y handsome; but if they were typical of anything, they
told unmistakably that their possessor was a man of culture. They
showed none of that barbaric frankness which, like a manufacturer's
label, flaunts in the face of all humanity the history of one's
origin, race, and nationality. Culture is hostile to type; it
humanizes the ferocious jaw-bones of the Celt, blanches the ruddy
lustre of the Anglo-Saxon complexion, contracts the abdominal volume
of the Teuton, and subdues the extravagant angularities of Brother
Jonathan's stature and character. Although respecting this
physiognomic reticence on the part of Mr. Fern, we dare not leave the
reader in ignorance regarding the circumstances of which he was the
unconscious result.

After his flight from Norway, Arne Ormgrass had roamed about for
several months as "a wanderer and a vagabond upon the earth," until,
finally, he settled down in New Orleans, where he entered into
partnership with a thrifty young Swede, and established a hotel, known
as the "Sailors' Valhalla." Fortune favored him: his reckless daring,
his ready tongue, and, above all, his extraordinary beauty soon gained
him an enviable reputation. Money became abundant, the hotel was torn
down and rebuilt with the usual barbaric display of mirrors and
upholstery, and the landlords began to aspire for guests of a higher
degree. Then, one fine day, a young lady, with a long French name and
aristocratic antecedents, fell in love with Arne, not coolly and
prudently, as northern damsels do, but with wildly tragic
gesticulations and a declamatory ardor that were superb to behold. To
the Norseman, however, a passion of this degree of intensity was too
novel to be altogether pleasing; he felt awed and bewildered,--standing,
as he did, for the first time in his life in the presence of a
veritable mystery. By some chance their clandestine meetings were
discovered. The lady's brother shot at Arne, who returned the shot with
better effect; then followed elopement--marriage--return to the
bosom of the family, and a final grand tableau with parental blessing
and reconciliation.

From that time forth, Arne Fern, as he was called (his Norse name
having simply been translated into English), was a man of distinction.
After the death of his father-in-law, in 1859, he sold his Louisiana
property and emigrated with his wife and three children to San
Francisco, where by successful real-estate investments he greatly
increased his wea