G. STAHLMANN.” What remains is soon told. A few inquiries in the proper direction revealed that on the morning of the first of May, 1868, when the tug boat from Chicago made its usual trip to the Crib to supply provisions, the dog was discovered dead upon the floor, and near by—just to the right of the entrance, and about ten feet distant from it—hung the dead body of Gustav Stahlmann, suspended by the neck from one of the rafters. It was at once cut down and the Coroner quietly notified. Among his few effects was found the memorandum book which so curiously came into my possession. The authorities were in no way to blame for this unfortunate occurrence. On that day they placed several persons in charge of this lonely structure and have changed them at regular intervals ever since. Because if the circumstance were known, they were fearful they could get no one to fill the situation, either on account of the solitude or from the fact that many persons are afraid to live in a house that has been the scene of a suicide—they wisely concluded to say nothing whatever about the melancholy event, and, as I said before, few persons in the city are acquainted with its details. [Illustration] PROF. KELLERMANN’S FUNERAL. It had snowed persistently all day, and now, at night, the wind had risen and blew in furious gusts against the windows, a bleak December gale. The Professor tramped steadily up and down his floor, up and down his floor, from wall to wall and back again. It was not a cheerful room; with but one strip of carpet, a chair or two, a table and bedstead, and one dim tallow candle, flickering in a vain struggle to give any thing better than a sickly light, which was afflicted, at uncertain intervals, with violent convulsions. No, it was not a pleasant place, for the Professor was poor, and lived a lonely, hermit-like life in the heart of the great German city. He had no relations—no friends. He was not a popular man, though he had once been well known, and the public had all applauded his great scholarship. His books, one after another, as they came out, if they brought him no money, had brought him some fame then; but the last one had appeared years ago, and been commented upon, and conscientiously put aside, and the public, never very much interested in the author personally, had about forgotten him.