by Mark Twain
14,042 SIXTEENTH. STREET, WASHINGTON, May 2.
My Lord--It is my painful duty to announce to you that the head of ourillustrious house is no more--The Right Honourable, The Most Noble,The Most Puissant Simon Lathers Lord Rossmore having departed this life("Gone at last--this is unspeakably precious news, my son,") at his seatin the environs of the hamlet of Duffy's Corners in the grand old Stateof Arkansas,--and his twin brother with him, both being crushed by alog at a smoke-house-raising, owing to carelessness on the part of allpresent, referable to over-confidence and gaiety induced by overplus ofsour-mash--("Extolled be sour-mash, whatever that may be, eh Berkeley?")five days ago, with no scion of our ancient race present to close hiseyes 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 upa collection for it. But I shall take immediate occasion to have theirnoble remains shipped to you ("Great heavens!") for interment, withdue ceremonies and solemnities, in the family vault or mausoleum of ourhouse. 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 goodsof our lamented relative, and must of necessity, painful as the duty is,shortly require at the bar of the Lords restitution of these dignitiesand properties, now illegally enjoyed by your titular lordship.
With assurance of my distinguished consideration and warm cousinlyregard, I remain Your titular lordship's
Most obedient servant,
Mulberry Sellers Earl Rossmore.
"Immense! Come, this one's interesting. Why, Berkeley, his breezyimpudence 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! Tocommemorate that sniveling tramp and his, fraternal duplicate. And he isgoing to send me the remains. The late Claimant was a fool, but plainlythis new one's a maniac. What a name! Mulberry Sellers--there's musicfor you, Simon Lathers--Mulberry Sellers--Mulberry Sellers--SimonLathers. 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. Thiswas his thought:
"He is a good boy, and lovable. Let him take his own course--as it wouldprofit nothing to oppose him--make things worse, in fact. My argumentsand his aunt's persuasions have failed; let us see what America cando for us. Let us see what equality and hard-times can effect for themental health of a brain-sick young British lord. Going to renounce hislordship and be a man! Yas!"
