A Sportsman 225 



noted the steadfast gaze of a matronly and fashionably- 

 attired lady, who beckoned me to her side, but whom 

 I failed to recognize, until with her hand extended she 

 said, "Do you not remember me?" and then I saw it 

 was Jane. I recognized then the abvmdant traces of 

 her former beauty, not yet eclipsed by ravages of time; 

 the still radiant cerulean eye, the yet unfaded golden 

 hair, the expression of sprightliness, the soft, pleasant 

 voice, which, when once possessed, never fails. It was 

 Jane. She told me of the death of the lamented Ash- 

 berry; of her three children, one of whom, a daughter, 

 was of surprising beauty and attractiveness and of 

 whom I had heard repeated mention in connection with 

 the bevy of fascinating American girls in London, little 

 imagining she was the daughter of Jane. In fact, she 

 was credited with having inspired a hopless passion in 

 the heart of a royal prince. 



And Jane had perfected herself in accomplishments 

 in such surprising degree that she had become an ele- 

 ment in London society, and I was surprised to hear 

 of the exalted and exclusive class she moved in, and 

 her familiarity with members of the royal family and 

 her associates were of astonishment to me. This was 

 the last time I ever saw Jane. 



Another case of this character within my observa- 

 tion was that of her whom I will designate as Miss Fran- 

 ces Carroll, a young lady of remarkable beauty and 

 character, who arose from a comparatively humble posi- 

 tion to one of considerable prominence. She was the 

 daughter of a retired and somewhat financially de- 

 pressed merchant of Boston. Particularly fond of 

 skating, I frequented in the season for such recreation 

 the Back Bay area of the city, now filled in and built 



