mystically at every exhibition? Her last appearance, as you know, was before a crowded audience. The next evening, — although the bills had announced her, at the corner of every street, in red letters of a gigantic size, — there was no Veiled Lady to be seen!

Now, listen to my simple little tale, and you shall hear the very latest incident in the known life — (if life it may be called, which seemed to have no more reality than the candle-light image of one’s self which peeps at us outside of a dark windowpane) — the life of this shadowy phenomenon.

A party of young gentlemen, you are to understand, were enjoying themselves, one afternoon, — as young gentlemen are sometimes fond of doing, — over a bottle or two of champagne; and, among