Is he after all a liar? Or is he merely a remarkable coincidence? * * * * * In June or July, 1874, I published the foregoing sketch in a little monthly magazine printed in an obscure college town in Illinois, which had a circulation of only a few hundred copies, and lived just five months in all. It was called the _Midland Monthly Magazine_, and was issued by a student in the college at Monmouth, Illinois. Everything that related to Russell was sure in some way to blossom out with all sorts of strange coincidences. This did so. In spite of the obscure way in which my account of the man was published, I had no doubt whatever that it would sooner or later result in some new revelation of or concerning him. It did so, of course. The obscure student’s magazine somehow found its way to Bordentown, New Jersey, and into the hands of an editor there. The editor was impressed by the story and reprinted it. It thus fell into the hands of the Reverend Lansing Burroughs, pastor of the First Baptist Church of that town, and late captain of Confederate States Artillery. I was not surprised when I received from the Reverend Lansing Burroughs, etc., the following letter:-- BORDENTOWN, N. J., Sept. 5, 1874. MY DEAR SIR: I have just finished reading a sketch published over your name (copied from somewhere, I suppose) in our local paper, entitled “Who is Russell?” It petrifies me with astonishment. For thirteen years past the question which has bothered me most seriously has been, “Who is Russell?” alias “Wallace,” alias “Wintermute,” for by all these and some other names have I known the mysterious individual. If you have been writing only a fancy sketch, I must tackle one of the strangest problems in mental philosophy. If your story is one of experience, then must I see you and compare notes. I fancy I can horrify you with the story of what Russell once told me had been his history.... Yours very truly, LANSING BURROUGHS, _Pastor of the First Baptist Church, Bordentown, N. J. Late captain Confederate States Artillery_. Now it was just like Russell that an account of him, published in a short-lived magazine, of a purely local circulation, out in Illinois, should in some inscrutable way have fallen into the hands of the editor of a little country paper in New Jersey; that this editor should have copied it into his paper; and that one of his readers should happen to be the one other man in existence who was puzzling over the questions with which the sketch ended.