the moment, a great grief expressed in a single human interjec- | ful, at least cautious. The great Jeckyll held him in the palm tion, at least apparently.

Mr. Ferret looked up at Mr. Jeckyll furtively, with a sort of diagonal inquisitiveness in his small, cunning eyes. Mr. Ferret, in the course of his whole professional experience, had never looked at anybody directly. His glances always seemed to fly off at a tangent from the side of his head.

"Well," repeated Ferret, still half interrogatively, and with an expression that said, or might have said, if Mr. Jeckyll had peered sharply into his face, "I'd like to know exactly what you mean, Mr. Jeckyll."

of his hand; and if, by any means or for any reason, Jeckyll should turn his palm, the doctor would drop to perdition-a fact the validity of which the patron took frequent occasion to strengthen and impress on the mind of the doctor.

As Mr. Jeckyll walked up and down in his Fifth Avenue parlor, the problem in his mind was very simple. The plot was very clear. Motive: the late Mr. Vancouver's two millions. The late Mr. Vancouver had been nothing, per se, not even an exclamation point, but rather a parenthesis enclosing a two with six ciphers. Had that gentleman been anything more than the two millions he represented, or enclosed in parenthesis from the rest of the world, he would have seen through Mr. Banker Jeckyll. To unearth the two millions, which, by will, Mr. Vancouver had buried in a strong box, represented by Ida Vancouver, his legal heir, Mr. Jeckyll had two tools. One tool, that is, Doctor Quackenbush, knew what it was about, but was quiescent and pliable, as a tool should be. The other, Mr. De

There was an expression in the banker's face that reassured him. The expression said, as plainly as words could have said it, "Let Ida Vancouver make way with herself if she will, and be sure not to interrupt her, should you find her movements indicative of that intention." That is, Mr. Jeckyll sent an optical telegram to that effect to Mr. Ferret, and Mr. Ferret returned the telegram, "I understand, sir," in the same optical way. Thus far Mr. Jeckyll committed himself, that is, optically--be-tective Ferret, suspected, but did not know; and time never ing quite aware that if it ever came to the worst, the exact terms of an optical telegram could not be sworn to in court. "A cool thousand, Ferret, if you bring news within six hours. I shall be up all night; I'm so worried, you know, about poor Ida."

It was a palace of filigree in brownstone, facing other palaces of filigree in brownstone quite as expensive. Mr. Ferret had gone, repeating as he went:

"A cool thousand for a night's work; Jeckyll has motives that it would pay me a cool ten thousand to be able to put my finger on."

Mr. Jeckyll walked up and down, and talked intervally. "Curse the creature!-curse the creature! She was always in the way that bantling of my dead sister. They think she's mad, all the neighbors, and fool I have been not to have had her housed at Bloomingdale. I hadn't an idea she'd get away, however, particularly at this hour of the night; and it looks as if she meant to make way with herself."

was when cash could not allay a mere suspicion.

For several years the solution of this problem had occupied the attention of Mr. Jeckyll even during banking hours. It was the X after which he toiled and struggled.

At seventeen, Ida Vancouver had become intimate with William Hamilton, a young specimen of legal anatomy. The stern guardian had forbidden Hamilton to enter the house, and from that date the young lady had been gradually going mad. So ran the rumor, and most people believed-for Banker Jeckyll was influential, as incarnate hard cash is apt to be. There is a certain divinity in cash, especially in Fifth Avenue circles, and Mr. Jeckyll was the divinity incarnate.

No true believer in cash ever doubts its essential divinity; and thus Mr. Jeckyll, not as Mr. Jeckyll per se, but as cash incarnate, was influential, and everybody said, "Poor Miss Vancouver! what a pity !—and how kind Mr. Jeckyll is, not to send her to an asylum !”

Mr. Hamilton was conceited-not more so than men usually

Jeckyll walked up and down, then stopped suddenly, laugh- are--but conceited enough, nevertheless, to believe that Miss ing self-congratulatively, and interjected:

"Fool Ferret is, not to see through me!"

Vancouver had gone mad on his account. It was so romantic to think so; and, for the sake of the romance, Mr. Hamilton

Mr. Detective Ferret had at that very instant elicited his clue, was enabled to bear his loss with pathetic resignation. It was one and was in pursuit of his game.

