“Among the rest, an American letter. From the tramp, of course. Jove, but here’s a change! No brown paper envelope this time, filched from a shop, and carrying the shop’s advertisement in the corner. Oh, no, a proper enough envelope—with a most ostentatiously broad mourning border—for his cat, perhaps, since he was a bachelor—and fastened with red wax—a batch of it as big as a half-crown—and—and—our crest for a seal!—motto and all. And the ignorant, sprawling hand is gone; he sports a secretary, evidently—a secretary with a most confident swing and flourish to his pen. Oh indeed, our fortunes are improving over there—our meek tramp has undergone a metamorphosis.” “Read it, my lord, please.” “Yes, this time I will. For the sake of the cat:” 14,042 SIXTEENTH. STREET, WASHINGTON, May 2. _My Lord_— It is my painful duty to announce to you that the head of our illustrious house is no more—The Right Honourable, The Most Noble, The Most Puissant Simon Lathers Lord Rossmore having departed this life (“Gone at last—this is unspeakably precious news, my son,”) at his seat in the environs of the hamlet of Duffy’s Corners in the grand old State of Arkansas,—and his twin brother with him, both being crushed by a log at a smoke-house-raising, owing to carelessness on the part of all present, referable to over-confidence and gaiety induced by overplus of sour-mash—(“Extolled be sour-mash, whatever that may be, eh Berkeley?”) five days ago, with no scion of our ancient race present to close his eyes and inter him with the honors due his historic name and lofty rank—in fact, he is on the ice yet, him and his brother—friends took up a collection for it. But I shall take immediate occasion to have their noble remains shipped to you (“Great heavens!”) for interment, with due ceremonies and solemnities, in the family vault or mausoleum of our house. Meantime I shall put up a pair of hatchments on my house-front, and you will of course do the same at your several seats. I have also to remind you that by this sad disaster I as sole heir, inherit and become seized of all the titles, honors, lands, and goods of our lamented relative, and must of necessity, painful as the duty is, shortly require at the bar of the Lords restitution of these dignities and properties, now illegally enjoyed by your titular lordship. With assurance of my distinguished consideration and warm cousinly regard, I remain Your titular lordship’s Most obedient servant, _Mulberry Sellers Earl Rossmore_. “Im-mense! Come, this one’s interesting. Why, Berkeley, his breezy impudence is—is—why, it’s colossal, it’s sublime.” “No, this one doesn’t seem to cringe much.”