blonde, almost an Albino had it not been for her peculiar blue eyes. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and, as she handed me a letter, which I noticed was one of introduction, she threw herself on a lounge apparently prostrated with grief. After a few moments she recovered herself enough to explain the cause of her sorrow, which it seems was the loss of a little white kitten that had been stolen from her on her arrival at the Forty-second street station. I managed to comfort her by saying that a notice in the paper would probably restore her lost pet.

Reading the letter I found it was from an old friend in W., Mass., introducing me to Miss Belle a very intimate friend of her family, who had come to the city to testify in an important will case, and asking my wife and me to take charge of her. Requesting her to excuse me while I finished my sitting, I told her I would then see her to my home, and left her to amuse herself with my books and sketches. One thing struck me as I left the room, she wore a white dress with an almost imperceptible stripe, her eyes and the way she carried her head were strangely suggestive of the ivory, which I had carefully put away in my bureau drawer. I immediately resumed my work, but was considerably distracted by the remarkable appearance of the girl, who was a decided beauty, and the uncalled-for grief she displayed at the loss of her kitten. I worked about an hour, and when I had finished my sitting, knowing that I could not complete my work that morning on account of the interruption, I dismissed my sitter and her mother, and went back to my picture.

When I saw it I was astounded; the brunette I had been painting was a blonde! The lines of the drapery were entirely altered; a series of subdued stripes had been added to the simple white color of the original drapery, and I had made a striking likeness of my strange young visitor, and to crown all, the whole effect strongly suggested the ivory carving. I rushed to the door of my reception room, and there stood my young lady all smiles. She asked at once whether I had finished her portrait. I did not answer her; in fact, I was beginning to feel decidedly nervous, and only said that we would go over to my house, a block below, where I would leave her with my wife, and then go immediately and see about her kitten.

I am devoted to my wife and children, and every one speaks of me as a model husband; but as I walked along with this young woman I seemed to forget all my responsibilities as a married man, and began to think what a splendid wife she might make-and wondered if she would consent to be Mrs. Jones; in fact, I do not know how far this infatuation would have carried me, had she not suddenly burst out a laughing, and said, "Mr. Jones, I know it was awfully mean of me to make you spoil your portrait and paint mine instead, and to put all these terrible thoughts into your head. I will not do it any more if you will only try real hard to get me back my little kitten." As soon as she spoke I was myself again, and in a few minutes she was in charge of my wife, who seemed delighted to meet her, which was rather singular, as she is not a particular admirer of her own sex, and has at times showed some little jealousy over my enthusiastic admiration for some of my sitters.

I started immediately for the newspaper offices and put an advertisement in every paper in the city. The next morning a boy came in with the kitten. It was a cunning little thing, perfectly white, and I fancied I could see certain light markings similar to those on the statuette, which, by the way, I had decided not to show to my young lady. The fact was, her presence made me so nervous that I determined not to let her see it. I had no particular reason for this, as, in conversation with the young Russian, he had said, in answer to my inquiries as to the purpose of the carving, that it was, as far as he could find out, only emblematical of the tribe's religion. But I could not divest myself of the idea that the girl was in some way connected with it, and to tell the truth, I was a little "piqued," if not positively afraid of her, as I flattered myself that I had the reputation among my friends of a man who was not easily influenced. When at the end of three days Miss Belle had given her testimony, making, as I afterward heard, a decidedly favorable impression on the Court, and I had put her on the cars for WI felt as though "a cloud had been lifted from our household," although she was a most delightful visitor, turning the heads of all the men who happened. to meet her, both married and single.

In a letter to my friend in W

I gave some account of her strange friend's doings, and she wrote me the following:

DEAR MR. JONES:-Belle is a most charming and delightful girl. We have known her from childhood, and she comes down from Salem once a year to visit us. Father calls her the "White Tigress," because of her peculiar appearance and her fondness for white dresses with stripes in the pattern, which in making up she arranges to look like the markings on that animal. The resemblance ceases there, as she is the most gentle of creatures, although at times full of mischief. She certainly has some sort of hypnotic power, and lately

took part in an entertainment we had here for charity, giving us a remarkable exhibition of mind-reading. Father, who knows all about her family, says that she inherits the power. In 1692 a ship was wrecked near Salem, and all on board lost, except one person-a woman-who, it seems, was a Hindoo. Although her features were of an oriental type, she was an Albino, and was known as the 'White Lady.' She was a woman of distinguished presence and fine education, and married a minister in Salem. During the witchcraft troubles, although very popular among the

people of the town, she was accused of practicing the 'black art,' and charges are on record against her of the most absurd character, which received the sanction of devout and learned men of the times. One of them was that she pretended to foretell the future. She admitted the last charge, and said she had come from a people in Northern India, of peculiar religion who had that power. She never could be con victed, and thoroughly convinced her accusers that she was a good woman. Belle is a direct descendant, and evidently inherits some of the peculiarities of her ancestors."

That is all of my story, except to say "that I builded better than I knew," and my painting, which I abandoned as a portrait of the beautiful brunette, was considered by my friends of so much interest that I sent it to the "Society" exhibition that year catalogued as the "White Tigress." had the place of honor, and the boys on the hanging committee said, as a piece of technique pure and simple, it was up to John Sargent at his best.

It

Nov. 25th, 1893. 4 o'clock. HIS morning at ten o'clock I was just settling down to attack Beethoven's Twenty-fifth symphony, when the door opened, and who should walk in but mamma. Mamma awake and stirring at ten o'clock! And not only awake and stirring, but dressed and ready to go out-mantled

and bonnetted.

I could not remember ever to have seen her stirring so early before. She never manages to get to church on Sunday before the middle of the one o'clock Mass. The other evening she said, laughingly, to Abbé Pontal:

"Monsieur l'Abbé, our dear religion would be absolutely perfect if you substituted a mass at two for that at one. Then the concerts at the Conservatoire could be put an hour later, and Sunday in winter would be all that could be desired." At mamma's entrance I was stupefied, and exclaimed: "You are going out, mamma?"

"No, I've just come in."

*Translated by J. Matthewman, from the French, for Short Stories. Illustrations by Mabel L. Humphrey.-Copyrighted.