"It was a mental malady," Mr. Jeckyll said, and so said physician and attendants. Her poor mother used to have turns," went on Jeckyll; "but the late Mr. Vancouver always took great pains to conceal it."

Then, too, Mr. Jeckyll was so considerate-so sympathetic. "I can't have the heart to send her to an asylum," he used to say to the neighbors, in his grief-stricken way. "She's my

own sister's daughter-the only relative I have in the world; and, if she is violent sometimes, so long as I have a dollar she shall be taken care of at home.''

The neighbors gossiped, "How generous in Mr. Jeckyll!" though there were those who whispered suspicions, and were scouted for doing so.

Mr. Jeckyll had been at considerable expense to have the back parlor on the second floor padded carefully, so that Miss Vancouver could not possibly barm herself, and attendants were constantly on the alert to see that she did not. Good, stupid creatures they were, who worshiped the great Jeckyll, and interpreted Miss Vancouver's frantic implorations as so many evidences of insanity so many times repeated-for, for Mr. Jeckyll's purpose, stupidity was just as available as rascality, and a great deal safer. The doctor knew, of course; but Mr. Jeckyll had set him up in business, and had only to mention certain little professional delinquencies of his to send him to Sing Sing. Doctor Quackenbush was accordingly grateful, or, if not grate

o'clock at night when Ferret pulled the bell at the door of the Fifth Avenue palace. Three hundred iron tongues, in as many quarters of the city, had almost simultaneously clanged one, and the million-mouthed metropolis was sound asleep. Its two million eyes, with here and there a pair of exceptions, were shut in slumber; and Mr. Ferret had not the slightest suspicion that Miss Vancouver's two blue eyes were among the exceptions.

Ferret was admitted, with a shawl under his arm that Jeckyll identified. He had traced Miss Vancouver to the pier, but had not been in time to prevent the accident. Here he sent an optical telegram to Mr. Jeckyll, which questioned, "Have I done right?" Mr. Jeckyll, by optical telegram, answered, "Yes." and the conversation went on, the latter dispensing the promised thousand.

The detective had seen Miss Vancouver drop from the pier ; had heard the plash; had picked up the evidence of her identity. There was no doubt as to the fact-Miss Vancouver was dead, and might be carried to the Morgue any day, having been cast up by the sea for identification. So reasoned Mr. Jeckyll, secretly resolving to keep an eye on the Morgue, and, in instance of Miss Vancouver's body being picked up, to identify it, and impress the public with magnificent obsequies.

"The effect," argued the banker, internally-" the effect on the circle in which I move will be worth the trouble." The banker carried out his resolution, but in vain. The opportunity for the magnicent funeral was never presented. At about the same hour of the night that Mr. Ferret, as committee of investigation, had reported progress, a young woman appeared at the stationhouse and solicited lodging.

"What name?" demanded the sleepy sergeant, turning, pen in hand, to the register.

"For the night, nameless," rejoined a voice in which sweetness and culture were harmoniously blended.

The sergeant peered curiously into the face of his visitor. It was pallid as alabaster, encircled with a turban of golden hair. There were no vestiges of dissipation in it; but there was an imploring expression in the blue eyes that was almost audible. "Excuse me, madame, it's the rule," rejoined the functionary, having taken his notes. "I'll call the captain."

His sleep broken in upon, the captain was not in the most amiable of humors, and appeared, alternately rubbing his eyes and cursing the stupidity of the sergeant.

"I'm sure when you see her," rejoined the latter, in answer to curses enough to have filled a volume-"I'm sure when you see her you'll agree that she oughtn't to be herded with the rest of them."

The sergeant stated the fact that madame did not wish to register.

"Who are you?" demanded the captain, gruffly, though a trifle mollified by the elegance and breeding of his subject. Though not in street-costume, she was dressed with the nameless elegance of something more than taste. A single gem shot spears of fire from a single finger; but, with this exception, no jewelry was visible.

crawled, as it were, from slumber, with a weary "Oh, dear!"' Some kicked themselves loose, as if drowse were something to be expelled with gymnastics. Some got up to get breakfast, and others to eat it; and some got up neither to get breakfast nor to eat it, having no commissariat. But, one by one, all in their individual ways and for their individual purposes, the million mouths and bodies of the metropolis waked up, until, at ten o'clock, the whole vast city was, collectively and individually, awake-the four actors in the drama enacted the night previous being included. So, in one way and another, beginning at the top and bottom, the seven layers of humanity constituting the seven stories of the shell of the great city, found themselves all awake, with the exception of the small per centage whom the last sleep had overtaken, and who were provided with permanent lodgings suited to their condition at the earliest convenience of the rest; and, layer after layer having regained its perpendicular, went pouring into streets and byways, and surged up and down and to and fro like rivers, every individual constituting a separate and very unmanageable wave; which tributary rivers emptying into the great middle river, Broadway, as early as eleven o'clock that stream of humanity was so swollen as to render attempt at navigation ex

