Milton Wright, Associate Editor of the Scientific American, was reading aloud:
"Eureka," "Mizpah," "Mother Machree," "Jim, old boy, I am here."
A little group, assembled in the offices of his magazine in the Woolworth Building, Manhattan, stirred uneasily. Each phrase read by Editor Wright came from one of 284 epistles which were being expertly opened by Publisher Orson D. Munn.
"Watermelon," "Welencei Boldosag," "Amen," "A peacock feather."
Everybody in the room realized the significance of those words, for they knew the story of an agreement which a certain Dr. J. Allen Gilbert of Portland,...