remarked, with a sly glance at the face of the young girl. ' “_\'es,” responded Delia, with an air of iudiil'ei‘ence which she was far from feeling , for Sinclair Paxton was a great favorite of ' ~ hers. “ ’l’ears to me if I had been you I would have gone and let him in myself,” the hired girl con- tinued. “ Why so, Mary Ann?” asked Delia, quietly but there was a little red spot burning in each chel'ko “ For a chance to have had a little quiet chat with him.” ” Why, Mary Aim l" and the daughter of the house blushed to her temples; “ why should I wish to chat with him 9” “I thought girls tillers liked to see their fel— lers,” Mary Ann replied, slyly, enjoying Delia’s confusion. “ But he isn’t my fellow,” Delia protested. “ Isn’t your feller?” l‘ N0.” “ Comes here pretty often.” “ But he comes to see father on business.” “ And not to see you?” “ No, of course not.” “Well, folks think that he comes here arter you. Lordy, Delia, I’ve heard a dozen say, What a nice match Delia Embden and Sinclair Paxton Will make.” I “ I should think that folks might find some- thing better to do than to talk about any such thing, particularly when there isn’t a word of ,9 gruth in it!” Delia declared, with a flushed ‘ ace. . “Oh, folks will talk, you know, Delia, and when they talk they must say something. Why, do you know I really thought that you and Mr. Paxton were engaged f” “ IVhy, Mary Ann I” H " Well, [really did; he‘s been here so much , lately.” 3 ‘ “ It is because father has a great deal of busi- ness to transact with him, but he never comes to see me; I’ve walked down the street with him two or three times, but it was all acci- dent; we both happened to go out at the same if r \ time.” f‘ Well, now, do tell 2" Mary Ann exclaimed. , ‘ allied; I’m glad that he ain’t your beau for one it n . “ \ ’hy, what is that?” asked Delia, in aston- ishment. “ ’Cos he’s got another girl,” whispered Mary Ann, mysteriously. The flush faded from Delia’s cheeks, and a spiteful look came into her eyes. Although she had denied that Sinclair was her lover, yet it was plain that Mary Ann’s intelligence was not calculated to give her pleasure. “ How do you know he has, Mary Ann?" she asked, with an effort to appear unconcerned. “ 0h, folks know all about it now,” Mary Ann said, With an air of satisfaction. “ They were out walking together last night. I guess the old deacon would have stared if he could have seen ’em.” “ What is the girl’s name ?" “ One of the mill-hands—same mill that Sin Paxton is treasurer of; her name is Grame—- Lydia Grame.” “Oh, yes, I know her,” Delia said, quickly; “ that is, I don’t mean that I really know her, but I know who she is. She hasn’t been here very long.” “ No, she came last winter; she’s a dreadful proud, stuck-up thing; acts as if she thought that she was better than other people,” Mary Ann said, with a toss of the head. “ She is very pretty,” Delia observed, thought- full . “{Vell, that’s jest as people think," the hired girl added, a little contemptiiously. “ She isn’t my style of beaut .” ‘And is Mr. ’uxton really in love with her?” “ You ought to have jest seen ’em walking to— gether last night l“ the girl protested. “ I took one look at them and that satisfied me. I think it’s a shame that some one don’t tell his father. He ou ht to know it.” “ y, she may he a very good girl, Mary Ann,” Delia suggested, but there was a tinge of 3 its in her tone. ” es, she maybe, and then a ain, she may not be. There isn’t anybody in iddeford that knows anything about her, who she is, where she comes from. or who she belongs to. Why, she may have a dozen husbands, for all anybody knows her.” “ I don’t see how the deacon could stop it, even if he knew it,” Delia said, thou htfully. “ He’d find a way! Deacon dmund Paxton s knows more than all the rest of Biddeford put together. I only wish he knew all about é": 1t ’ 2,. PI. ’1 vfilimr-e . ~s....'£:.~i‘:a .5: r , g‘km ._. . ,- h ..A _ Ask us- a . .