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International Episode.

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International Episode. — The Story of an English Beauty Who Impersonated an American. The great steamer was about to leave the wharf. The luggage was all aboard, the United States mail had clattered down like a fire- engine and had been conveyed on countless hurrying backs on board the Atlantic liner. The captain was giving the final orders, friends of the passengers were stepping down the gangway, and in a few minutes more the Teutonic would have left New York, To George Sargent the carious, bostling scene was no longer a novelty. He thought no more of crossing the herring pond "—as he took great care not to call the Atlantic—than Londoners do of running down to Brighton. It was impossible to tell, from his appearance, manner, or speech to what nationality he laid claim, though his fair, jlean-shaven face and sorupulously English clothes more than suggested an Anglo-Saxon origin. Like the sons of many American million- aires, he had been to Eton, had finished at Harvard, and now spent his year between London and New York. He was running over now—although it was the height of the New York season and the Sargent mansion on Fifth-avenue was open once a week for huge dinner parties and small cotillons-Îor the coming of age of his fag at Eton, the Earl of Tonbridge, more familiary known to his inti- mates as "Sprats." And, to be sure, the gene- ral effect of Mr. George W. Sargent was curiously like that of his quondam Eton fag, though perhaps his English accent was a little overdone. He leaned against the rail, smoking a cigar and watching the leave-takings that were going on round him. One in particular in- terested him more than the others. It was that of a pretty, vivacious girl in a fantastic hat and a smart velvet gown, with her hands full of long-stalked American Beauty" roses, who was surrounded by a number of people, all offering her boxes of candy and their audieus at the same moment. There were many young men of the party, and it made qaite a little crowd and a little scene as the iioal handshakes and farewells were given and taken. How very American," thought Sargent with a smile. The velvet dress, the hat, the candy, the roses—and the young men. There is nothing—absolutely nothing—left to the imagination. They have been giving her a send-off breakfast at Delmonico's, and, of oomse-oh, yes, of course—she's travelling by herself." This fact at least was evident as the little crowd, with many waved farewells, went in Indian file down the gangway, and the young lady, with her arms full of roses and card- board boxes, was left standing alone on the promenade deck. She'il probably be very vulgar and very amusing," said Sargent to him- self thoughtfully, choosing a fresh oigar as the steamer pushed swiftly down New York Harbour. A Westerner, I don't mind taking my oath. I shall speak to her to- morrow. After all, a fellow isn't bound to know people again when he gets back to New York." The first day out was superb. Everybody was up on deck, and rows of mummy-like figures, wrapped in far rugs and lying fall iength on steamer chairs, basked in the sun. exchanging views as to the probable length of the voyage. In February not even the swiftest ocean greyhound is sure of doing the trip within the week. George Sargent soanned the face of every" mummy" as he strode down the promenade deck, but the lady of the roses was not among them. The young man felt injured. Last night at dinner he had tnly seen her in the distance, for she was leated next to the captain's empty place, and ae was at quite a different table; but he had found out from the passenger list that her name was Grey-Miss Grey. And presently, although the ship was rolling heavily, a young figure in blue serge came staggering bravely along towards him, keeping her balance in a way which suggested a certain familiarity with the Atlantic. Just then the great ship gave an extra aideway dip, and the little figure in serge would have fallen. Sargent rushed forward. Oh, thank you t" said Miss Grey. Sargent seized the young lady by the elbow and steered her dexteriously to a vacant deck chair. You will find it perhaps nicer sitting down," he said, raising his hat. May I not fetch you a rug ?" Rugs on board ship serve the same time- honoured purpose as the salt at table d'hote or the window in a railway carriage. Sargent was not only permitted to fetch a rug from the saloon, but to tuck it around the graceful per- son of Miss Grey. She looked much nicer, he thought, in her blue serge suit, with a glimpse e crimson-Mlk shirt showing in the throat, than in yesterday's finery. Much more like an English girl, the young man said to himself. Like many Americans, Ser- gent's ideal of a woman was only to be found in London. Miss Grey won't be so nice as an English girl," he thought as he tucked the rug around her, but I dare say she'll be much more fun. As hard as nails, and will go any lengths. She will be engaged to me before we are out three days, and she will break it off at Euston Station, where some other fellow will turn up and claim her—I know the sort. You're keeping your roses, I see," he said, glancing at a superb crimson flower which was fastened in the girls jacket. Didn't you find the roses perfectly lovely in New York ? Do you get flowers like that in— in "In Omaha," suggested Miss Grey, with a awift, brilliant smile. It occurred to her at once that this Anglicized New Yorker took her for a denizen of the West, and she deter- mined not to undeceive him. Why,I should smile," abe continued; "our roses in Omaha are just perfectly elegant." "What an accent!" thought Sargent, with a shiver. "Great heavens, if my mothers and sisters could hear her But how pretty she is n hen she looks straight at you and laughs. How cheeky these girls are! No charming timidity, no blushing, no dropped eyelids. They're the weirdest mix- ture of schoolboy, philosopher, and flirt." "You New Yorkers," continued Miss Grey are just the queerest creatures. You run over all the time to Europe and don't begin to know anything about your own country. I call it real unpatriotic." George Sargent smiled a little fatuously. Nothing pleased him so mnch as to be taken for what he was, an Anglomaniao. And how > amusing, to be sure, these little Western girls were. He determined that on this voyage, where he bad none of his people with him, he would devote all his time to the