But the _Echo!_ Besides the poster which Joy had shown me, it published two pages of portraits framed in medallion miniatures of celebrated beauties with whom it compared me, making me surpass the loveliest women of history and legend, from Helen of Troy to the reigning music hall performer. And, with a shock of surprise, I not only saw in the pictures the dress I had worn and the theatrical things the deferential artist had loaned me to pose in, but in the article appeared every word I had said to him; and the skill with which fact, fiction, clever conjecture and picturesque description had been stirred into the sweetened batter that Cadge calls a "first-rate delirious yellow style" was maddening. This is the beginning of the stuff:-- CHAPTER I. A PRAIRIE BUD. So fair that, had you Beauty's picture took, It must like her or not like Beauty look. --ALEYN'S HENRY VII. A Western Wild Rose! As sweet! As perfect! By all who have seen her, Helen Winship is pronounced the most beautiful of women. Last Monday night, at the Opera House, a great audience paid her such spontaneous tribute as never before was offered human being. At the sight of a young girl, trembling and blushing, staid citizens were lifted to their feet by an irresistible wave of enthusiasm. Not for anything this girl has done, though Science will hear from her; not for her voice, though no nightingale sings so melodiously; but for a face more glorious than that other Helen's, "Whose beauty summoned Greece to arms and drew a thousand ships to Tenedos." This modern Helen is a niece of Judge Timothy Baker, at whose residence, No. -- East Seventy-second Street, she is staying. The Judge and his family are reticent concerning their lovely guest, of whom the _Echo_ presents the first authentic picture. Miss Winship cannot be described. Artists say that by their stern canons she is a perfect woman. Her beauty is that of flawless health and a hitherto unknown physical perfection. She is cast in Goddess mould. The loose, flowing robe of her daily wear is of classic grace and dignity. Tall as the Venus of Milo, she incarnates that noble figure with a lightness and a purity virginal and modern. She is neither blonde nor brunette; of a type essentially American, she has glorious eyes and for her smile a man would lose his head. It is a fact for students of heredity and environment to consider that Miss Winship is not a product of the cities. Jasper M. Winship, her father, is a bonanza farmer. Mrs. Winship was in her youth the belle of prairie dances, and still has remarkable beauty. Born of pioneer stock, baby Helen was reared to a life of freedom; learning what she knew of grandeur from the sky and of luxury from the lap of Mother Earth. Child of the sunshine and sweet air, she danced with the butterflies, as innocent as they of cramping clothing that would distort her body, or of city conventionalities that might warp her mind.