Sources for Pauline Hopkins’s Hagar’s Daughter: A Story of Southern Caste Prejudice from Lauren Dembowitz, Graduate Student in English, UCLA. She may be reached at email@example.com.
This investigation of Hopkins’s silent borrowing began with a Google phrase search for a reference in Hagar’s Daughter (“CIRCE knew all”) that lacked a referent. This search led to Driscoll’s “Two Women.” In another instance of the novel, Ellis Enson inexplicably calls Hagar “Mignon” (pg. 45), who is Driscoll’s version of Jewel Bowen in “Two Women.” While this research relied on a few different databases, including Hathi Trust and Project Gutenberg, nearly every appropriation documented here can be found by searching Google Books. These searches are not infallible, however, as some instances of a word or phrase will fail to register in a search, particularly if the digital copy of the text is at all degraded in its clarity. Furthermore, Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly was later absorbed by The American Magazine in 1906, and scholars should note that some digitized issues of Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, including those published prior to 1906 are displayed under the title The American Magazine. Indeed, the nature of serial fiction is such that we must track down installments across different issues and even volumes of a single periodical—this was the case with Pierce’s novel A Dark Deed.
Anonymous, “Alixe” in Frank Leslie’s Sunday Magazine, Vol. 12, No. 5, November 1882, 466-73.
*Hopkins uses Driscoll’s passage with minor changes just after Elise Bradford reveals to Sumner the secret of her affair with Benson as well as Aurelia’s octaroon status.
“Yes,” she said softly, “you are cruel; friendships are made to be severed, never utterly broken. We shall meet again, I am sure, and you will then be glad we part friends. How strange it is that lives are touching thus all the time—perhaps helping one another—let us hope so, at least—touching—parting—but not forgotten—not utterly forgotten.”
There was a certain new dignity in her manner, as if the child had suddenly matured to womanhood, but there was a weary, listless tone in her voice as the short sentences came with long pauses in between. […] He pressed her white fingers with his strong, eager hand, but there was something in her touch that made him feel small and contemptible. […] He lifted her cold hand and touched it with his lips. “Good-by, then; someone once told me that meant God bless you; I could not say more if I knew that my words would come true—that our parting would be eternal—Good-bye.”
She looked at him steadily a moment, then her glance fell; a slight tremor passed over her face, and the hand that he had kissed fell to her side.
When he looked back she was still standing in the doorway, a lithe, graceful figure, motionless, with listless hands and bent head, her pale face shaded by her drooping hat. (Anon 470-71)
“Yes,” [Elise Bradford] said softly, “I am your friend, but friendships are short—made to be severed. Still, I am sure we shall meet again. How strange it is that lives are touching thus all the time—perhaps helping one another—let us hope so, at least—touching—parting—but not forgotten—not utterly forgotten.”
There was a certain new dignity in her manner that he had never noticed in the silent stenographer. But there was a weary, listless tone in her voice. He pressed her white fingers with his strong, eager hand, feeling his heart throb with suppressed excitement—the joy of living once more. He lifted her cold hand and touched it with his lips. “Good-by, then, once more; some one once told me that meant ‘God bless you’; I could say no more if I knew that our parting would be eternal which it is not. I want you to know Jewel.” (New par) She looked at him steadily a moment, then her face fell; a slight tremor passed over her face; she was unaccustomed to the chivalrous treatment that men give to women whom they respect. The hand he had kissed fell to her side. As he turned to close the door of the apartment, she was still standing where he had left her, with listless hands and bent head. (Hopkins 162-63)
Joseph Fitzgerald Molloy, Sweet Is Revenge, John A. Taylor & Co. New York: 1891.
* Hopkins uses this passage in the midst of the flurry surrounding Sumner’s trial.
Sweet Is Revenge
…the luncheon bell rang; for no matter how great the griefs that may convulse a household, or how dark the tragedies that may distract its inmates, meals are still served and eaten just as if the hearts of those assembled round the board were neither wrenched nor broken. (Molloy 181)
The dinner bell rang; for no matter what our griefs, or how dark the tragedies which are enacted about us, meals are still served and eaten, just as if the hearts assembled about the board were never wrenched nor broken. (Hopkins 191)
Garry Moss, “The Mystery of the Hearth: A True Story of Official Life in Washington” in Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, Vol. 17, May 1884, 546-51.
