Not As Good As Her Ma

JNeariy everybody knows that the eccentric erupress of Austria carries her fondness for huntingf to suoh a pitch that up to recent vears she used to brave the terrible fits of mal de mer that are caused by the Irish channel for the sake of enjoying1 the superb hunting that can still be found in the Emerald isle - one free joy not yet hunted out of it by the ubiquitous and iniquitous Sassenach. Uut it is not generally known, says the New York Journal, that the first lady of the land in Austria is also a fancy rider, used to have a private arena, and when in playful mood would give exhibitions of equestrian skill to a select circle of more or less discreet friends. One day when her little daughter Stephanie was on a visit at the home of a noble in another part of the empire it occurred to her hosts that perhaps a circus that was performing in the neighborhood would aiïord the infant princess a novel delight. They took the child, and were astonished at the profound gravity with which her little eyes watched the performers leaping through hoops of colored paper, turning somersaults or riding two horses at once. "Well," said one at last, "what does our little princess think of it?" "ïsot much," replied the child, shaking her head sagely. "My macando those things a heap better." Then, with an air of profound conviction: "My mj'i a born circus rider." Imagine, if you can, Austria's etiquette, and then imagine the thrill of amazement aud horror which the child's remark produced.