"For the night let me be nameless," pleaded the same sweetly pathetic voice. The voice more than all things else in-tremely hazardous. terprets the inmost individuality.

"I am at your service, madame," began the captain, stirred to sympathy by the pathetic magnetism of the intonation. "How can I serve you?"

The captain spoke dreamily, and like one half in reverie, as if ruminating whether a bewildered angel might not by accident have stumbled into the stationhouse for a night's lodging.

"Only a night's lodging," went on the voice, with the same pathetic magnetism of intonation, while the two functionaries looked as if they momentarily expected to see a couple of wings spring from the splendid shoulders of the applicant.

The two functionaries held a brief consultation. Apparently they came to a conclusion, and the captain reopened the conversation.

"Sergeant Jeems will take you to his residence for the night, madame, and Mrs. Jeems will see that you are supplied with lodging and breakfast. It's no place for one like you in the stationhouse."

The pathetic blue eyes looked thanks, and the lips murmured something inaudible, that, as thanks, the captain interpreted.

The two-the sergeant and the captain's angel incognitothreaded the streets that weave in a network over the body of the metropolis, and in half an hour the wanderer found herself in a tidily-furnished room, under the guardianship of Mrs. Jeems.

Three hundred bells, in as many quarters of the city, clanged three. Banker Jeckyll was asleep, and his dream was of the Vancouver two millions, intermingled with a certain regret that, for the sake of effect, a couple of thousands must be counted out for funeral expenses.

Detective Ferret slumbered uneasily. The earning of a cool thousand so suddenly had unsettled his nerves. William Hamilton, attorney and counselor at law, was dreaming of coming cases, in which his reputation was to be made; and, in the little room at the house of Sergeant Jeems, slumbered the late applicant for a night's lodging. Poor thing! she dreamed of that conceited Hamilton. As to Doctor Quackenbush, in his dreams a mesh seemed to be woven about him, and, in weird nightmare, throttled with its cords, he broke loose from slumber to find them visionary.

So went on the night, and the three hundred bells, in as many quarters of the city, clanged four, and five, and six, and the day dawned, and New York began to wake up here and there a little-those who sleep in basements or in attics beginning the process.

The two million eyes of the great metropolis opened in pairs, one after another. Hundreds of mouths yawned at the same exact instant. Some woke up gradually, as if slumber had been their normal condition. Others started suddenly into wakefulness, leaping the border-land at a single leap, and knowing nothing of that delicious half state, which is drowse. Some

Banker Jeckyll started from slumber interjectionally, as was his wont, at half past eight o'clock, pulled the bell with an exclamation point in the way he pulled it, and, an attendant appearing, interjected the word "Coffee!" In his own mind, he was at that very moment examining the most imposing way of expressing two millions. The conception at last, after considcrable rumination, framed itself in figures, picketed with exclamation points at one end, and preceded with the cabalistic sign for dollars, thus, $2,000,000 ! ! ! ! ! ! This two millions was now in possession of Mr. Jeckyll, with nobody to claim it. That little tragedy at the pier had left him master of a fortune and a Fifth Avenue palace. "The bantling," said the old man to himself internally, "is out of the way."

Very grief-striken was the banker externally that morning, and with what magnificent dramatic effects of pathos did he recount the news! He was actually an exclamation point in tears.

Twelve o'clock by the City Hall clock. Three hundred bells clanged noon; three hundred whistles, or thereabouts, hooted noon, with a long, breathless hoot.

A young lady entered a drugstore on Broadway, and begged permission to look at the city directory. Turning over the leaves, she studied the Hamilton columns long and patiently. Having found William Hamilton, attorney and counselor at law, she seemed carefully to note number and street, as if to remember it.

At half past twelve the same lady entered one of the great Broadway catacombs, and studied her way to the office of William Hamilton.

"Was Mr. Hamilton in ?'"'

