Of the lesser troublesome people may be named, first, those who are looking up their genealogies. A typical letter made up from various epistles, as a ``composite'' portrait is made out of different photographs, would run much as follows:
SIR: I have reason to suppose that I am descended from an old noble family in Germany. My grandfather's name was Max Schulze. He came, I think, from some part of Austria or Bavaria or Schleswig-Holstein. Please trace back my ancestry and let me know the result at your earliest convenience. Yours truly, MARY SMITH.
Another more troublesome class is that of people seeking inheritances. A typical letter, compounded as above, would run somewhat as follows:
SIR: I am assured that a fortune of several millions of marks left by one John M<u:>ller, who died in some part of Germany two or three centuries ago, is held at the imperial treasury awaiting heirs. My grandmother's name was Miller. Please look the matter up and inform me as to my rights. Yours truly, JOHN MYERS.
P.S. If you succeed in getting the money, I will be glad to pay you handsomely for your services.
Such letters as this are easily answered. During this first sojourn of mine at Berlin as minister, I caused a circular, going over the whole ground, to be carefully prepared and to be forwarded to applicants. In this occur the following words: ``We have yearly, from various parts of the United States, a large number of applications for information or aid regarding great estates in Germany supposed to be awaiting heirs. They are all more or less indefinite, many sad, and some ludicrous. . . . There are in Germany no large estates, awaiting distribution to unknown heirs, in the hands of the government or of anybody, and all efforts to discover such estates that the legation has ever made or heard of have proved fruitless.''
Among the many odd applications received at that period, one revealed an American superstition by no means unusual. The circumstances which led to it were as follows:
An ample fund, said to be forty or fifty thousand dollars, had been brought together in Philadelphia for the erection of an equestrian statue to Washington, and it had been finally decided to intrust the commission to Professor Siemering, one of the most eminent of modern German sculptors. One day there came to me a letter from an American gentleman whom I had met occasionally many years before, asking me to furnish him with a full statement regarding Professor Siemering's works and reputation. As a result, I made inquiries among the leading authorities on modern art, and, everything being most favorable, I at last visited his studio, and found a large number of designs and models of works on which he was then engaged,—two or three being of the highest importance, among them the great war monument at Leipsic.
I also found that, although he had executed and was executing important works for various other parts of Germany, he had not yet put up any great permanent work in Berlin, though the designs of the admirable temporary statues and decorations on the return of the troops from the Franco-Prussian War to the metropolis had been intrusted largely to him.
These facts I stated to my correspondent in a letter, and in due time received an answer in substance as follows: