SARAH WALKER.

A NEW STORY.

BY BRET HARTE.

3_r was very hot. lNot a breath of air was stirring throughout the western wing of the Greyport Hotel, and the usual feverish life of its 400 inmates had succumbed to the weather. The great verandah was deserted; ■Hie corridors were desolated; no foot-fall echoed in the passages; the lazy rustle of a wandering skirt, or a passing sigh that was half a pant, seemed to intensify the heated silence. Anintoxicatodbe_,disgracefullyun steady in wing and leg, who hadbeonholding an inebriated conversation with himself in the corner of my window pane, had gone to sleep at last and was snoring. The errant prince might have entered the slumberous Balls unchallenged, and walked into any of the darkened rooms whose open doors gaped for more air, without awakening the veriest Greyport flirt with his salutation. At times a drowsy voice, a lazy interjected sentence, aa Incoherent protest, along-drawn phrase of saccharine tenuity suddenly broken off ■with a gasp, came vaguely to the ear as if fibd-cating a half-suspended, half-articulated existence somewhere, but not definite enough to indicate conversation. In the midst at this there was the sudden crying of a child. I looked up from my work. Through the camera of my jealously guarded window I could catch a glimpse of the vivid, quivering blue of the sky, tbe glittering intensity of the ocean, the long motionless leaves of the horse chestnut in the road— all utterly inconsistent with anything as active as this lamentation. I stepped to ■flic open door and into the silent hall. Apparently the noise had attracted the equal attention of my neighbours. A vague chorus of "Sarah Walker," in querulous •recognition of, " O Lord! that child again!" in hopeless protest, rose faintly from tlie different rooms. As the- lamenta tion seemed to approach nearer, the visitor's doors were successively shut; swift'footsteps hurried along the hall; past my open door came » momentary vision of a heated nurse sudd carrying a tumultuous chaos of frilled skirts, flying sash, rebellious slippers and tossing curls; there was a moment's rally ing struggle before the room nearly opposite mine, and then a door opened and shut upon tho vision. It was Sarah Walker ! Everybody knew her; few had ever seen more of her than this passing vision. In _he great hall, in tbe dining-room, in the vast parlours, in the'garden, in the avenue, on tho beach, a sound of lamentation had always been followed by this same brief apparition. Was there a sudden pause among the dancers and a subjugation of the loudest bassoons in the early evening "hop" ? the explanation was given in the ■words "Sarah Walker." Was there a wild confusion among the morning bathers on the sands T People whispered " Sarah Walker." • A panic among the waiters at dinner, an interruption in the Sunday sacred concert, a disorganisation of the after-dinner promenade on the verandah, •were instantly referred to Sarah Walker. Nor were her efforts confined entirely to public life. In cosey corners and dark ened recesses bearded lips withheld the amorous declaration to mutter. " Sarah Walker" between their clenched teeth; coy and bashful tongues found speech at last in the rapid formulation of "Sarah Walker." Nobody ever thought of ab breviating her full name. The two people in the hotel, otherwise - individualised, but known only as "Sarah Walker's father" and "Sarah Walker's mother," and never as Mr and Mrs Walker, ad dressed her only as " Sarah Walker;" two animals that were occasionally a part of this passing pageant were known as "Sarah Walker's dog" and "Sarah "Walker's cat;" and later it was my proud privilege to sink my own individuality trader the title of ."that friend of Sarah Walker's." It must not be supposed that she had at tained this baleful eminence without some active criticism. Every parent in the Grey port Hotel had held his or her theory of the particular defects of Sarah Walker's educa tion ; every virgin and bachelor had openly expressed views of the peculiar discipline •that was necessary to her subjugation.'. Tt may be roughly estimated that she would hare spent the entire nine years of her ac tive lifein a dark cupboard on an exclusive diet of bread and water, had this discipline obtained ; while, on the other hand.had the educational theories of the parental assembly prevailed, she would have ere this shone an etherealisei essence in the angelic host. In either event, she would have "ceased from troubling," which was the general Greyport idea of higher education. A paper •read before our literary society on "Sarah Walker and other Infantile Diseases," was •referred to in the catalos-ue as " Walker, Sarah, Prevention and Cure," while the usual burlesque legislation of our summer season culminated in the act entitled "An ast to amend an act entitled an act for the abatement of Sarah Walker." As she was hereafter exclusively to be fed " on the provision* of this act," some idea of its gen eral tone may be gathered. It was a singular fact-nthispolntoiherhistorytharbernatural progenitors not only oflerod no resistance to the doubtful celebrity of their offspring, but by hopelessly accepting the situation, to some extent posed as Sarah Walker's victim-. Mr and Mrs Walker were known to bo rich, respectable, and indulgent to their only child Tbey themselves hadbeen evolved from a previous generation of pro miscuously acquired wealth into the reposo ol inherited property ; but it was currently accepted that Sarah had " cast back " and -reincarnated some, waif on the deck of an emigrant ship at the beginning of tbe cen-

