The Cecil Whig

A LUCKY MISTAKE

Among the steerage passengers who drifted over to New York from Havre, a little while ago, was a young French girl named Louise Dumont. Her destination was Newark, Delaware, where she had a distant female relative living, in indigent circumstances, and, as she believed, the only surviving kin she had in the world. By some mistake, owing to her inability to understand the English language, she took a train on the Delaware, Lackawanna & Western Railroad, and got off at Newark. N. J. When she was informed of her error, she bought a ticket to return again to New York on the next train, but on account of a very remarkable occurrence she was induced to change her mind.

As the girl sat in the depot, downcast in spirits, alone in a strange land and almost penniless, visions of her home in " La Belle France" crossed her mind. She thought of her mother who had recently died, of her only brother who fell with his father as they fought side by side at the terrible battle of Saarbruck, and as she mused upon her past joys and present loneliness, she unconsciously toyed with a large gold locket that was suspended by a strong silver chain from her neck. while tears trickled down her cheeks. She was a brunette of the loveliest type, and her jet black, wavy hair was arranged with such exquisite taste that it made the broad, high forehead, expressive brown eyes, and graceful, full throat appear to the best advantage.

While Louise was abstractedly playing with her locket, there came into the depot a tall and handsome gentleman, about sixty years of age. He had something of a military bearing, and his countenance indicated intelligence and refinement. The girl's appearance immediately attracted his attention, and as he, too, was waiting for a train, he occupied the time in watching her. As he walked leisurely to and fro in the ladies' room, he came near to where the girl was sitting just as she opened the locket and revealed a well-known face that was the exact counterpart of a picture that he had at home in his library. It represented the Empress Josephine. the deceased wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. The gentleman immediately asked the girl, in good French, where she obtained the picture. She replied, with much simplicity:

" My mother gave it to me."

Requesting the favor of examining the locket, he took it in hand. and, with the greatest astonishment. read the following inscription:

"Josephine, to Hortense De Mirhabel 1812."

"My mother was a Mirhabel," said he scanning the beautiful French girl's features closely, "and," he added, as a light seemed to flash in upon his confused ideas, "she was a sister to Hortense De Mirhabel who, for some act of faithfulness to the unhappy Josephine, received this locket and portrait as a reward. My good girl who are you, anyhow ?'

The child then related her story-how her father and brother had been killed in battle, and that her mother had recently died; that she had committed her to the care of the only relative that she believed to be living. at Newark. Delaware.

The gentleman then being satisfied that the girl was his own niece, disclosed his own name, Victor Provost. He had escaped from prison when a young man, having been incarcerated by the Bourbons about the time of the sojourn of Louis Napoleon in America. He fled to this country and settled at Wilkesbarre, Pa., where he now lives in affluence. being interested in large coal and iron tracts in that locality. It is hardly necessary to state that the niece needed but little persuasion to accompany her uncle home. The romance of her story is increased by the fact that Mr. Provost has a son, who is a very promising young man, and that he immediately became fascinated with his newly-found cousin. The old gentleman is in ecstacy at the turn things have taken, and has resolved that his son shall marry the girl on New Year's Day. Of course young Provost has accepted this proposition with much joy, and orders for a magnificent bridal trousseau are now being filled by various parties in New York. for the fortunate girl who. but a little more than a week ago, was a penniless steerage passenger in an emigrant ship.