—_r Delia did not reply, and the conversation turned upon other subjects. The seed was planted, thou’zh, in fruitful soil. (10 be continued—commenced in No. 440.) # Amazons ojjhe Border. BY AN ARMY OFFICER’S DAUGHTER. ; . GERALDINE, THE GIRL SPORT. WE were seated around the camp-fire one night telling stories, or spinning yarns, as the sailors say—for the ladies of the fort, Wives, daughters, and sweethearts, I may as well con- \ fess, of the gallant soldiers, had been allowed to I ‘ go on an expedition into the Yellowstone to see 7 the wondrous natural beauties of that region—I say we were telling stories around the camp-fire when our conversation turned up0n a strange character we had seen that day when halting for the noonday rest. _ _ She, for it was a woman, had ridden into camp, and was alone. She was well-mounted, rode superbly, was dressed in buckskin bodice, short skirt and leg- gins, wore a broad gray sombrero With a black plume, and was thoroughly armed. - “ It is the Girl Sport.” _ Such was the univeral remark of the soldiers ' upon seeing her, and we watched her With a strange interest as she refilled .her haversack with provisions, the want of which had caused her to seek us. ' ' , Then she rode away, declging my father 3 very pressing invitation to 30 us. “ Who is she?” _ That was the question of all the ladies. “ Is she not a beauty?” the young officers asked. I “ Yes,” for we had to admit it. . " Young, not over twenty.” they said. “ Yes,” for we were compelled to acknowledge that too. \ “ But who is she?" “ A gambler, a girl sport.” With that explanation we had to be content until the night, and then around the camp-fire we had her story from the lips of the adjutant, who had met her often. ' ” “ She is known as Geraldine, the Girl Sport, he be an. “Si-ie lives in a small ranch on the Sweet- water, and her only companions are an old negro and negress, who are as dumb as oysters regarding their young mistress, though I know large sums have been offered them. to tell of her past, and her strange motive in livmg the lonely life she does, when she is one to shine in metro— politan society, as she is beautiful and well i cated. e( H She has a ranch, a few hundred cattle, half a hundred ponies, and amuses herself in hunt- ing, and, as you saw to-dav, has come alone thus far from her home, Which I Visited once, and found a perfect fort for strength, and really most comfortable. “ Once, some Cheyennes ran off some of her cattle, and she followed them alone, killed three of the five, with her splendid repeating-rifle, put the two others to flight, and drove back her art . ' _ pr‘o‘pOn {mother occasion two h0r86~tblev°5 made a raid on her, and she gave chase, for they drove off a score of her best ponies. “ She came up with them at night, killed one, as the two sat smoking by the camp—fire, took the other prisoner, and bringing him to the fort turned him over to my tender mercies, with the request that I would hang him. “ But she has one very bad habit, and that is gambling. I have frequently seen her play in the saloons of the frontier towns, and always with Wonderful nerve and luck. “ She seems never to care whether she wins or loses, as far as her manner goes, and is said to have a handsome sum laid up from her win- mugs. “ More about the young lady I cannot tell you, ladies.” .This much, however, greatly excited our cu- riosity in the strange Girl Sport, and when we got back from our Yellowstone expedition, I asked regarding her. To my surprise I learned that she had left her ranch, sold out her cattle and ponies, and, with her two negro companions, had gone no one knew where. But before her departure there had been a tragedy, for one night a stranger had come to the Post, and was gambling and winning heavi- ly, when in walked a youth and challenged him to lay with him. he stranger supposed that he was really playing with a young man, for the hat was pulled down over his face, and the dress was that of a man: but the “ natives” knew that it was Geraldine, the Girl Sport, as, when she gambled, she always came to the saloon dressed in coat and breeches. The Girl Sport won steadily, and at last her opponent accused her of cheating, and was told to take back his words, or face her in mortal combat. Still believing her a young man, he chose the alternative, and the two took stands across the saloon, the Girl Sport forbidding any one to tell her sex. At the word both fired together, the girl turn— ing half round as a bullet plumped through her shoulder, while she fired with truer aim, and her adversary fell. Walking up to him, and seeing that