tury. Such was the child separated from me by this portentous history, a narrow pas __>ge, and a closed nursery door. -Pre sently, however, the door was partly opened again as if to admit the air. The crying had ceased, but in, its place the monoton «ua voice of conscience, for the moment personated by Sarah Walker's nursemaid, _£spt alive a drowsy recollection of Sarah Walker's tranßgressions. "Yon see," said the voice, "what a jh'eadful thing it is for a little girl to on as you do. I am astonished at yon, Sarah Walker. So is every ftK>3y; so is the good ladies next door; •so is tho kind gentleman opposite: so _s all! Where you expect to go to, 'evin only knows ! . How you expect.to bo for given, saints alone can tell! But so it is always, and yet you keep it up. And ■wouldn't you like it different, Sarah * Walker?" Wouldnlt you like to hays every body love you T Wouldn't you like them .good ladies next door and that nice gentle man opposite all to kinder riso up nrd say : .'Ob, -what a dear, good littie gir' Sarah

Walker is !'" The interpolation of a smack ing sound of lips, as if in, unctuous antici pation of Sarah Walker's virtue, here ensued—" Oh, what a dear, good, sw-e-et, lovely little girl Sarah Walker is 1" There was a dead silence. It may have been fancy, but I thought that some of the doors in the passage creaked softly as if in listening expectation. Then she silence was broken by a sigh. Had Sarah Walker in gloriously succumbed ? Rash and impotent conolusion!

"I don't," said Sarah Walker's voice, slowly rising until it broke od the crest ef a mountainous sob. " I—don't—want—'em to—love—me. I—don't—want—em—to— Say—what—a—dear — good — little girl- Sarah Walker is !"

The light from a half-opened shutter fell full upon her rebellious little figure. She had stiffened herself in a large easy chair into the attitude in which "she had been evidently deposited there by the nurse whose torn-off apron she still held rigidly in one hand. Her shapely legs stood out before her, jointless and inflexible to the point of her tiny shoes—a pose copied with pathetic fidelity by the French doll at her feet. The attitude must have been dread fully uncomfortable, and maintained only as being replete with some vague insult to the person who had put her down, as well as exhibiting a wild in decorum of silken stocking. A mysto fied kitten—Sarah Walker's inseparable —-was held as rigidly under one arm with equal dumb aggressiveness. Follow ing the stiff, line of her half-recumbent figure, her head suddenly appeared perpen dicularly erect—yet the only mobile part of her body. A dazzling sunburst of silky hair, the colour of burnished copper, partly hid her neck and shoulders and the back of the chair. Her eyes were a darker shade of the same colour—the orbits appearing deeper, and larger from the rubbing in of habitual tears from lon|*, wet lashes. Nothing so far Beamed inconsistent with her infelix repu tation, but, strange to say, her other fea tures were marked by delicacy and refine ment, and her mouth—that sorely exercised and justly dreaded member—was small and pretty, albeit slightly dropped at the corners.

