In the second collection, relating to Poland, I found the following: Six orders in Russian and three in French, requesting somebody to send by “Jean” sums of money, varying from two to eight hundred rubles. These orders were in the same hand, and all signed “Y.” A charming letter in French, addressed “cher ami,” and declining, in the most delicate and tender way, an offer of marriage made to the sister of the writer, of whose signature only “Amelie de” remained, the family name having been torn off. A few memoranda of expenses, one of which was curious: “Dinner with Jean, 58 rubles;” and immediately after it: “Doctor, 10 rubles.” There were, moreover, a leaf torn out of a journal, and half of a note which had been torn down the middle, both implicating “Jean” in some way with the fortunes of the dead man. The papers belonging to the American phase, so far as they were to be identified by dates, or by some internal evidence, were fewer, but even more enigmatical in character. The principal one was a list of addresses in New York, divided into sections, the street boundaries of which were given. There were no names, but some of the addresses were marked +, and others?, and a few had been crossed out with a pencil. Then there were some leaves of a journal of diet and bodily symptoms, of a very singular character; three fragments of drafts of letters, in pencil, one of them commencing, “Dog and villain!” and a single note of “Began work, September 10th, 1865.” This was about a year before his death. The date of the diploma given by the gymnasium at Breslau was June 27, 1855, and the first date in Poland was May 3, 1861. Belonging to the time between these two periods there were only the order for the ring (1858), and a little memorandum in pencil, dated “Posen, Dec., 1859.” The last date in Poland was March 18, 1863, and the permit to embark at Bremen was dated in October of that year. Here, at least, was a slight chronological framework. The physician who attended the county almshouse had estimated the man's age at thirty, which, supposing him to have been nineteen at the time of receiving the diploma, confirmed the dates to that extent. I assumed, at the start, that the name which had been so carefully cut out of all the documents was the man's own. The “Elise” of the letters was therefore his sister. The first two letters related merely to “mother's health,” and similar details, from which it was impossible to extract any thing, except that the sister was in some kind of service. The second letter closed with: “I have enough work to do, but I keep well. Forget thy disappointment so far as _I_ am concerned, for I never expected any thing; I don't know why, but I never did.”