he was mortally wounded, she said, calmly: “ Luke Trevor, you won my father’s fortune, and caused him to take his life, and then you married my mother, and, I believe, poisoned her, while you treated me, your step-child, as though I was a slave. “ I left your home and fled here, with my faithful servants, and here your evil destiny has brought you, and now I shall return, claim my own, and not let your death at my hands worry me.” The man uttered no word, they said, and soon died, and a few days after she left her ranch; but her romance did not wholly end there, as, two years after, my father and myself visited the adjutant in Missouri, and we found that his bride was none other than Geraldine, the Girl Sport. THE STORM. A SONNE’Y. BY HARRY M. MEAD. ’Midst crashing trees the lowing. shrieking wind, Sent by some unseen power of awful might And mien, with seeming keenness, seeming sight, A space to throw its force it tries to find. The dleepdblack clouds with Sun’s bright rays are me By Nature‘s hand which love their task: the blight Of Heaven is on each crag, which, from its height, Is cowering before its Maker’s hand. With mighty roar and fury uncontrolled By love or hate— like to a heavy blade ’ Whpstladsharpened edge is bright, the storm so )0 Then comes in its grandeur; the lightnings fade Before it; then fall Heaven’s own tears like gold Upon the parched meadow, hill and glade. [All Dramatic Rights Reserved.) T H E tonspiraior Detective; 9 Prince Monte Cristo in New York. The Story of the “Magnificent Mys- tery,” and the Romance of the Fight for the Clayburn Millions. BY J. C. COVVDRICK, AUTHOR or “ SHERIFF STILLWOOD,” “ SHADOW- ING A SHADOW,” “ GILBERT OF GOTHAM,” “ DUKE DANIELS,” “ PRINCE PAUL,” “ CIBUTA JOHN,” “BROADWAY BILLY ” NOVELS, ETC., ETC. CHAPTER XXI. EMILY WOOLRUFF’s DANGER. SIGNOR VANZINI was both surprised and alarmed. How came this stranger to know so much of his private business? “V’at—a do you mean-a?” he demanded. “ I know not-a v’at you talk about. Eet ees to me incomprehensible.” “ I know better than that,” disputed Sharpe. “ I know that you want to get hold of. that irl and marry her, and train her v01ce. X on needn’t deny it.” “ Eet ees mystery to me that-a I do not under- stand,” the Italian still beat about. “ You must-a be mistaken in ze man. I am not ze man that-a you take me to be. You hafe mis- taken-a me.” . _ “ No, sir; no mistake about it,” perSIsted Sharpe. “ I take you to be Signor Vanzmi, as I said. I know you well enough. And you want to get that girl into your hands. Why, I heard you say so only a few minutes ago. Now I am just the man who can help you, if you Will ay me for it.” _ “ ’Shh l” the Italian cautioned; “ do not-a talk so loud. Como with-a. me, and I will-a hear v’at you hafe to say to me.” . V . “ I thought you woul ,” said Sharpe, grin- ning. ' The Italian led the way, and no more was said till they were seated in a not highly respectable n. ' 88Illiowas a saloon kept by Italians, and Signor Vanzini seemed to be quite at home there. He led the way to a reserved table, givmg an order ' his lan ua e. .1 nSharpegsat gdown with him, and in a moment wine was set before them, to which vanzmi iii- vited him I'll help himself, an inv1tation which Sharpe immediately took_advantage of. ” “ Now,” the Italian said, “ you may-a talk. “ Well, what do you think of Wh'lt I have said ?" asked Sharpe. “ I must-a ask who you are, before I tell-a you too much,” was the guarded response. “ My name is Gillam, then, 'lf you mpst know,” the rascally detective informed. ‘ I am a sport about town.” “ And-a why you help-a me to carry off the pretty signerina, if that-a was what I should-a desire? That-a would be bad-a work.” “ Yes, I know it would, but it would be as easy as rolling off a log. 1 hateiold Barry, and if I could help you to get possessmn of the girl I would gladly do it. See?” “ Yes, yes; I see-a. v’at you-a mean. But how do I kn0w-a I could trust you, if that-a was v’at I should-a desire? Maybe you would fool-a me, and I would-a not get ze pretty Signorina after all. And maybe you would~a ask too mone s.’ ml‘l‘clt‘lo, I wgn’t fool you, that I swear,” Sharpe vowed. “ And as to wanting too much money, I’ll help you for twenty dollars.” ' “ Twenty dollars! I vould-p. give you