_ The immediate effect of my intrusion was limited solely to the nursemaid. Swooping suddenly upon Sarah Walker's too evident deshabille, she made two or three attempts to pluck her into propriety, but the child recognising the cause as woll as the effect, looked askance at me and only stiffened herself the more. "Sarah Walker, I'm Bhocked." .

"It ain't hie room anyway," said Sarah, eyeing me violently. " What's he doing here?" •

There was so much truth in this that I involuntarily drew back abashed. ' The nursemaid ejaculated " Sarah 1" and lifted her eyes in hopeless protest. " And he needn't come seeing you," con tinued Sarah, lazily rubbing the back of her head against the chair; "my papa don't allow it.' He warned you 'bout the other gentleman, you know." "Sarah Walker!"

I felt it .was necessary to say something, " Don't you want to come with me and look at the sea?" I Baid with utter feebleness of invention. To my surprise, instead of actively assaulting me, Sarah Walker got np, shock her hair over ber shoulders, and took my hand.

" With your hair in that state?" almost screamed the domestic. But Sarah Walker had already pulled me into the hall. What particularly offensive form of opposition to authority was implied in this prompt assent to my proposal I could only darkly guess. For myself I knew I must appear to ber a weak impostor. What would there pos sibly be in the sea to interest Sarah Walker? For the moment I prayed for a waterspout, a shipwreck, a whale, or any marine miracle to astound her and redeem my character. I walked guiltily down the hall, holding her hand bashfully in mine. I noticed that her breast began to heave convulsively; if she cried I knew I should mingle my tears with hers. We reached the verandah in gloomy silence. As I expected, the sea lay before us glittering in the sun—vacant, staring, flat and hope lessly and unquestionably uninteresting.

" I knew it all along," said Sarah Walker, turning down the corners of her mouth; " there never was anything to see. I know why you got me to come down here. You want to tell me if I'm a good girl you'll take me to sail some day. You want to say if I'm bad the sea will swallow me up. That's all ycu want, you horrid thing.you."

" Hush !" I said, pointing to the corner of the verandah.

A desperate idea of escape had just seized me. Bolt upright in the recess of a window sat a nursemaid who had suc cumbed to sleep equally with her helpless charge in the perambulator beside her- I instantly recognised the infant—a popular organism known as "Baby Buckly"—tho prodigy of the Greyport Hotel, the pet of its enthusiastic womanhood. Fat and featureless, pink and pinoushiony, it was borrowed by gushing, maidenhood, ex changed by idiotic maternity, and had grown unctuous and tumefacious under the kisses and embraces of half the hotel. Even in its present repose it looked moist and shiny from indiscriminate and promis cuous osculation..

"Let's borrow Baby Buckly," I said recklessly. Sarah Walker at once stopped crying. I don't know how she did it, but the cessation was instantaneous, as if she had turned off a tap somewhere. "And put it in Mr Peters's bed!" I continued.

Peters being notoriously a grim bachelor, the bare suggestion bristled with outrage. Sarah Walker s eyes sparkled. " "Sou don't mean it! —go 'way " she said with affected coyness. "But I do! Come."

We extracted it noiselessly' together— that is, Sarah Walker did, with deft womanliness—carried it darkly along the hall to No. 27, and deposited it in Peters's bed, where it lay like a freshly opened oyster, We then returned hand in hand to my room, where we looked out of the window on the sea. It was observable that there "was no lack of interest in Sarah Walker now.

