with which I had opened so many others. The post-mark (Algiers)
had aroused my interest and curiosity, es-pecially at this time,
since it was Algiers that was presently to witness the termination
of my coming sea voyage in search of sport and adventure.

Before the reading of that letter was completed lions and lion-hunting
had fled my thoughts, and I was in a state of excitement bordering
upon frenzy.

It--well, read it yourself, and see if you, too, do not find food
for frantic conjecture, for tantalizing doubts, and for a great
hope.

Here it is:

DEAR SIR: I think that I have run across one of the most remarkable
coincidences in modern literature. But let me start at the beginning:

I am, by profession, a wanderer upon the face of the earth. I have
no trade--nor any other occupation.

My father bequeathed me a competency; some remoter ancestors lust
to roam. I have combined the two and invested them carefully and
without extravagance.

I became interested in your story, At the Earth's Core, not so much
because of the probability of the tale as of a great and abiding
wonder that people should be paid real money for writing such
impossible trash. You will pardon my candor, but it is necessary
that you understand my mental attitude toward this particular