From this I wandered into the States by Schenectady, Utica, and Albany,

down the Hudson to New York, thence--but why recite mere names? It was

after about three months' travelling, during which my wardrobe shared a

fate not dissimilar to Æsop's bread-basket, that I found myself at New

Orleans. Coming even from the varied and strange panorama that so many

weeks of continual travelling present, I was struck by the appearance

of New Orleans. Do not be afraid, worthy reader; you're not "in" for any

description of localities. I 'll neither inflict you with a land view

nor a sea view. In my company you 'll never hear a word about the

measurement of a cathedral, or the number of feet in height of a

steeple. My care and my business are with men and women. They are to me

the real objects of travel. The checkered board of human life is the map

whose geography I love to study, and my thoughts are far more with the

stream that flows from the heart, than with the grandest river that ever

sought the sea. When I said I was struck with New Orleans, it was then

with the air of its population. Never did I behold such a mass of

bold, daring, reckless fellows as swaggered on every side. The fiery

Frenchman, the determined-looking Yankee, the dark-browed Spaniard,

the Camanche and the half-caste, the Mulatto, the Texan, the Negro, the

Cuban, and the Creole, were all here, and all seemed picked specimens of

their race.

The least acute of observers could not fail to see that it was a land

where a quick eye, a steady foot, and a strong hand were requisites of

every-day life. The personal encounters that in other cities are

left altogether to the very lowest class of inhabitants, were here

in frequent use among every grade and rank. Every one went armed; the

scenes which so often occurred, showed the precaution a needful one.

The wide-awake look of the Yankee was sleepy indifference when

contrasted with the intense keenness of aspect that met you here at

every step, and you felt at once that you were in company where all

your faculties would be few enough for self-protection. This, my first

impression of the people, each day's experience served to confirm.

Whatever little veils of shame and delicacy men throw over their sharp

practices elsewhere, here, I am free to confess, they despised such

hypocrisy. It was a free trade in wickedness. In _their_ game of life

"cheating was fair." Now, this in nowise suited me nor my plans. I soon

saw that all the finer traits of my own astuteness would be submerged

in the great ocean of coarse roguery around me, and I soon resolved upon

taking my departure.

The how and the whereto--two very important items in the resolve--were

yet to be solved, and I was trotting along Cliff Street one day, when

my eyes rested suddenly upon the great board, with large letters on it,

"Office of the 'Picayune.'" I repeated the word over and over a couple

of times, and then remembered it was the journal in which the reward for

the Black Boatswain had been offered.

There was little enough, Heaven knows, in this to give me any interest

in the paper; but the total isolation in which I found myself, without

one to speak to or converse with, made me feel that even the "Picayune"

was an acquaintance; and so I drew near the window where a considerable

number of persons were reading the last number of the paper, which, in

a laudable spirit of generosity, was exposed within the glass to public

gaze.

Mingling with these, but not near enough to read for myself, I could

hear the topics that were discussed, among which a row at the Congress,

a duel with revolvers, a steam explosion on the Mississippi, and a few

smart instances of Lynch-law figured.

"What 's that in the 'Yune print?" said a great raw-boned fellow, with a

cigar like a small walking-cane in the corner of his mouth.

"It's a Texan go," said another; "sha'n't catch me at that trick."

"Well, I don't know," drawled out a sleek-haired man, with a very Yankee

drawl; "I see Roarin' Peter, our judge up at New Small-pox, take a

tarnation deal of booty out of that location."

"Where had he been?" asked the tall fellow.

"At Guayugualla,--over the frontier."

"There _is_ a bit to be done about there," said the other, and, wrapping

his mantle about him, lounged off.

"Guayugualla!" repeated I; and, retiring a little from the crowd, I took

from my pocket the little newspaper paragraph of the negro, and read the

name which had sounded so familiarly to my ears.

I endeavored once more to approach the window, but the crowd had already

increased considerably; and I had nothing for it but to go in and buy

the paper, which now had taken a strong hold upon me.

Cheap as was the paper, it cost me that day's dinner; and it was with a

very great anxiety to test the value of my sacrifice that I hastened to

the little miserable den which I had hired as my sleeping-place.

