Here is a romance with all the beauty in it - and all the sentiment left out,. It is a pretty story, aud comes from Vienna, losins nothing on the way: A few days ago a young and poorlvclad girl entered a barber'a shop in Vienna, and told the propiïetor that he must "buy her hair." The frisenrs examined her long, glossy rhestnut locks. and began to bargain. He conld give eight gulden, and no more. Huir was plenty this year, the ruice had fallen, there was less deniand, nud otber phrases of the kind. The little maid en's eyes filled with tears, and she hesitated a moment whüp threadm? her fingers throngli her chestnut loeks. Sht fiually threw herself into a chair. "Take it quickly," she gasped. The barber satisfled with his bargain. was abont to clinch it with his shears. when a geutlemnn who sat hulf-shaved, looking on, told him to stop. "My cbild," he said, "why do yon want to sell your beantifiil hair?" "My motlier bus been nearly fivr months ill ; I enn't work enongh t support ns ; everything lias bten soh' or jiawned, and there is not a penny ii the house." "No, no, my ohild," said the stran ger, "if that is the case I will bny youi hair, and I will give you a huudreci gulden for it." He gave the poor girl the note, the sight of wliich had dried her tears, am; took up the barbei's shtars. Takinp the locks in his hand, he took the long est hair, cut it off alone, and put il carefully in his pocket-book, thus paying one hundred flurins, nearly ñíí dollars for a single hair. He took the pirl's addresa, in case h should waut to buy auother ut the saui' ra te. The charitable man is only designa! ed as the chief of a greut iuüustrial euterprise witliin the city.