* Like Hagar’s Daughter, Moss’s thriller takes place in the nation’s capital, primarily in the office of a corrupt government official. Hopkins makes minimal alterations to Moss’s description of this official’s office.
|“The Mystery of the Hearth”|
There was a certain character in the hangings at the windows, in the carpet and rugs on the floor and in the soft structure and arrangement of the lounges grouped around the spacious room, that gave it more the appearance of a ladies’ boudoir than of an office for the transaction of public business. From the position and style of the wardrobes and other fixtures, one might readily infer that the occupants of the apartment would easily find in it all the conveniences of dining and lodging…It was in the Winter time, and a warm fire was burning in the grate, shedding a glowing radiance on all around… Laying [my papers] open before him on his splendidly covered table, in the midst of almost every conceivable bijouterie of taste and elegance, including charming bottles of eau de cologne, miniature vases of fragrant flowers, tiny ornamented easels of the costliest style, holding pictures of fashionable ladies, he proceeded languidly to glance over the contents of the documents…(Moss 546)
There were rich hangings at the windows, carpets and rugs on the floor, lounges were grouped about the spacious room giving it more the appearance of a boudoir than a public office. The style of the wardrobes ranged about the walls would lead one to infer that all the conveniences for dining or longing [sic] could be easily found within its four walls…A warm fire burned in the grate for there was a chill in the air that furnace heat did not entirely remove, and the large pile of blazing coals shed a glowing radiance of cheerfulness on all around…General Benson sat before his splendidly covered table where cut-glass bottles of eau de cologne gleamed, vases of fragrant flowers charmed the eye, and ornamental easels of costly style held pictures of fashionable ladies. He was looking over some papers which had just been submitted by Cuthbert. (Hopkins 148-9)
* Hopkins incorporates and reorders portions of Moss’s story to set up Benson’s framing of Cuthbert Sumner for Elise Bradford’s murder:
“The Mystery of the Hearth”
Taking me with him to a recess in one of the curtained windows, the chief dropped his voice to a husky whisper, and said:
“Garry, I’ve a favor to ask of you.”
“I shall be most happy to grant it, sir, if in my power to do so,” I replied.
“It is a delicate piece of business, Mr. Moss,” he continued…his voice assuming a very serious tone. “The official relations between us have always been of a co-ordinate character. I wish now to confide in you as a personal friend” (Moss 546)
“Drawing me silently aside behind the full folds of the rich and heavy curtains back of his official table” (Moss 548)
“…you will find some additional documents to be collated” (Moss 549)
“You shall be handsomely compensated…for this extra labor” (Moss 547)
“You may be detained at the house much later tonight than you were last night. Your work will probably carry you to sharp midnight, perhaps a little past…I have given the hall-servant notice of your being in the house by my orders; and as you have the key of that room-door, you can leave quietly, when you are through, without disturbing the family. The old trusty servant will let you out, and see that everything is safely closed up” (Moss 549).
[H]e called Sumner to him in a recess of a curtained window and said:
“Sumner, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“I shall be happy to grant it if it is in my power, General.” […]
“I have intrusted you with a delicate piece of business, Mr. Sumner.” His voice was impressive. “The official relations between us have always been coordinate in character. I am confiding in you now as I would in a personal friend. (Hopkins 149-50)
“…drawing [Sumner] behind the rich folds of the curtains back of the official desk” (Hopkins 150) ; “You will find some additional papers to be collated” (Hopkins 150)
“And, see here, Sumner, you may be detained later to-morrow night than tonight. Your work will probably keep you until sharp midnight, perhaps past. I have given the watchman notice of your being here on my orders. Here is my private entrance key and you can let yourself and Miss Bradford out without trouble. See that everything is safely closed up. You shall be handsomely compensated for your extra labor” (Hopkins 151)
Annie Thomas, “A Last Chance” in Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, Vol. 17, no. May 1884, 622-30.
* This passage appears almost verbatim in Chapter 18 of Hagar’s Daughter when Jewel, like Ella, confronts bitter disappointment to hear that Aurelia, her rival, and Sumner, her erstwhile fiancé, are to be married.
|“A Last Chance”|
But the sting was taken out of this fact when I went back to ‘my own,’ for ‘my own’ received me as if I were a glory to them still […] Ah! children who haven’t needed it, yet believe me that the wound must be mortal that cannot be soothed by parental balm and oil.