Before five minutes had elapsed some one had breathlessly passed the open door while j we were still engaged in marine observa tion. This was followed by return foot steps and a succession of swiftly rustling garments, until the majority of women in our wing had apparently passed our room, and we. saw an irregular stream of house maids and mothers converging towards the hotel out of the grateful shadow of arbors, trees, and marquees. In fact, wo were still 'engaged in observation when Sarah Walker's nurse came to fetch her away, and to inform her that "by rights" Baby Buckly's nurse and Mr Peters should both be made to leave the hotel that very night. Sarah Walker permitted herself to bo led off with dry but expressive eyes. That evening she did not cry, but on being taken into the usual rcostody for disturbance, was found to be purple with suppressed laughter. This was the beginning of my intimacy with Sarah Walker. But while it was evident that whatever influence I obtained over her was due to my being parliceps criminis, I think it, was accepted, that a regular abduction of infants might become

in time monotonous, if not dangerous. So she was satisfied with the knowledge that I could not now, without the most glaring hypocrisy, obtrude a moral superiority over her. Ido not think she would have turned State evidence and accused me, but I was by no means assured of her disinterested regard. She contented herself for a few days afterward in meeting me privately and mysteriously communicating unctuous re miniscences of our joint crime, without suggesting a repetition. Her intimacy with me did not seem to interfere with her general relations to her own species in the other children in the hotel. Perhaps I should have said before that her popularity with them was by no means prejudiced by her infelix reputation. But while she was secretly admired by all, she had few pro fessed followers and no regular associates. Whether the few whom she selected for that baleful preeminence were either torn from her by horrified guardians, or came to grief through her dangerous counsels, or whether she really did not care for them, I could not say. Their elevation was brief, their re tirement unregretted. It was, however, permitted me, through felicitous circum stances, to become acquainted with the probable explanation of her unsociability. The very hot weather culminated one afternoon in a dead faint of earth and sea and sky. An Alpine cloudland of- snow that had mocked the upturned eyes of Grey port for hours began to darken under the folding shadow of a black and velvety wing. The atmosphere seemed to thicken as the gloom increased; the lazy dust thrown up by hurrying feet that sought a refuge h\ing almost motionless in the air. Suddenly it was blown to the four quarters in one fierce gust that as quickly dispersed the loungers drooping in shade and cover. For a few seconds the long avenue was lost in flying clouds of dust, and then was left bare of life or motion. Rain-drops in huge stars and rosettes appeared noiselessly and magically upon the sidewalks — gouts of moisture apparently dropped from midair. And then the ominous hush returne 1.

A mile away along the rocks I turned for shelter into a cavernous passage of tho over hanging cliff, where I could still watch the coming storm upon: tbe sea. A murmur of voices presently attracted my attention. I then observed that the passage ended in a kind of open grotto, where I could dimly discern the little figures of several children, who, separated from their nurses in the sudden onset of the storm, had taken refuge there. As the gloom deepened they became silent again, until the stillness was broken by a familiar voice. There was no mistaking it; it was Sarah Walker's. But it was not lifted,in .lamentation'; it was raised only as if resuming a suspended narrative.

"Her name," said Sarah Walker, gloomily, " was Kribbles. She was the only child—of—of orphaned parent age, and fair to see, but she was bad, and God did not love her. And one day ehe was separated from her nurse on a desert island like to this. And then came a hideous thunderstorm, and a great big thunderbolt came galnmping after her. And it ketched and rolled all over her—so 1 and then it came back and ketched her and rolled her over—so ! And whan they they came to pick her up there was not so much as that left of her. All burnt up "

" Wasn't there just a little bit of her shoe ? " suggested a cautious auditor. " Not a bit," said Sarah Walker firmly. All the other children echoed "Not a bit," indignantly, in evident gratification at the completeness of Kribble's catas trophe. At this moment the surrounding darkness was suddenly filled with a burst of blue celestial fire ; the heavy inky sea beyond, the black-edged mourning horizon, the gleaming sands, each nook aad corner of the dripping cave, with the frightened faces of the huddled gronp of children, started into vivid life for an instant, and then fell back with a deafening crash into the darkness.

There was a slight sound of whimpering. Sarah Walker apparently pounced upon tho culprit, for it ceased.

