noticed, and at once he stopped as though struck by lightning. Directly before him there leaned against a great pile of bales a young, tall, slender maiden. Her right arm was thrust against the bales, the hand supporting her head. Her other arm hung at her side. Her face, of which he had only a side view, was so thin and pale that the long, dark eyelashes were brought out with singular distinctness. The lustrous black hair was wound around the head in comely braids, and her dress, though poor and threadbare enough, was more tasty than that of the other women, to whom she was evidently greatly superior in refinement. As though a powerful enchantment had seized him, Lambert could not withdraw his gaze from this face. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He had not thought that anything so beautiful could be found. Nearly breathless, without knowing what he was doing--even forgetting where he was--he looked at the stranger as though she were an apparition, until, with sad shaking of the head, she let her supporting arm fall and, passing around the pile of goods against which she had leaned, she disappeared from his sight. At this moment, back on the Battery, there sounded a great shouting and drumming and fifing. The crowd pressed forward, and was again pushed back. The police who accompanied the immigrants had already had trouble with the mob all the way through the city, and now, having to pass through the compact mass on the quay to the gang-plank, were obliged to use all their authority and to swing their clubs indiscriminately. So it happened that over the living wall before him Lambert saw now and then a pale, grief-stricken countenance, as the poor immigrants passed over the narrow gangway to the deck of the ship. Here those who had just returned on board immediately began to call for their wives and children, some of whom, overcome by fatigue, did not move, while others hastened to their husbands as soon as possible. A dreadful confusion arose, which was increased by the ship's crew rushing into the crowd and making room by pushing and striking indiscriminately. It had reached its highest point when those on the quay, headed by the stout Mr. Pitcher, in a close mass pushed on from behind and blocked up the way to every one who, with his bundles and packs, desired to leave the ship. The men screamed, the women cried, the children whimpered, the captain and sailors cursed and swore. The police swung their clubs. It was a dreadful chaos, in which Lambert's anxious glances were ever peering about for the poor girl who was looking on the tumult which was roaring around her, so lonely, so forsaken, so still and patient. As he saw her form again emerge, now on the forward part of the deck, he held back no longer. Without further thought, with a mighty spring from the edge of the quay, he swung himself aboard of the ship and hastened to the point where he had last seen her. He knew not why he did this. He