“Dear mama,” Jewel cries, “the sting is taken out of all the pain when I remember that no matter what comes my own darling father and mother see no fault in their dear girl.” […] Ah! children who have not needed it, yet believe me that the wound must be mortal that cannot be soothed by parental balm and oil.
Etta Pierce, A Dark Deed in Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, Vol. 17, January-June 1884, no.1, 65-79; no. 3, 321-335; no. 4, 449-463; no. 5, 577-592; no.6, 705-716; vol. 18, no.1, 65-78; no.2, 193-207; no.3, 321-328; no.4 449-452.
* Hopkins not only borrows the context of Tennyson’s quotation from Pierce to capture the glitz of a momentous ball, but also, and more importantly, the language Pierce uses to describe her young heroine. Note that like Pierce, Hopkins uses the word “shimmer” instead of “glimmer” which appears in Tennyson’s Maud.
|A Dark Deed|
From town a special train brought a grand company—the female element all
“In gloss of satin
And shimmer of pearls.”
[Ethel Greylock stood], a flush on her cheek, her yellow hair in wonderful waved masses, pearls clasping her dazzling throat and arms, her pansy-colored eyes like wells of light. (Pierce 584)
The house party was enforced by several gentlemen of political importance and their wives.
“In gloss of satin,
And shimmer of pearls.”
Jewel Bowen stood, a flush on her cheeks, her hair falling in waving masses, pearls clasping her white throat and arms, her large gray eyes like wells of light. (Hopkins 111)
* After their parallel descriptions of Ethel/Jewel, both narratives subsequently describe the ballroom as an overwhelming space from which each fair young beauty, in need of fresh air, is then escorted outdoors by a potential suitor—Sir Gervase in A Dark Deed and General Benson in Hagar’s Daughter.
|A Dark Deed|
The ballroom was a whirl of fair faces and dazzling toilets—the light and heat and perfumes became oppressive. (Pierce 584)
“You are fond of dancing?” said Sir Gervase.
“Yes,” answered Ethel; “the weakness was born with me. Did you not notice,” with a mischievous smile, “that I went through that last waltz uncommonly well?”
“In the stupendous crowd yonder,” he answered, dismally, “it was impossible for me to see you. I have caught only an occasional glimpse of your face the entire evening, but I doubt not that you excel in dancing as—in everything else!” (Pierce 586)
“The ball-room was a whirl of fair faces and dazzling toilets—the light, the heat, the perfume almost oppressive” (Hopkins 119)
“You are fond of dancing?” asked the General, after a silence.
“Yes; that weakness was born with me.”
“In the tremendous crowd, I could not judge. But I can speak from this waltz—you dance like a fairy…” (Hopkins 119)
Fanny Driscoll, “Two Women” in Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, May 1884, 562-7.
* Driscoll lays out the romantic history between June Heatherton and Don Eastern. Hopkins’s relation of Aurelia and Sumner’s history in Chapter 16 of Hagar’s Daughter is a near copy of Driscoll’s passage.
June Heatherton, to whom he had been betrothed a year ago; with whom he had quarreled fiercely over some palpable flirtation on her part; from whom he had parted in bitterness and pain, and yet with a half-relieved feeling in a corner of his heart. […] Six months he had been reckless… Now that it was all over, he knew he had never loved her, and that it was a most fortunate thing that he has found it out in time. […]Her grace, her beauty, her wonderful fascination had thrilled his blood with a rapture that he thought then was Love, but it was only her false twin sister. Love had come to him, indeed, but it was a later guest, and then [Mignon’s] sweet face leaned to him through the shadows, and its purity and tenderness blotted out the warm Summer beauty of June Heatherton from before his vision. (Driscoll 562)
Aurelia Madison and Cuthbert Sumner…had been betrothed; a year ago; had quarreled fiercely over a flirtation on her part and had separated in bitterness and pain; and yet the man was relieved way down in a corner of his heart for he had felt dimly, after the first rapture was over, that he was making a mistake, that she was not the woman to command the respect of his friends…Yet after a fashion she fascinated him. Her grace, her beauty, thrilled his blood with a rapture that he thought then was Love. Love came to him, a later guest, and the purity and tenderness of Jewel’s sweet face blotted out forever the summer splendor of Aurelia Madison’s presence. Now it was all over; he knew he had never loved her, and that he was fortunate to have found it out in time…Since that time [Aurelia] had led a reckless life. (Hopkins 92)
* At Modjeska’s performance of the opera Camille.
