Their disappointment was somewhat relieved presently, for in the chips by the door of the house they found a small hand-bag of alligator leather marked with three silver letters, "E.Q.R." The key was attached to the lock by a ribbon; and as soon as the bag could be opened, Coleman seized upon another small book which was called "The Luck of Roaring Camp." The author was one Francis Bret Harte, of whom they had never heard before. The book was a new one, for it bore "1870" on the title-page, and the leaves were uncut except at a particular story entitled "Miggles." Besides this book the bag contained numerous little trinkets, among which the most useful article was a pair of scissors. They found three dainty linen handkerchiefs with monograms, a cut-glass vinaigrette containing salts of ammonia, a rag of chamois-skin dusty with a white powder, a tooth-brush, and a box of the tooth-powder aforesaid, a brush and comb, a box of bonbons, a pair of tan-colored gloves, a button-hook, and an opened letter addressed to Elizabeth Q. Rose, No. 165 West 130th street, New York city. The letter bore the postmark, "Liverpool, August 12," and was stamped at the New York office, "August 20, 8 P.M." Here was evidence of progress. _Eight days from Liverpool to New York!_ The envelop had been torn off at the lower right-hand corner in opening, so that it was impossible to tell whether the letters "U.S." or "C.S." had been written below "New York." The soldiers cut the leaves of the book, and glanced hurriedly over the pages without finding anything to clear up the mystery which interested them most. They sat down on the woodpile, sorely disappointed, to talk over the events of the morning; and presently they began clipping off their long beards with the scissors, and using the brush and comb, to which their heads had so long been strangers. The experience was all so strange that but for the treasures left behind, not counting the "Treatise on Deep-Sea Fishing," they might have doubted the reality of the passage of their aërial visitor. When it came to a division of the trifles of a lady's toilet, the well-known prejudice of the world below concerning a second-hand tooth-brush was cast to the winds by Bromley, while Lieutenant Coleman, who had some qualms of conscience, was better satisfied with the rag of chamois-skin for the same purpose. The vinaigrette and the gloves fell to Philip. They had just a handkerchief apiece, and nobody cared for the button-hook.