" Sniffling 'tracts 'lectricity," she said sontentiously.

' "But you thaid it wath Dod !" lisped a casuist of seven.

" It's all the same," said Sarah sharply, " and so's asking questions." This obscure statement was, however, ap parently understood, for the casuist lapsed into silent security. " Lots of things 'tracts it," continued Sarah Walker. "Gold and silver, and metals and knives and rings." "Pennies?"

" And pennies most of all! Kribbles was that vain, she used to wear jewellery and fly in the face of Providence." " But you thaid—"

"Will you? There! You hear that?" There was another flash and a bounding roll of thunder along the shore. " I wonder you didn't ketch it. You would, only I'm here." -;- . ■' -

Alf was quiet again, but from certain in dications it was evident that a col lection of those dangerous articles that had proved fatal to the unhappy Kribbles was being taken up. I could hear the clink of coins and jingle of orna ments. That Sarah, herself, was the custo dian, was presently shown. " But won't the lightning come to you now ?" asked a timid voice.

" No," said Sarah, promptly, " 'cause I ain't afraid ! Look!" * , .V

A frightened protest from the children here ensued, hat the next instant she ap peared at the entrance to the grotto and ran,down the rocks toward the sea. Skip ping from boulder to boulder, she reached the farthest projection of the. ledge, now' partly submersed by the rising surf, and then tamed, half triumphantly, half defiantly, toward the grotto. The weird phosphorescence of the storm lit up the resolute little figure standing there, gorgeously bedecked with the chains, rings, and shiny trinkets ol her companions. With a tiny hand raised in mock defiance of the elements, she seemed to lean con fidingly against the panting breast of the gale, with fluttering skirt and flying tresses. Then the vault behind her cracked with three jagged burning fissures, a weird flame leaped upon the sand, there was a cry of terror from the grotto, echoed by a scream of nurses on the cliff, a deluge of rain, a terrific onset from the gale—and—Sarah Walkei was gone ? Nothing,of the kind ! When I reached the ledge, after a severe struggle with the storm,'l found Sarah on the leeward side, drenched but delighted. I held her tightly, while we waited for a lull, ¥ to,regaih tha cliff, and took advantage of 'the sympathetic situation. . "But you know you were frightened,. Sarah,'! I/whispered ; " you thought of what happened to poor Kribbles." ... "Do you know who Kribbles.was?" she asked confidentially. ' . . „" :. "N 0.";.-■ ... . ~:*,".

"Well," she whispered, "I made Kribbles up.- And the hidgeous storm and thunderbolt and the burning. All. out of my own head." The.only immediate effect of this escapade was, apparently, to precipitate and bring into notoriety the growing affection fit an obscure lover of Sarah Walker's, hitherto, unsuspected.' Ho was a mild, inoffensive boy of. twelve, known as " Warts," solely from an inordinate exhibition of, these youthful excrescences. On the,day. Of Sarah Walker's adventurehis passion cul