feefty. if you help-a me—that—a ees, if that-a wasv at I should-a desire; I hate not said so.” “ Oh, drop that!” cried Sharpe. your little game.” ' “ But-a, could I trust you 5” “ You will have to, old fellow, that’s all.” “ I ha fe to trust-a you! I do not-a compre- hensible you, Mistare Gillam.” “ \Vell, then, I’ll try and talk so that you can comprehensibility me,” the rascally detective said, smiling. “ You have got to let me help you, or I’ll put the police on your track.” The Italian looked more alarmed than he had at first. “ You would—a do that?” he gasped. “ Of course I would, and I will,t0o, unless you engage me.” “Eet ees more than I can-a comprehensible. Eef I pay you, you will-a help-a me; not pay you, then-a you be against me.” “ Bet your life on it. I have got an iron in the fire now, you see. I hate old Burry, as I said, and I have been wanting just some such chance to get at the girl. I will help you to carry her off and marry her.” “ I will-a give you feefty dollars—that—a ees, if that—a was v’at—” “ Oh, takeadrop to yourself on that, will you? I know that is your game, and you know I know it. Put up your fifty dollars, and I’m your man.” “ And-a you will not-a geeve me away i” “ Rest easy on that, sir.” “But you will-a be true to me eef I pay-a you?" “ Exactly so.” “ Ver’ well, I geeve you ze feefty dollar, and you help-a me.” i “ That is business. Give me the money, and we'll lay the plans. Or, you can pay me after the work is done, just as you please.” , “ Ahl now I can—a comprehensible that-a you are an honorable man. I will-a take you to help-a me, and-a. I pay you ‘ze twentyfife dollar now; ze remaindaire when-a ze work ees done.” “That suits me exactly !” exclaimed Sharpe. The villainous Italian counted out the sum and passed it over. “Now,” he inquired, “how s‘ll we proceed with—a ze great-a work that ees to be done?” “That is for you to say, first,” responded Sharpe. “ What plans have you got in mind for carrying out your scheme?” “I have-a none. I have-a been trying to think-a how it might—a be done, but eet ees a puzzle incomprehensibilityable to-a me. W hat-a want ees to marry 20 little lady, and get her away to Italy." “ Exactly. I see. New nothing will be easier than that, if we put our minds to it. There may be a little expense, but you can stand that, you know. First, we must steal the girl, or lure her away, and get her into our hands. Then she must marry you whether she will or not.” “ Ah! but-a ze police 1” “ We don’t care a fig for the police.” “I thought-a if I could-a make ze ladyglofe me— You laugh!” “ You wouldn’t accomplish anything that way in a thousand years, with her. She must be made to marry you. That will be the first busi- ness, and after that the rest will be easy enough.” “ But tell-a me how eet ees to be-a done?” “ You want me to plot it for you, eh?" “ That-a ees v’at 1 would-a like.” “Well, let’s see what I can do in that line. But, by the way, have you any place where the girl could be taken to and held prisoner?” “Yes, yesl I can have a room at-a my lodg— ing, and-a ze woman she do what I tell-a her. She respect-a me, as I am ze Count Vanzini. I pay her well, and ze lady she not get away.” “Good enough. That is one oint settled. Now, how does this plan suit? 6 will go to her house some afternoon—not you and I, of course, but some one who will act for us. Our man will go in a cab, and in all haste. He will tell the girl that her grandfather is dying, and must see her immediately. Not a second to be lost. The cab will take her. And a lot more like that. See?” “ Good-a, good al” “ I think it will work. She’s smarter than I take her to be if she don’t fall into the trap. She’ll get into the cab, and the door will be locked upon her. Then it will be an easy mat- ter to take her to your place, Where we can be ready to receive her. I can do it without any mishap, I think.” “Eet ees good-a, good-a!” the Italian cried. “ But eet ees ver’ dangerous. Suppose 26 police interfere, eet ees incomprehen—--” “ But the police won‘t interfere,” assured Sharpe. “ We will take care of that part of it as well as we can, and you can trust me for the rest. If they should, we will lie to them and say the girl is your daughter, or your wife—— better still. You Italians marry your girls