study of this particular specimen. The days went by, pleasantly enough. Miss Grey proved to be a capital sailor, and on the roughest days Sargent was permitted to offer her an arm on her daily walk on the upper deck. Then they would sit side by side watching the huge indigo- coloured waves sweep by, or gazing at the brown masts ani rigging outlined against the pure transparent blue of the sky. The swish of water against the boat, the eternal, mono- tonous rocking from side to side, the same- ness of the hours, the faces, the long, smooth boards of the promenade deck, the great white boat which was swung in front of their steamer chairs—all these things combined Jiade them sleepy, idle, inconsequent. There was no doubt about it-MIS8 Grey iras a flirt, but she was a very discreet one. Though he was at her side morning and evening, Mr. George Sargent had obtained none of the favours which he had promised himself on the first morning out. If he had as much as touched her hand it was only to Help her downstairs, or when arranging her rag on moonlight nights on deck. Hang it all," he said to himself, the girl is one too muoh for me. A young woman from Omaha, and I haven't even kissed her yet Why, they all let people kiss them—in the comic papers. What about the Summer girl ?'— surely she ought to be all there on an "» Atlantic liner. The thing's a confounded sell and I'm getting quite fond of the girl—vil- lainous accent and all." Nothing amused him more than when she talJuat) Londou. Her curiosity on tihm. pomt was unbounded. She "guessed" that, above all things, she should like to meet a real lord—a real English lord. There was a girl in Omaha who had married an Italian prince; but Miss Grey, on her part, was of the opinion that the alliance had been emi- nently unsatisfactory, and there were even -itories afloat in Omaha that the bridegroom had onee been a waiter at Delmonico's. Such accidents could not happen if one contracted an alliance with an English peer. Did Mr. Sargent happen to number any English nobleman among his acquaintance ? Oh, I know one or two," said George, assuming a fine air of indifferenoe. I here's Tonbridge; he's a decent sort of chap. He was my fag at Eton, don't you know. Ton- bridge was always a bit of a fool, but as Eng- lishmen go he isn't bad. Why, if you'll give me your address in town I'll—I'll bring him to see you some afternoon." Miss Grey's eyes sparkled. Why, that will be just really lovely," she said, softly, and for the rest of the voyage she was very nice to the young man. And yet up to the last be could not make her out. Though she talked a good deal, it was prinoi- pally of Omaha, and he had to confess to him- self that she had told him very little. He had spoken of calling upon her, but he had to admit that she had never expressed a wish that he should do so. She was going to stay with some people in the country," that was all he could gather as to her plans, and yet be, the much-feted Mr. George Sar- gent, of New York, had never taken so much trouble to pJease any young woman in his life. All his theories as to the "summer girl" had been set at naught. This littlA Western miss bad known how to keep him at an aggravating distance for seven long days of lounging in a steamer ohair, for seven long evenings of moonlight walks and talks on the upper deck. And, as he reminded himself bitterly, he had not been wauting in enterprise. By the time they had landed in Liverpool the young man felt quite hurt. He lost sight of her for a time in the bustle of the Custom House and it was with a feeling of relief that he caught sight of Miss Grey's charming profile again in a railway carriage at Lime- street Station. May I see you up to town?'' he asked, jumping into the carriage, the yonng lady's brilliant smile obviously implying assent. "I may be of use to you while you are in London," said Mr. Sargent as the train thundered south: I should like you to say when you get back to Omaha that yoa had a good time over here." Bat it was not after all Mr. George Ser- pent who was destined to contribute—except indirectly-to the young lady's amusement while she was in London. As the train steamed into Euston Station a fair boy rushed for- ward to the carriage door. "Oh, Bertie! Have you come P". cried Miss Grey, while her companion ejaculated, Tonbridge! Hullo 1" shouted the fair young man, You two been over in the same steamer ? What a lark Then I needn't introduce you to Miss Dering-Grey, old man ? Been having a high old time in Washington this winter, eh, Gwen ? And have you pioked up the real Yankee twang ?" Oh, yes, I think I have," replied the girl, laughing in a soft English way. "Why, 1 can do it so well now that Mr. Sargent mis- took me for a girl from the West. I was always good at picking up an accent, you know. And—and—it's been such fun George Sargent had grown crimson from forehead to chin. Dering-Grey The name was familiar over two continents. The girl's mother was one of the most beautiful women in England; her brother was one of the British secretaries at Washington. And here was Tonbridge on the most intimate terms with a girl whom Sargent had been alternately patronising and making love to, and who had turned out to be one of the smartest young women in London. His annoyance increased when he found that Lord Tonbridge was to oonvey his fellow traveller in the Dering-Grey's oarriage alone to Grosvenor-square. Ta-ta, old chap," said Tonbridge. We shall all meet again at Tonbridge at the end of the week. Miss Dering-Grey's coming down, of course. In fact, you know, we're engaged." "I—I oocgratalate you. old fellow, I'm sure, said Sargent, forcing a smile. There was an empty feeling in the station when the carriage drove off. Sargent betook himself to a hotel and, after dinner, indited a brief letter to his Eton fag. It was to the effect that an urgent telegram from New York demanded his immediate return, so that, after all, he should be unable to join in the festi- vities of his friend's coming of age- He did' not mention in the note that he was afraid of the fine smile of the fature Countess of Ton- bridge.—Exchange.

THE BURGLARY SCARE AT CARDIFF.

THE DEAN OF LLANDAFF.

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A GERMAN IRONMASTER AND HIS…

ALARMING ACCIDENT AT A REGATTA.

| THE LABOUCHERE INCIDENT.

LONDON DOCKS AND WORKMEN^

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THE GOVERNMENT AND WELSH DISESTABLISHMENT,

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