[Mignon] was listening earnestly to Modjeska, who interpreted so well a passionate, loving, erring, noble woman’s heart. The high-bred grace, the dainty foreign accent, the naturalness of this actress, held her in thrall, and she never took her eyes from the stage; but as the curtain went down on the second act, she lifted her glass and slowly scanned the house. Suddenly she paused with a heart that throbbed strangely. Directly across from her sat a woman, whom surely she had seen somewhere—a woman with great dusky eyes and golden hair and a brilliant scarlet on her lips, and a fitful flush on her cheeks—a woman in gold satin that fell away from snowy neck and arm on which opals gleamed ominously, with a knot of crimson roses in her hand.
“You recognize her from her picture, I see. She is looking remarkably well, is she not?” nonchalantly.
“She is glorious!” but the tender heart contracted.
The dusk eyes were looking in her direction with a restless, smoldering fire in their depths that pained her to see.
June Landon had glanced over her with a hungry intensity that seemed to search her. She…settled directly on Mignon’s face, studying it intently. The dark eyes, the wistful mouth, the dreaming, calm sweet face.
“There is not another woman in the house like her…She is like a strain of Mozart, a spray of lilies, a cool pool in the heart of a desert. My God! How he looks at her—he never looked at me like that! He respects her, he worships her—” […] She sank back, breathless with misery, and yet, again and again she found herself gazing intently at Mignon.
She saw Mignon look up with unspoken thanks, lifting her eyes with such devotion and love and faith in them; she saw him look down eagerly, with truest, tenderest love and anxiety; and then she waiter no longer, but rose impatiently, with rage and hatred in her heart.
Modjeska was to interpret the heart-breaking story of “Camille.”… Jewel was listening earnestly to Modjeska’s words; the grand rendering of the life story of a passionate, loving, erring, noble woman’s heart touched her deeply. The high-bred grace, the dainty foreign accent, the naturalness of the actress, held her in thrall and she did not take her eyes from the stage. As the curtain went down on the second act she lifted her glass and slowly scanned the house. Suddenly she paused with a heart that throbbed strangely. Directly across from her sat a woman—young in years but with a mature air of a woman of the world. ‘Surely,’ thought Jewel, ‘I know that face.’ The girl had a woman’s voluptuous beauty with great dusky eyes and wonderful red-gold hair. Her dress of moss green satin and gold fell away from snowy neck and arm on which diamonds gleamed.
“It is Miss Madison,” he replied, lifting his glass nonchalantly. “I did not know she was in Washington. I have not seen her for three years. Looking remarkably well, is she not?”
“She is glorious!”
Jewel felt her heart contract as the dusky eyes followed her movements with a restless, smouldering fire in their depths that pained her to see.
Amelia Madison watched the box opposite with hungry intensity. She was studying Jewel’s face mentally saying: “There is not another woman in the house like her. She is like a strain of Mozart, a spray of lilies. My God! How he looks at her—he never looked at me like that! He respects her, he worships her—” —” […] She sank back in breathless misery.
Now she saw Jewel lifted her eyes to his with such devotion, and love and faith in them; she saw him look down eagerly, with truest, tenderest love… She could bear it no longer, but rose impatiently, with rage and hatred in her heart. (Hopkins 93)
* Driscoll describes the budding (if ill-fated) friendship between Mignon and June. Hopkins describes the same between Jewel and Aurelia in Hagar’s Daughter.
How did it happen? Circe alone knew. But after that these two were often together.
“Such a lovely morning, little Mignon! You must come for a drive with me.” Or, “I shall be alone to-day; you must come and make the hours bright for me.” (Driscoll 566)
Surnames were dropped from that night. How did it happen? CIRCE alone knew. But after that these two were much together.
“Such a lovely morning, Jewel! You must come for a turn with me.” Or, “I shall be alone all day; do come and make the hours bright for me.” (Hopkins 110-11)
* This scene of betrayal marks the climax of “Two Women” and begins when June makes her final appeal, which Don rejects, to resume their love affair. This scene of betrayal in Hagar’s Daughter is a near verbatim copy of Driscoll.
[June] threw herself down in a great chair, with a sad languor that would have touched any heart but his. They talked a little while, indifferently, of a thousand things, and then he arose to go. […]
But with a low and exceedingly bitter cry she stood up.