pretty young, you know.” “ Yes, yes, that-a will be good—a.” “ And then the rest of it will be simple enough. If you can make her marry you legally, all right. If not, we can get up a mock-marriage, and you 'can claim her any- how. Then you will take passage on some steamer for yoursalf and wife, and you will have her in Italy before you know it. Once there, you can no doubt get along just as you want to. Now, how does that strike you, all around?” “ Eet ees grand-a, grand-a !” the rascal cried, rubbing his hands together. “ Well, then, if it suits you, that is what we will do. We will meet again in a day or two and fix everything up straight.” “Yes, and-a the sooner the better, Mistare Gillam. I am-a glad-a you hafe come to my help-a in ze great matter—26 great-a matter of a lifetime to me. Eet ees incom—” “ So you said before, but don’t let that worry you. I have told you what my reason is for taking a hand in the game. I am either with you or against you, just as you please. Of course I am with you, since you have agreed to have it so.” “Yes, yes, you are with-a me, to be sure. But-a tell-a me, Mistare Gillam, v’at ees eet make-a you hate Mistare Burry like-a you say you do?” “ Oh, that can’t concern you,” Sharpe an— swered. “ I can’t tell you that. It has nothing to do with this matter, and so long as you get the girl, you needn’t trouble your head about anything else.” The Italian had been on the point of asking about the fortune that he had heard old Burry speak about, but had checked himself and turned the question into another entirely dif- ferent, and which he cared nothing about what— ever. He did not know whether to trust his new acquaintance with that or not. If he did not know anything about the fortune, if there was one, it would be givmg that matter away, and if he did know about it, it might not do to let him suspect that he, the Italian, knew about it, “I know too. They talked on for a 'time, but nothing fur- ther of importance was brought out, and finally they parted, with a time and place set for an- other meeting. Twenty minutes later saw the rascally detec- tive in the office of Hector Browden. “ Well,” Bro .vden demanded, “ what luck?” “ Good luck, noble patron,” was the response, as Sharpe dropped into a chair. “ I have seen the Italian.” “ And have worked yourself into his favor?" “ I have forced myself into his favor. He had to accept me.” “ Well, you are the devil, I must say. How did you work that? Was forced to take you i” “ Exactly. Told him I was either for or against him, just as he would have it, and he made up his mind he would rather have me for him.” “ Then you have arranged with him about the irl?” “ Exactly. IVe are to steal her, he will marry her, and then she will be taken ofi.’ to Italy. That will be one out of the way. I am gomg for that half~million, you bet. And all New York shall not keep me from getting it, either.” “ You are right there. We can defy the world. This will be one heir disposed of. There will be only four more to put out of the way, and we can make short work of them. Then the coast will be all clear for us t) proceed. Oh, it is ours!” . CHAPTER XXII. A GREAT SURPRISE. WHAT horrible thing was contemplated? Hector Browden’s words,with those of Sharpe, disclose it. They were determined upon wiping out the last of the Clayburn heirs, one and all! And everything lOoked favorable for their suc- cess. IVho could hinder their dark scheme from being carried out? It was all in their own hands, and the reward was sufficiently great to make men of their stamp desperate to the last degree. Success meant mil- lions! “ Yes, you are right it is ours,” responded Sharpe, to Browden’s last remark. “ The devil himself could not keep us out of it now. A few mysterious deaths or disappearances, or both, and then success!” “ But, have you got your eye upon a man yet?" “To play the role of long-10st heir, do you mean ’4” “ Certainly, that is the only man we have talked about.” “ Beg pardon, but we have talked of another, one for dirty work.” “ Yes, but we decided against that. IVe want no third helper in that matter.” “ So We did. I had not forgotten it. of course. No, to answer your quest-ion, I haven‘t.” “ But you are casting about for him, of course. I am, but, like you, I have not