Now, I am not a man to jump at rash conclusions. The address, of course, was one that might be found in almost any city; but as it happened to be mine in Masonburg, and as my name was not a common one, to say the least, the letter seemed so clearly meant for me that I should have taken it without compunction, could I have done so unobserved. But the merchant never left me for a moment, and though most amiable I gave him credit for too much good sense to deliver a sealed communication on the unsupported statement of a perfect stranger; for I had left my card-case in my satchel at the station, and as I am a bachelor my linen is unmarked. However the letter came to be there, it was evident that I should have to exercise diplomacy to gain possession of my own. And so, continuing our circuit of the shop, I weighed the matter nicely. My final resolution was, I shall always think, little short of inspiration. We had reached an ancient rosewood wardrobe of enormous size and hideous design before I found the opportunity to put my plan in operation. "Ah! this is something I should like to own," I cried, "provided that my new rooms are large enough to hold it. And," I added carelessly, "perhaps you can direct me to the address"--I feigned to consult a memorandum--"109 South Ninth Street." The worthy dealer turned on me a look of half-amused surprise. "That's here," he said--"right here, this street and house." "Indeed!" I cried, though I had not been wholly unprepared for such an answer. "That's really odd! for this, my dear sir, is the very place where I was told to seek lodgings." "There must be some mistake," replied the dealer civilly; "for as it is the house is too small to accommodate my family." At this I must have feigned the signs of extreme annoyance rather cleverly; for the dealer joined in condemnation of officious friends in general, and especially of one McPherson, a second auditor, who had so misled me. "That ass McPherson," I explained, "has put me to the greatest inconvenience! For, feeling certain of the rooms, I have actually given this address to correspondents. But," I hastened to assure my courteous listener, "I shall, of course, write at once and save you any trouble on that score. Please save the wardrobe for a day or two. My name is Josiah Brunson Dykefellow." As I pronounced each syllable with distinctness, I could perceive the dealer's kindly face expand with pleasure. "Why, Mr. Dykefellow!" he exclaimed, "a letter came for you this morning. I was about to return it to the carrier. Here it is."