The Jewess and the Prince.

Observer, Volume X, Issue 604, 31 January 1891, Page 4

The Jewess and the Prince.

Does anyone know the heroine of the following entertaining yarn about a lady whose name is given as Sarah ! s , a Jewess, and who is now married to a Mr Charles P.? The story is told by Mr Phil Goateher, a scenic artist, who first practised his art in our fair city of Auckland, and he tells it well, thus: A rehearsal was in progress for a private theatrical performance, given by the Governor of New Zealand in Auckland, in honour of the Duke of Edinburgh, and I was making my way through the same passage by which the Prince had passed on his way to the stage when, in the dark, close to the back door, I was suddenly embraced by a willowy young woman, who kissed me passionately and exclaimed : ' Oh ! I am so lonely without your Royal Highness ; do let me stay with you.' She continued to smother me with her soft, warm kisses for several minutes, then hung her head, with its wealth of long, flowing hair upon my breast. I did not make the slightest objection, and supported her as best I could till an attendant came along with a lamp, when she released me with a cry of surprise. The light lit up one of the most beautiful faces I ever saw. She was the mysterious Jewess who fell violently in love with the duke, and had embraced the wrong man. Every feature of that remarkable face fixed itself firmly on my mind, although she disappeared immediately, and did not return for a rehearsal of the squeezing and kissing programme. Yet I was satisfied I would know her should we ever meet again. Well, long years afterwards, when in New York, I was asked to dine with my friend, Charles P , the musician. Just as we were sitting down to dinner he introduced me to his wife. She started a little and looked me searchingly in the face. I fancied I had met her before, but oould not fix the time and place. It was very clear we were both somewhat upset, for our appetites were far from keen. After dinner we had an opportunity of chatting together in the drawing-room, when she whispered that she had met me before. I felt that she was right, and asked her where. She blushingly replied at Auckland, New Zealand, and that she was none other than the mysterious Jewess who had embraced me in mistake for the Duke of Edinburgh on the night of the ♦ Hamlet ' rehearsal. It is said that Mrs P.'s father was a piano-player before he became a bookmaker. He used to whang the ivories in artistic style in an Ararat dance-room during the old digging days.