been able to find one yet. It is not going to be easy, I am afraid." “ Yes, I am looking around, and we shall find him all in good time. You see, the conditions he must fill is where the difficulty lies. He must be American, and a sailor.” “ Exactly. He must be one who can play the ' part of Elias Clayburn, and with enough brain to carry it out, once he has learned it. The promise of a hundred thousand dollars if he suc- ceeds will make him nerve himself.” “You are right it will, if he is built on the ordinary plan. But, what about that cousin of yours?" “ 1 have seen her. Have told her that she must marry one of the heirs soon, or her chance will be gone. She and I will marry them if we can, you know, but if not— Well, the chances are all against me, so the other plans will be the ones likely to he resorted to.” “ Oh, yes, and better so, too. all, that way, you know.” “ Yes, yes, you are right.” “ And mind one thing,” warned Sharpe, “ no trying to draw back, or I will put the screws right on ymi.” ‘ “ Do you imagine I am the man to draw back?” sneered Browden. “ If you‘ prove yourself my equal in the business, you will do well.” “ Never fear for me. I am going for that half-million, as I said, and all New York could not keep me out of it. And then to spend the rest of my life in a delightful dream. Oh, the game is ours.” . But, let us return to the old tenement. Emily Woolruff was going about her duties, singing, as usual. She was beginning preparations for dinner, and as a mutton pie was to form the attraction, the duties were not light. In order to make the pie 8. success, and to turn it out at its best and have it just as her grand- father liked it, everything pertaining to it had to be done with the most exact care. But, care in her work did not prevent her from singing, and she went about trilling and warbling like a happy bird, and no common songster, either. As we have said, Signor Van- zini was not mistaken in his estimate of her vocal powers. While she was singing, and doing credit to one of the Yasari airs that were the rage, a car— riage came slowly along through the street. It was an open carriage, and its occupant was a vailed woman. When the carriage came opposite the old tene- ment, and the rich young voice caught the wo- man’s car, she ordered her driver to stop. She sat and listened until the end of the air was reached, when she told the driver to pull in to the curb and let her out, which was prompt- ly done. When the woman had got out, she spoke to an Italian who was standing near, addressing him in his native tongue, asking: “ 0 you know who was sin ing ?" “ Yes, lady,” he answered, ‘ it was a girl who lives in this house.” “ W'hat is her name, and do you know in what part of the house her rooms are situated?” “ Her name is Emily Woolruff, lady, and she lives in the rooms where you see the white cur- tains and flowers.” More questions followed, and when she had satisfied herself, the woman went boldly into the old “barracks” and made her way up the stairs. As she went up, the girl was singing again, and guided by the voice, she was soon at the right door. There she stopped and listened attentively until the singing ceased, when she knocked. Emily had just deposited her work of art, the pie, in the oven, and was wiping her hands. “ IVho can it be?” she asked herself. “ Hope it ain’t the monkey.” Taking hold of the damp towel by its ends, she held it ready for use as a weapon of de— fense, and opened the door. What was her surprise to find there a lady, richly dressed though plainly, with a vail over her face. “ Are you Emily Woolruff, miss?” she in- quired. “Yes, ma’m, that’s my name,” the girl re- sponded. “May I come in?” the woman then asked. “ I want to talk with you a minute or two.” As she put this question the woman raised her vail. Emily noted that she was good—looking, though her features were large. Her eyes and brows were black, and her hair was of a very dark bronze-brown. “ Certainly, come right in,” the girl invited. She wondered who her visitor could be, and what her errand. The woman stepped within, and when Emily had closed the door she invited her to the best room. “ No, I will sit down right here for a mo- ment,” the woman answered, helping herself to a chair as she spoke. “ I