June to the first of September, it would
be a scene of fashion, gayety, confusion, and excitement.

But all the winter, from the first of October until the first of June,
it is happily true that it would return to its aboriginal solitude and
stillness.

Mr. Horace Blondelle was making money very fast indeed.

The life suited him. Many people called him a gambler and a blackleg,
and said that he fleeced his guests in more ways than one.

The haughtiest among the old aristocratic families cut him, not because
he was a gambler--for, oh dear! it to