Among other similar swindles, sealed circulars were at one time
scattered broadcast over the more remote states, announcing that on
a given date the drawing for a series of magnificent prizes would
take place at Livingston Hall, No. 42 Elm Avenue, Wington Junction,
Connecticut. Patrons were urged to remit the purchase-money for
tickets promptly, as there would be no postponement of the grand
event under any circumstances. "Fortune," continued the glittering
advertisement, "knocks once at every one's door, and she is now
knocking at yours."

As usual, multitudes swallowed the bait, but some, instead of
sending the greenbacks to Highfalutin & Co., forwarded the
circulars to the department. Thereupon special agent Sharretts was
instructed to visit Wington Junction, with the view of learning
whether the postmaster was properly discharging his duties. Taking
an early opportunity to perform the mission, he alighted at the
station one morning, and proceeded to survey the town, which
consisted of four or five houses scattered along the highway for a
distance of half a mile. "Livingston Hall" and "Elm Avenue" were
nowhere visible. It was apparent that "No. 42" on any avenue was a
remote contingency not likely to arise in the present generation.

Having previously ascertained that the postmaster was also switch-
tender at the junction, and that the cares of the office devolved
on his wife, the officer walked up to a keen-looking man in front
of the little round switch-house, whose energies were devoted
exclusively at that moment to the mastication of a huge quid of
tobacco, and who, after a prolonged scrutiny of the stranger,
answered his salutation in an attenuated drawl,' "Meornin', sir."