minated in a sudden and illogical at tack upon Sarah's nurse and parents while they .were bewailing her conduct, and in assaulting them with his feet and hands. Whether no associated them in some vague way with the cause of her momentary peril, or whether he only wished to impress her with the touching flattery of a general imi tation of her style, I cannot say. For his love-making was peculiar. A day er two afterward ho came to my open door and remained for soma moments bashfully looking at me. The next day I found him standing by my chair in the piazza with an embarrassed air,- and. in utter inability to explain his conduct. At the end of a rapid walk on the sand onb morning, I was startled by tbe sound of hurried breath, and looking around dis covered the staggering Warts quite ex hausted by endeavouring to keep up with mo on his short legs. At last the daily recurrence of his hunting presence forced a dreadful suspicion upon me. Warts was courting me for Sarah Walker! Yet it was impossible to actually connect her with these mute attentions. "You want me to give them to Sarah Walker," I said cheerfully one afternoon, as he laid upon my desk some peculiarly unin viting Crustacea which looked not unlike a few detached excrescences from his own hands. He shook his head decidedly. "I understand," I continued confidently: "you want me to keep them for ber." " No," said Warts, doggedly. '■ Then you only want me to tell her how nice they are ?" The idea was apparently so shame, lessly true that he blushed himself hastily into the passage, and ceased any future contribution. Naturally still more ineffective was ti_» slightest attempt to bring his devotion into the physical presence of Sarah Walker. The most ingenious schemes to lure him into my room while she was there failed utterly. Yet he must have, at one time basked in her baleful presence. "Do you like Warts ?" I asked her one day bluntly. "Yes," said Sarah Walker with cheerful directness, "ain't he got a lot of 'em?— though he used to have more." But she added reflectively, " do you know the little Ilsey boy ?" I was compelled to admit my ignorance. "Well," she said, with a re miniscent sigh of satisfaction, "he's got only two toes on his left foot—showed 'em to me. And he was born so." Need it be said that in these fow words I read the dismal sequel of Warts's unfortunate attach ment. His . accidental eccentricity was no longer attractive. What were his evanescent accretions, subject to improve" ment or removal, besides the hereditary and settled malformations of his rival ?

Once only in this brief summer episode did Sarah Walker attract the impulsive and general sympathy of Greyport. It is'only just to her consistency to sayit was through no fault of hers, unless a characteristic exposure which brought on a chill and diphtheria could be called her own act. Howbeit, toward the close of tho season when a sudden suggestion of tbe coming autumn had crept, one knew not how, into the heart of a perfect day, when even a return of the summer warmth bad a sus picion of hectic, on one of these days Sarah Walker was missed with the bees and the butterflies. For two days her voice had not been beard in hall or corridor, nor had the sunshine of her French mari gold head lit up her familiar places. The two days were days of relief, yet mitigated with a certain uneasy apprehension of return of Sarah Walker, or —more alarming thought!—the Sarah Walker element in a more appalling form. So strong was this impression that an unhappy infant who unwittingly broke this interval with his maiden outcry was nearly lynched. '• We're not going to stand that from you, you know," was the crystallised sentiment of a brutal bachelor. In fact, it began to be admitted that Greyport had been accus tomed to Sarah "Walker's ways. In the midst of this it was suddenly whispered that Sarah Walker was lying dangerously ill, and was not'expected to live. Then occurred one of those strange revul sions of human sentiment which at first seem to point to the dawning of a millen nium of poetic justice, but svhich in this case ended in merely stirring the languid pulses of society into a hectic fever and in making sympathy for Sarah Walker an insincere and exaggerated fashion, Morning and afternoon visits to her apartment with extravagant offerings were de rigueur, bulletins were issued three times a day, an allusion to her condition was the recognised preliminary to all con versation ; advice, suggestions and petitions to restore the baleful existence flowed readily from the same facile invention the t had once proposed its banishment; until one afternoon the shadow had drawn so close that even Folly withheld its carele.s feet before it, and laid down its feeble tinkling bells and gaudy cap tremblingly on the threshold. But the sequel must be told in more vivid words than mine.

"Whin I saw that angel lying there," said Sarah Walker's nurse, " aa white if ye plaze, as if the whole blessed blood of her body bad gone te make up the beautiful flory of her hair; speechless as she was, thought I saw a sort of longin' in her eyes. " 'Is it anythin' you'll be wantin', Sarah, darlint,' se_ her mother with a tremblin' voice, ' afore its lavin' us ye are ? Is it the ministher yer askin' for, love ?' sez she.

"And Sarah looked at me, and if it was the last words I spake, her lips moved and she whispered ' Scotty.' " ' Wirra I wirra !' sez the mother, ' it's wanderin' she is, the darlin'; for Scotty, don't ye see, was the grand bar-keeper of the hotel.