“Must we part like this? Oh, my God! I cannot bear it! Have you no mercy, no pity?”
The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she held out her hand imploringly.
With deepest pity and sympathy, he took her hands in his.
“June, you will forget. Believe me, dear, you will forget all this in a very little while. What good would my love do you now? It could bring you nothing but sorrow. We must never meet again. I hope—I know you will be very happy yet. Good-by. God be with you, dear.”
He bent down and touched the trembling hands with his lips, feeling wretchedly sorry for this beautiful, undisciplined woman in her misery.
But she flung her arms about his throat, and clung to him in a very abandonment of grief and parting, sobbing hysterically, with low, sharp moans that cut him to the heart.
“June, dear child, do not weep so. You will be ill. It is torture to hear you.”
She faltered and shivered, and he put his arms about her, and kissed her on her fair brow once, twice. Her arms were about his throat, the beautiful, quivering, wet face pressed close against his cheek.
A deep sigh startled him. He lifted his head.
Standing in the arch between the boudoir and the library, with the portiere dropping behind her, pallid as a ghost, with frightened woeful eyes and despair in every feature, stood Mignon.
With a loud exclamation, with rage and impatience and disgust, he shook the exquisite form from his bosom and strode across the room. (Driscoll 566-67)
[Aurelia] sat there in sad languor that would have touched any heart but his. They talked a moment of indifferent subjects, then he arose and offered his arm with a motion that indicated a return to the ball-room. But with a low and exceedingly bitter cry she stood up.
“Must we part like this? My God! I cannot bear it! Have you no mercy, no
The tears were streaming down her cheeks, she held out her hands imploringly.
With deeper sympathy and pity he took them in his.
“Aurelia, you will forget. Believe me, dear, you will forget all this in a very little while. What good would my love do you now. It could bring you nothing but sorrow. We must forget each other. I hope—I know you will be happy yet. God be with you, dear girl.” He bent down and pressed his lips to her trembling hands, feeling himself a wretch for bringing sorrow to this beautiful woman who loved him so.
But she flung her arms about him, and clung to him in desperation and the abandonment of grief, sobbing hysterically, with low, quivering moans, that cut him to the heart.
“Aurelia, do not weep so. It is torture for me to hear you.”
“I hope I may die! Oh, if only I could!” she sobbed faltering and shivering, and clinging to him, and he put his arms about her and kissed twice on the brow. Her lovely wet face was pressed close against his cheek.
A deep sigh startled him. He lifted his head. Standing in the doorway of the curtained recess, pallid as a ghost, all the graceful beauty gone from her wan face, with frightened woeful eyes and despair in every feature, stood Jewel. With a loud exclamation, with rage and impatience and disgust, he shook the exquisite form from his bosom. (Hopkins 123-4)
* The illustration accompanying Driscoll’s scene of betrayal and Colored American Magazine staff artist Alexander Skeete’s rendering of this same scene in Hagar’s Daughter.
Hopkins (CAM, July 1901, 164)
* Mignon has a bad feeling about June. Hopkins uses this passage to express Hagar/Mrs. Bowen’s suspicions about Aurelia:
And, although Mignon felt a vague dread and dislike, it was so intangible, and the beautiful voice and face and manner so enchanting, that she could not resist, and felt ashamed of her distrust and fears. (Driscoll 566)
She was surprised and puzzled at the vague feeling of distrust and dislike that personal contact with her young guest brought her. It was intangible. She shook it off, however, the beautiful face and voice were so enchanting that she could not resist them, and felt ashamed of her distrust. (Hopkins 107)
* Driscoll’s characterization of June and Mignon (through Don Eastern’s eyes). Hopkins’s characterization of Aurelia and Jewel.
June was a magnificent cactus-blossom, scarlet and gold, and subtle; Mignon was a fair day-lily, pallid and fragrant and pensive.
And men have such an unfortunate weakness for tropical flowers, they cannot pass them by carelessly or unconsciously, even though they have already plucked the lily and laid the frail petals above their hearts. The white flower brought out all the beauty of Don Eastern’s soul, its chivalry and tenderness, its belief in the good and true, its higher impulses and aspirations; but he could not ignore the scarlet brilliant cactus-bud; it caused his blood to flow faster, it gave a new zest to living—for an hour.
