The American Claimant | Page 4

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 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."
"Cringe--why, he doesn't know the meaning of the word. Hatchments!
To commemorate that sniveling tramp and his, fraternal duplicate. And
he is going to send me the remains. The late Claimant was a fool, but
plainly this new one's a maniac. What a name! Mulberry
Sellers--there's music for you, Simon Lathers--Mulberry
Sellers--Mulberry Sellers--Simon Lathers. Sounds like machinery
working and churning. Simon Lathers, Mulberry Sel--Are you going?"
"If I have your leave, father."
The old gentleman stood musing some time, after his son was gone.
This was his thought:
"He is a good boy, and lovable. Let him take his own course--as it
would profit nothing to oppose him--make things worse, in fact. My
arguments and his aunt's persuasions have failed; let us see what
America can do for us. Let us see what equality and hard-times can

effect for the mental health of a brain-sick young British lord. Going to
renounce his lordship and be a man! Yas!"



CHAPTER II
.
COLONEL MULBERRY SELLERS--this was some days before he
wrote his letter to Lord Rossmore--was seated in his "library," which
was also his "drawing-room" and was also his "picture gallery" and
likewise his "work-shop." Sometimes he called it by one of these
names, sometimes by another, according to occasion and circumstance.
He was constructing what seemed to be some kind of a frail mechanical
toy; and was apparently very much interested in his work. He was a
white-headed man, now, but otherwise he was as young, alert, buoyant,
visionary and enterprising as ever. His loving old wife sat near by,
contentedly knitting and thinking, with a cat asleep in her lap. The
room was large, light, and had a comfortable look, in fact a home-like
look, though the furniture was of a humble sort and not over abundant,
and the knickknacks and things that go to adorn a living-room not
plenty and not costly. But there were natural flowers, and there was an
abstract and unclassifiable something about the place which betrayed
the presence in the house of somebody with a happy taste and an
effective touch.
Even the deadly chromos on the walls were somehow without offence;
in fact they seemed to belong there and to add an attraction to the
room- -a fascination, anyway; for whoever got his eye on one of them
was like to gaze and suffer till he died--you have seen that kind of
pictures. Some of these terrors were landscapes, some libeled the sea,
some were ostensible portraits, all were crimes. All the portraits were
recognizable as dead Americans of distinction, and yet, through
labeling added, by a daring hand, they were all doing duty here as
"Earls of Rossmore." The newest one had left the works as Andrew
Jackson, but was doing its best now, as "Simon Lathers Lord Rossmore,

Present Earl." On one wall was a cheap old railroad map of
Warwickshire. This had been newly labeled "The Rossmore Estates."
On the opposite wall was another map, and this was the most imposing
decoration of the establishment and the first to catch a stranger's
attention, because of its great size. It had once borne simply the title
SIBERIA; but now the word "FUTURE" had been written in front of
that word. There were other additions, in red ink--many cities, with
great