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The Current Literature Publishing Company 52 Lafayette place, New York

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During the coming year the Editor of Short Stories" wishes to publish a series of tales relating to the various races that go to make up the American nation, but who still retain, in some measure, the language and customs of their native lands.

In order to obtain such stories, a prize of $25.00 will be paid to successful competitors for each accepted manuscript of from 4,000 to 6,000 words. It is desirable that these tales should be strongly characteristic of the people they describe, and the French, German, Italian, Spanish and Swedish quarters of the larger cities, and the Hungarian mining colonies are suggested as promising fields for the desired material.

RULES.

All Competitors must cut out the " Competitor's Stamp" printed in the upper corner of this page and affix it to their MS.

Address all communications to the editor of "Short Stories."

All MSS. shall be legibly written and original.

They shall be either upon the topic or in the vein indicated in these announcements except when the subject is left to the discretion of competitors.

No MS. will be considered eligible for any but the prize marked upon it.
Receipt of MSS. will be acknowledged if postal card is inclosed for the purpose.
Every care will be taken of MSS., but no responsibility will be assumed in case of loss.
No MS. will be returned unless an envelope properly stamped and addressed to the
author accompanies it.

Postage on MSS. must be prepaid in full or the shortage will be deducted from stamps inclosed.

The editor cannot engage in any correspondence regarding the merit of MSS. submitted.

The Current Literature Publishing Co.,

52 and 54 LAFAYETTE PLACE, NEW YORK.

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THE GOLDEN KEY*

BY CATULLE MENDES

One day, as I was wandering idly about in the Palace of Dreams, I found a little key of gold.

Oho! a treasure-trove, thought I.

Then I was sure the key would open the door of some sweet, mysterious happiness to my empty heart, to my longing soul.

I tried it, too, at all the portals which remained closed to me. At that of Wealth, of Fame, of Love

In vain.

One day a passer-by, penetrated with pity for me, exclaimed: "Poor youth, your key is quite useless to you. You were born too late. For look you, it is the key of a woman's heart, dead a thousand years ago."

However, I still keep my key-the pretty, little, useless toy which I found one day whilst wandering about in the Palace of Dreams.

* Translated by Emma M. Phelps, from the French, for Short Stories.

Illustrations by Helen M. Armstrong -Copyrighted.

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