Mignon was his saint, his nun, his good angel, and he loved her truly, with all the high love a man of the world can ever know. He reverenced her for her womanly goodness and truth; he trusted her as he never supposed he could trust anyone. She rested and soothed him unspeakably.
And little Mignon loved him with a strange power and intensity that was the very breath of her life to her. (Driscoll 563)
Aurelia was a gorgeous tropical flower; Jewel, a fair fragrant lily. Men have such an unfortunate weakness for tropical blooms, they cannot pass them by carelessly, even though a lily lies above their hearts. Cuthbert could not ignore this splendid tropical flower; it caused his blood to flow faster, it gave new zest to living—for an hour. Jewel was his saint, his good angel; and he loved her truly with all the high love a man of the world can ever know. He trusted her for her womanly goodness and truth. And Jewel returned his love with an intensity that was her very life. (Hopkins 103)
* June entreats Don (by letter) to come visit her. Aurelia does the same with Sumner:
“Come just once more, for the sake of the old days, when no other woman was dearer than I” –June” (Driscoll 566)
“May we not be friends for the sake of the old days, when no other woman was dearer than I? Come to me just once.” –Aurelia”
* Eastern receives and responds to a request from June to visit her. Sumner receives and responds to a request from Aurelia to visit her:
Don Eastern’s brow was knit, and he muttered a very impatient imprecation under his breath, as he stood studying the telegram which had just been put in his hand. “I thought that was all over and done with. Must we go through with it again, I wonder?”…Glancing hurriedly through the mail on his desk, he then picked up, from the midst of commonplace, practical, business-like looking letters, a slim, satiny envelope of palest pink, with a faint perfume clinging to it. His whole face softened and his hand shook for a moment as he eagerly opened, and read the few lines. “My little Mignon!” he said gently. (Driscoll 562)
Sumner’s brow was knit as he scanned the sheet of ivory paper in his hand, with its emblazoned monogram. He muttered an imprecation…”I thought that was all over and done with,” he muttered to himself. “What is the use of going through with it all again?”…Then softer thoughts came to him as he took from a pile of commonplace, business letters on his desk, a slim satiny envelope. It was from Jewel. He opened it and read the few lines it contained, reminding him of an appointment that he had with her for the evening. “My little Blossom!” he said gently. (Hopkins 101-102)
* Hopkins imports Driscoll’s narrative commentary on the nature of men.
And certainly Don Eastern was not the kind of man to let the memory of a little Mignon prevent him from holding a beautiful, yielding form closely in his arms, and returning clinging kisses with interest, when such a rare opportunity offered.
I question if there are many men that would. (Driscoll 562)
Cuthbert Sumner (blind and foolish) was not the kind of man to let the memory of little Blossom prevent him from holding a beautiful, yielding form closely clasped in his arms, and returning clinging kisses with interest when such a rare opportunity offered.
I question if there are many men that would. (Hopkins 102)
* The death of Driscoll’s Mignon and Hopkins’s Jewel.
Suddenly, with a great cry, [Eastern] stood still before a fair, slender, marble shaft.
MIGNON: AGED 19.
‘Blessed are the pure in heart.’
There was only one Mignon in the world. He fell down with his face upon her grave. She had died in Rome of the fever.
Two years later, June…was Mrs. Don Eastern.
Suddenly with a great cry he stood before a fair, slender shaft of polished cream-white marble,
Jewel, aged 21.
‘Not my will, but Thine be done!’
He fell down with his face upon her grave. She had died of Roman fever…
Appendix: Bibliography of Hopkins’s Sources in Hagar’s Daughter
“Alixe.” Frank Leslie’s Sunday Magazine Nov. 1882: 466–73.
Driscoll, Fanny. “Two Women.” Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly May 1884: 562+.
—. “Two Women.” Frank Leslie’s Pleasant Hours Aug. 1884: 20-26.
Molloy, Joseph Fitzgerald. Sweet Is Revenge. New York, 1891.
Moss, Garry. “The Mystery of the Hearth: A True Story of Official Life in Washington.”
Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly May 1884: 546–551.
Pierce, Etta W. “A Dark Deed.” Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly Jan. 1884: 65+; Mar. 1884:
321+; Apr.1884: 449+; May 1884: 577+; June 1884: 705+; July 1884: 65+; Aug. 1884:
193+; Sep. 1884: 321+; Oct. 1884: 449-452.
Thomas, Annie. “A Last Chance.” Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly May 1884: 622+.