"' Savin' yer presence, ma'am,' sez I, 'and the child's here, ez is half a saint already, it's truth stye's spakin'—it's Scotty ehe wants.' And with that my angel blinks wid her black eyes ' yes;' "'Bring him,' says the Doothor, 'at once.' i

"And they bring him in wid all the mustachios and moighty fine curls of him, and his diamonds, rings, and pins all a-glistening just like his eyes when he set 'em,on that suffering saint. '""Is it anythin' you're wantin', Sarah dear ?' sez he, thrying to s*pake firm. And Sarah looks at him, and then looks at a tumbler on the table.

'"Is it a bit of a cocktail, the likes of the one I made for you last Sunday unbe knownst?' sez he, looking round mortal afraid of the parents. And Sarah Walker's eyes; said, 'It is.' Then the minishter groaned, but the docthor jumps to his feet. " ' Bring it sez he, ' and howld your jaw, an' ye's a Christian sowl.' And he brought it. An'afther the first sip the child lifts herself up on one arm and sez, with a swate smile and toss of the, glass: '"Ilooks toward you Scotty,' sez ehe. " ' I observes you and bows, miss,' sez he, mtikin' as if he was dbrinkin' wid her. " ' Here's another nail in your coffin, old man,' sez she, winkin'. -

" ' And hero's the hair all off your head, miss' sez he, quite aisly,. tossin' back the joke betwixt 'em. "And. with that she drinks it off, and lies down and goes to sleep like a lamb, and wakes'up wid the rosy dawn'ln her. cheeks, and the morthal seejcness gone forever."

Thus Sarah Walker recovered. Whether the fact were essential to the __oralcon;

veyed in these pages, I leave the reader to judge. I was leaning on the terrace of the Kron prinzen Hof at Rolamlsaok one hot summer afternoon, lazily watching tlie groups of tourists strolling along tlie road that ran between the Hof _„d the Rhyne. There was certainly little in* the place or its at mosphere to recall the Groyport episode of twenty years before, when 1 was suddenly startled by hearing tho name of 'Sarah Walker.'

In the road below mo wero three figures, a lady, a gentlem...*.. and a little girl. As the latter turned toward the lady who addressed her, I recognized the unmis takable copper -coloured tresses, trim figure, delicate complexion', and refined features of the, friend of my youth! 1 seized my hat, but by the time I had reached the road tho. had disappeared. The utter impossibility of it being Sarah Walker herself, and the glaring fact that the very coincidence of name would be inconsistent with any conventional ascent from the original Sarah, I admit confuse me. But I exit mined tho book of the "Kronprizon Hof and the other hotels, and questioned my \jnjrtinr. There was no " Mees " nor " Maa_u.e Walkiere " extant in Bolandseck. Ye; might not Monsieur have beard incorreotly ? The Czara Walka was evidently Russian, and Bolandseck was a resort for Russia -, princes. But pardon Did Monsieur really mean the younp. de moiselle now apprc-ehing ! Ah! that was a different affair. She was tho daughter of the Italian Princ. and Princess Monte Castello staying here. The lady with her was not the Princes :, bat a foreign friend. The gentleman wu- ,he Prince. Would he present Monsieur's card .

They were entoring the hotel. The Prince was a lit tie inoffensive - looking man, the lady an evident countrywoman of my own, and the child was, yet was not, Sarah ! There wa. the face, the outline, the figure—but tho life, the verve, the audacity, were wanting I I could contain myself no longer.

