mathematical doctrine of chances especially had been abused and misunderstood, to the great detriment of science.
The following very remarkable correspondence illustrates my position so forcibly that I beg leave to present it to your readers.
The first letter is a so-called "April-fool" letter, as the date suggests, and is wholly imaginative. It was written for amusement purely, and obtained a very different reply from what was expected.
The author of the communication is a well-known merchant of this city, and a friend of mine. The person who replied is also well known in the region where he resides.
This coincidence is certainly one of the most remarkable of any recorded in the history either of logic or of delusions.
| 202 Columbia Heights, Brooklyn, April 1, 1879. |
Some time ago a man by the name of John Nasium lived in New York. His father was a Southerner, and died last summer of yellow fever. He had two brothers, James and George. The former, some years ago, went to California, and the latter, I understand, resides somewhere in Kansas.
This John Nasium seems to have been the black sheep of the family, and when he left New York he did not leave a very good record behind him. He went from here to Toledo, Ohio, and afterward, we hear, he went to Tecumseh, Michigan, no doubt thinking that in a quiet country place he would be more secluded than he could be in a city. I and several of my friends would like to get track of him, if it can be done quietly, and without exciting any suspicion. He may have changed his name, and so I will describe the man, as nearly as I can, which may be some help to you. John I never knew very well, but his brother Jem, as they called him here, I knew very well indeed. John is rather tall, weighing about 180 pounds, I should think. He stoops a little, and is slightly lame in the left leg. You would not observe his lameness unless you were to pay particular attention to him while walking. His hair is a dark sandy color, in fact almost a red, and his side-whiskers are almost the same color, but a little darker. He is about thirty-eight years of age, but really does not look over thirty. His eyes are a very dark brown, and the left eye looks a little peculiar, i. e., unlike the other—looks as if some time or another a cataract had been removed by an operation. To look at him, you would at once see a difference in his eyes, and yet I can not describe the difference any better than I have done. While he lived here he usually wore his hair rather long, and carried himself in a style peculiar to the Southerner.
Now, perhaps the best and most prudent way for you to do would be for you to go up and read this letter to Uncle Hiram first. He is a very careful, discreet man, and he can make inquiries and excite less suspicion than you could.
I am real sorry to make you any trouble, and much less Uncle Hiram, but this is a matter, if it can be properly done, which may be of considerable importance to me and several of my friends, and perhaps further the ends of justice.
There is one other mark which may aid you, which is—this man was in the rebel army, and his forefinger on his left hand was shot off. His nose is quite