"Mr. Hamilton was in, but engaged," suggested the gentlemanly partner.

"Would the gentleman be so kind as to take a card to Mr. Hamilton?"

With pleasure."

The visitant scribbles her name on an office card, which the gentlemanly partner, begging her to be seated, takes to the inner sanctum.

Lady's card, sir. She's waiting for an interview." Mr. Hamilton glances at the name, and a cadaverous pallor overspreads his face with a sudden wave. The quickness with which he becomes disengaged is marvelous.

"I'll see her immediately," gasps Mr. Hamilton, spasmodically, and the partner disappears to escort the visitant to the

inner office.

"Mr. Hamilton will see you at once. This way, madame," and the two, three years separated, are face to face.

The explanation that ensues is neither complimentary to Mr. Hamilton's acumen nor to his vanity; but he bears it in consideration of the Vancouver two millions and a Mrs. Hamilton whose sanity is unquestionable.

out sixty thousand pints a day to the French troops in 1809. The abbey was built by the architect Prandauer, and contains three hundred and sixty-five windows. From them the view is beautiful up the river toward Mariaferl and Vachlam, and down the river toward Schoembuchel, the fine ruins of the Castle of Aggstein and the Devil's Wall, a singular agglomeration of rocks.

"Somos Indias para que negarlo ?"-"We are Indians, what is the use of denying it?"

All are distinguished by a sweetness and amiability, combined with a modest timidity, that makes their conversation a sort of stammering. They live a very retired life, making few visits. The costume is that of the time of the viceroys, and retains the frightful saya angosta, or pollera apresiliada, which on one of the lower order, seen from behind, gives her the appearance of a huge black beetle. The fashionable ladies alone have renounced

AN OLD TURK AND HIS WIVES ON BOARD A STEAM- it. They affect the fashions of Paris, but of Paris of fifty years BOAT ON THE DANUBE. ago, and what they appear may be seen by our illustration.

OUR sketch shows Turkish ladies traveling. It is a sketch made on board a steamboat on the Danube. The old Turk sits on his carpet, without which no Turk ever journeys; his three wives lie or crouch near his feet. He looks at them kindly with his pale, enervated countenance, but what their charms may be you surmise in vain. You can form no idea of their age or figure. The close-drawn yashmak scarcely enables you to see the eyes, but those eyes are on the alert, and the artist having sketched a Servian lady and two fine little girls, the Turkish ladies were eager to see it when it had once passed to the Servian lady's hand.

THE WOMEN OF CUZCO.

THE TRUCKEE RIVER.

ONE of the surveyors on the Central Pacific Railroad declared, after the route for the iron horse was located, that the Truckee River was especially designed by nature for the accommodation of the company.

"We might have got down the mountains without it," said he; in fact, we don't care much for any mountains; but the Truckee River made it mighty handy for us to get out of the Sierras into the Nevada basin."

The Central Pacific Railway began from the California end, and was pushed eastward to the Sierra Nevadas. The river valleys were followed as much as possible; but long before reaching the summit, the surveyors were obliged to jump from one ravine and ridge to another, and pay little attention to streams. Gaining the summit, and working eastward, they were not long. in reaching the Truckee, and when once they struck it, they followed it as long as possible. True, its bed was rough, and there were many deep cuttings to be made along its banks; but, bad as it was, it was easier to follow than no river at all, and hence the remark of the engineer. The Truckee was a welcome stream to the emigrant in the old days of wagon-travel to Cali

THE Women of Cuzco (says a French traveler) are generally of dark complexion, of middle size, and tend to a fullness of figure. Among them the Indian type still predominates over the Spanish, as the qualities and faults of the native race reappear beneath the varnish of education which covers them. Still it would be a deadly insult to remind a Cuzco woman of her origin. All are ready to prove that they are Andalusian from head to foot, and if you are intimate in the family, the foot will be displayed as an evidence beyond dispute. The tiny shoe does, indeed, re-fornia, and many a wanderer has sleaked his thirst in its waters, call that province by its size, and would be a fitting slipper for Cinderella, but in ethnology slippers do not prove much. The women we allude to, it must be understood, are those from fifteen to forty-five. Those past the age of illusion say, frankly,

and thanked heaven that he was almost at his journey's end. The origin of the name of the stream is not altogether clear, but the most authentic history gives it to one of the earliest travelers who went overland in search of gold.