"Pardon an inquisitive compatriot, madam," I said; " but. I heard you a few moments ago address this young lady by the name of a very dear young friend, whom I knew twenty years ago—Sarah Walker. Ami right.*;" The Prince stoppc-i and t,'.izod at us both with evident afltright; then suddenly recognizing in my freedom some wild American indecorum, doubtless provoked by the presence of another of my species, which he really wa* not o_pccted to coun tenance, retreated behind tho portier. The circumstance by co means increased the good will of tho lady as she replied somewhat haughtily. " The Principes-ii,- is named Sarah Walker, aftor her mother's maiden name." "Then this is Sar-h Walker's daugh ter !" I said joyf-lly. '* She is the daughter oi the Prince and Princess of Monte Onstollo," corrected the lady frigidly. "1 had the pleasure 01 knowing her mother very well." I stopped and blushed. Did I really know Sarah Walker very well ? And would Sarah Walker know me now? Or would it not be very liko her to go back on me? There was certainly anything bnt promise in the feeble-minded, vacuous copy of Sarah before me. I was yet hesitating, when the Princo who ",ad possibly received some quieting assurance from the portier, himself stepped forward, stammered that the Princess would, without doubt, be charmed to receive ma later, and skipped upstairs, leaving tho impression on my mind that he contemplated ordering his bill at once. There was no excuse for further prolonging tho interview. " Say good-by to the strange gentleman, Sarah," suggested Sarah's companion stiffly. I looked at the child in the wild hope of recognising some prompt resistance to the suggestion that would havo identified ber with the lost Sarah of my youth but in vain. "Good-bye, sir," ;=aid the affected little creature, dropping a mechanical curtsey. " Thank yon very much for re membering my_ mother." "Good-bye, Sarah !" It was indeed good-bye forever. For on my way to my room I came suddenly upon tho Prince in a recess of the upper hall addressing somebody through an open door with a querulous protest, whose wild extravagance of statement was grotesquely balanced by its utter timidity of manner. "It is," said the Prince, "in deed a grave affair. We have here hundreds of socialists, emissaries from lawless, countries, and impossible places, who travel thousands of miles to fall upon our hearts and embrace us. They establish an espionage over us, they haunt our walks in incredible numbers, they hang in droveß upon our footsteps. Heavon alone saves us from a public osoulation at any moment I They openly allege that they have dandled us on their knees at recent periods, washed and dressed us, and would do so still. Our happiness, our security—" " Don't bo a fool, Prince. Do shut up ]" The Prince collapsed and shrank away, and I hurried past the open door. A tall, magnificent-looking woman was standing before a glass, arranging her heavy red hair. The face, whioh had been impatiently turned toward tho door, changed again to profile, with a frown still visible on the bent brow. Our eyes met as I passed. The next moment the door slammed, and I had seen tho last of Sarah Walker.

Elderly Maidens at the Milliners.

I have often accompanied ladies to the West End modistes, and have sometimes witnessed little incidents of a very amusing kind. I haVe seen " girls " of thirty-nine and a bit make a pretty shop-girl try on all the hats in the placo, and then go to a mirror and try them on themselves, one after another. The disappointed look of these "beauties" was a picture. "It's a singular thing," they seemed to say with a wry face; "they none of them suit me as well as they did that girl." And then what a wicked, murderous look these pretty modistes of twenty-five—an age that shows no mercy—would say, " Oh, madame, that hat suits you, beautifully!" I used to admire the angelic patience with which they tried their whole stock-in-trade on' toel ill-favoured creatures. It must often b6 very amusing" work, and must furnish materials for many a good tale when they, go'home in the evening. One day, at a fashionable modiste's in New Bond-street, a perfect scarecrow had just chosen,' after an hour's deliberation, a delicious little white hat, which.a 'girl of twenty would have thought somewhat too innocent looking. , Two charming assistants showed the lady out with the gravest air in the world, made her a low bow, and shut the door. ■ "I,think,"said one of them, "that .woman ought to expire at forty, don't you ?"—"__es Filles de John Bull," by Max O'Bell. .

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, DECEMBER 24, 1884.

Printed and Published by the Proprietor, n__SRV Brett,' of Syinonda-street, at his General Printlncr Offlce.' Shortland and Port. -treats, in tlie Province of Auokland, New j. Zealand. . , .-, . Wednesday, December. __, 1881.

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