Roxy Hastings — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ROXY HASTINGS. CHAPTER I. IMPRISONED IN. THE VAULT. At four o’clock on an autumnal afternoon, a few years | y ago, one of the banks of the city of New York was the scene of an event of extraordinary interest, and one which threw the frequent monetary excitements of those temples of Mammon quite into the shade. Business hours were nearly over, and only a few clerks were lingering at their desks, when a beautiful girl, of about fourteen years, walked trippingly into the bank, and inquired for her father, the cashier. _ Gone, Carry,” was the reply of the receiving teller, a slight young man, who was bending under the weight of a heavy tray of gold and silver coin, which he was in the’ -act of carrying to the vault, and whose large dark eyes grew brighter at the sight of the fair girl. ‘‘Gone, but he will return for a moment before starting for home. I ex- _ pect him back every minute.” “Oh, Iam so glad that Iam not too late,” replied Caro- line, following with childish curiosity the young man to _ the door of the vault, and looking in, while he entered and deposited his specie in a safe which stood in one corner of the iron room. — “What a dreadful place! Is this where you keep all your money ?” “ All our treasures of every kind. Won’t you walk in?” A sudden thought seemed to strike the girl, who clapped her hands and said : Eomicbhoo cS (ale) m