with people of strange, hyphenated name--Six-Fingered Jake,

Young-Man-afraid-of his-Shadow, and the like. No letters, no documents.

The young man muses--maps out his course. His letter of credit is burned;

he will borrow the small bills and the silver in these pockets, apply

part of it to advertising for the owner, and use the rest for sustenance

while he seeks work. He sends out for the morning paper, next, and

proceeds to read about the fire. The biggest line in the display-head

announces his own death! The body of the account furnishes all the

particulars; and tells how, with the inherited heroism of his caste, he

went on saving women and children until escape for himself was

impossible; then with the eyes of weeping multitudes upon him, he stood

with folded arms and sternly awaited the approach of the devouring fiend;

"and so standing, amid a tossing sea of flame and on-rushing billows of

smoke, the noble young heir of the great house of Rossmore was caught up

in a whirlwind of fiery glory, and disappeared forever from the vision of

men."

The thing was so fine and generous and knightly that it brought the

moisture to his eyes. Presently he said to himself: "What to do is as

plain as day, now. My Lord Berkeley is dead--let him stay so. Died

creditably, too; that will make the calamity the easier for my father.

And I don't have to report to the American Claimant, now. Yes, nothing

could be better than the way matters have turned out. I have only to

furnish myself with a new name, and take my new start in life totally

untrammeled. Now I breathe my first breath of real freedom; and how

The American Claimant