In 1873 I arrived in London with my wife and young child, and presently received a note from Naples signed by a name not familiar to me.

It was not Bascom, and it was not Henry; but I will call it Henry Bascom for convenience's sake.

This note, of about six lines, was written on a strip of white paper whose end-edges were ragged.

I came to be familiar with those strips in later years.

Their size and pattern were always the same.