heard you singing, and my curiosity brought me in to see you.” Emi y blushed. “Well, this is me,” she responded. “You don’t see very much." There was something so innocent and frank about her answer that the woman had to smile. “ I do not agree with you there,” she said. “ I see a great deal in the future for you, if you only had training for that voice.” “ Dear me! are you stuck on my singin’, too?” Emily exclaimed. “ You are as bad as the old monkey.” “ And who is the old monkey, pray?" asked the woman. “ Why, he’s a Eyetalian that calls himsslf Count Vanzini, and he wants me to leave grand- dad and run ofi‘ and marry him, so he can train my voice and make a star of me that will dim even Vasari.” “ And do you think of doing anything of the kind?” the woman asked, gravely enough. Emily laughed. ' “ I should smile out loud if I did.” she re sponded. “ No, I should advise you not to. My advice is, however, to have your voice trained if you ssibly can, and to begin immediately.” “ I’d like to do it, first-rate, as I told grand- dad, but you see, I haven’t the wherewith. I‘d give anything if I could sing right and proper, same as Vasari can. I only wish I could.” You handle it “Then you do not know anything about music?" “Not a thing, ma’m.” “ Poor child! and with such a voice. Do you think your granddad, as you call him, would al- low me to pay for your education?” “ Pay for my education—you!” the girl ex- claimed. “II'hat would you want to do that for? I don’t know whether he‘d let you or not, but I don’t believe he would. He wants me right with him.” “ I believe I will come and see him, anyhow, and propose it to him.” “ You can do that if you want to, but I think he’ll kick.” “ When would I be likely to find him at home?” “ Oh, any night after six. you, anyhow?” The question was right out blunt, in the girl’s usual way. “ Well, I am Signorina "\Iasari.” f The answer was prompt and startling in ef- ect. Emily let the damp towel fall from her hands, and stood silent and gaping. “ Vasari!‘7 she finally exclaimed, when the pewer of speech returned to her. “ Are you, really ?" “ Yes, I am she, really and truly,” the woman assured. ” I was riding through this street when i heard your voice, and I was determined to find out something about you.” “ And do you say I kin sing?” excitedly. “Yes, I say you can sing. You can sing as well as I could at your age.” “ That settles it I” cried Emily, determinedly. “ If we come into our fortune, I know what I’ll do with my share of it. I‘ll take it and learn to sing right and proper, that’s what I’ll do.” “ Y our fortune? Are you an heiress, then ?” “ Oh, yes; if there is anything in it, I am.” “ Well, I hope there is, for your sake. But if your grandfather will give his consent, and you are willing, I will take you and educate you my- But, say! who are “ Well, I don’t know, but I’m afraid he will kick, as I said. He wants me right here, and he thinks there ain’t nobody kin make a mutton pie equal to mine. Oh, I must look to this one!” ~ She sprung to the oven to examine the deli- cacy. and the savory odor filled the room. “If it is as good as it smells,” remarked the signorina, “ I don’t blame him for wanting you near him. It must be a treat.” “ You’d think so, if you Could see him jab it and wade into it,” laughed Emily, as she closed the door again. “I have no doubt it is good, and nothing would please me so well as to come and take dinner with you and your grandfather some night when you have mutton pie. Would you have me?” ' “ Have you! Bet your life we would! IVe’d kill the fatted calf, as I’ve heard Old Gabriel tell about, and have a bang-up time!" (To be continued—connnenccd 1' it No. 437'.) Banner Casuals. IN a biographical dictionary of Russian au- thors recently issued, 1,000 pages are devoted to those whose names begin with A. A JOHN Chinaman who went back home after making his $800 eternal fortune in this country, established a stage-line between two towns where sedan chairs were in use, and inside of a week he was caught up by the authorities and his property confiscated. The charge against him was: “ Creating a great worry and uneasiness in the public mind.” THE sight of a gang of convicts in prison suits of broad black and yellow stripes at work in the public parks of Richmond strikes a Northern man as a peculiar feature of the Virginia re- formatory system. They work even in the shadow of the State House, keeping the walks and lawn in order. rl‘hey are short-term men, and do not require much watching to prevent their escaping. AN increase of over 700 per cent. within ten years in the value of real estate in a single town in Maine shows that all the real- estate “ booms” are. not limited to the far Western States. Some of the New England States are not increasing rapidly in population, but the careful investor can still find profitable use for his money in pur- chasing real estate in some of the seaport towns and watering-places with less risk than in the Western towns,which sometimes decline in pros— perity as quickly as they have grown. A STRINGENT control is to be exercised in Ger- many over the sale of Tuberculinum Kochii. According to a recent decree, it can be pur- chased only in drug-stores which receive the “ cure” from Dr. Libberte. The doctor is to continue the manufacture of the lymph. It is to be placed in bottles containing quantities ranging between one and five cubic centimeters. With each bottle there is to be a paper contain- ing specific directions for using the medicine. The bottles are to be kept among the poisons in all drug-stores and to be sold only upon the re- quisition of reputable physicians. A bottle con- taining one cubic centimeter is to cost 6 marks; a bottle with five cubic centimeters, ‘35 marks. THERE is one important industry in this coun- try, at any rate, which is free from any danger of being ruined by cheap labor from China. Pawnbroking is far more profitable in the Celestial Empire than in the United States. For whereas the American “uncle” is forced to content himself with interest at the starvation rate of 25, or at the most 30, per cent. per an- num, the Chinese “lenders” are authoriZed by their Government to extort as much as 270 per cent. a year. The official limit until a few months ago was as high as 288 per cent., and the reduction of 18 per cent. recently decreed by the provincial Viceroys has caused wailing and gnashing of teeth among the pawnbrokers of the Empire. ACCORDING to the latest statistics, Norway has 1 university, 46 professors and 880 students. France has 1 university, 180 professors, and 9 300 students. Belgium has 4 universities, 88 professors, and 2,400 students. Holland has 4 universities, 80 professors, and 1,600 students. Portugal has 1 university, 40 professors, and 1,300 students. Italy has 17 universities, 600 professors, and 11,140 students. Sweden has 2 universities, 173 professors. and 1,010 students. Switzerland has 3 universities, 00 professors,and 2,000 students. Russia has 8 universities, 5S2 professors, and 6,000 students. Denmark has 1 university, 40 profesScrs, and 1 400 students. Austria has 10 universities, 1,810 professors, and and 13.600 students Spain has 10 universities, 380 professors, 16,200 students. Germany has 21 universities, 1,020 professors, and 25 084 stu- dents. The United States of America has 360 universities. 4,240 professors, and 69,400 students. Great Britain has 11 universities, 834 professors, and 18,400 students. THE German colliery-owner th'mks that the day is coming when the old proverb about “ carrying coals to Newcastle ” will have become obsolete, and Germany will actually send coal to English markets. This prophecy is based partly on the working out of England’s best seams; but more particularly upon the enor- mous improvement in transport through the great network of waterways in Germany which will be finished about ten or fifteen years hence. The Rhine-Ems Canal, which will be opened in about four or five years, is to connect the Rheu- ish Westphalian coal and iron industry with the German North Sea ports, from whence it is to be exported and placed on the English markets at cheaper rates than the home production. The Oder-Spree Canal already in existence is to be widened, so as to enable larger barges, such as will be used on the Rhine-Ems Canal, to be employed, and along this waterway the Silesian coal will be brought to Berlin, and again through the Spree and Havel to the whole Elbe district and the North Sea. Wuhan--.” .. ..,,.. "'wv 7- --——v~u-w--. -ma‘ mm, s... . ..