Once within, I fastened the door, and, spreading out the journal on

my bed, proceeded to search for the Texan paragraph. It was headed in

capitals, and easily found. It ran thus:--

"WANTED--A few downright, go-ahead ones, to join an excursion into the

One-Star Republic,--the object being to push a way down South, and open

a new trade-line for home doings. Applicants to address the Office of

the paper, and rally at Galveston, with rifle, pistols, ammunition,

horse, pack, and a bowie, on Tuesday, the 8th instant."

I 'm sure I knew that paragraph off by heart before bedtime, but just

as I have seen a stupid man commit a proposition in Euclid to

memory,--without ever being able to work it. I was totally at a loss

what to make of the meaning of the expedition. It was, to say the least,

somewhat mysterious; and the whole being addressed to "go-ahead ones,"

who were to come with rifles and bowie-knives, showed that they were not

likely to be missionaries. There was one wonderful clause about it,--it

smacked of adventure. There was a roving wildness in the very thought

which pleased me, and I straightway opened a consultation with myself

how I could compass the object. My stock of money had dwindled down to

four dollars; and although I still possessed some of the best articles

of my wardrobe, the greater portion had been long since disposed of.

Alas! the more I thought over it, the more hopeless did my hope of

journey appear,--I made every imaginable good bargain in my fancy; I

disposed of old waistcoats and gaiters as if they had been the honored

vestments of heroes and sages; I knocked down my shoes at prices that

old Frederick's boots would n't have fetched; and yet, with all this, I

fell far short of a sum sufficient to purchase my equipment,--in fact,

I saw that if I compassed the "bowie-knife," it would be the full extent

of my powers. I dwelt upon this theme so long that I grew fevered and

excited: I got to believe that here was a great career opening before

me, to which one petty, miserable obstacle opposed itself. I was like

a man deterred from undertaking an immense journey, by the trouble of

crossing a rivulet.

In this frame of mind I went to bed, but only to rove over my rude

fancies, and, in a state between sleep and waking, to imagine that

some tiny hand held me back, and prevented me ascending a path on which

Fortune kept waving her hand for me to follow. When day broke, I found

myself sitting at my window, with the newspaper in my hands,--though how

I came there, or how long I had spent in that attitude, I cannot say; I

only know that my limbs were excessively cold, and my temples hot, and

that while my hands were benumbed and swollen, my heart beat faster and

fuller than I had ever felt it before.

"Now for the 'Picayune,'" said I, starting from my chair; "though I

never may make the journey, at least I 'll ask the road."

CHAPTER XVIII. THE ORDINARY OF ALL NATIONS

Making my way with difficulty through the crowd which filled the hall

of the house, and which consisted of purchasers, newsvenders, reporters,

printers' devils, and others interested in the "Picayune," all eagerly

discussing the news of the day, I reached a small back office, where,

having knocked timidly twice, I was desired to enter.

A man seated at a coarse deal table was cutting out paragraphs from

various newspapers, which, as he threw them at either side of him, were

eagerly caught up by two or three ragged urchins who were in waiting

behind him. He looked up at me as I entered, and roughly asked what I

wanted.

"I have seen an advertisement in your paper, headed, 'Expedition to

Texas '------"

"Upstairs,--No. 3,--two-pair back," said he, and went on with his labor.

I hesitated, hoping he might add something; but seeing that he had said

all he intended or was likely to say, I slowly withdrew.

"Upstairs, then,--No. 3,--two-pair back," said I to myself, and mounted,

with the very vaguest notions of what business I had when I got there.

There was no difficulty in finding the place; many others were hastening

towards it at the same time; and, in company with some half-dozen very

ill-favored and meanly clad fellows, I entered a large room, where about

forty men were assembled, who stood in knots or groups, talking in low

and confidential tones together.

"Is there a committee to-day?" asked one of those who came in with me.

"Business is over," said another.

"And is the lottery drawn?"

"Ay, every ticket, except one or two."

"Who's won Butcher's mare?"

"Tell us that if you can," said a huge fellow, with a red worsted

comforter round his throat; "that's exactly what we want to know."

"Well, I'm whipped if it ain't among those numbers," said a pale man

with one eye, "and I 'll give fifty dollars for one of 'em."

"You would, would you?" said another, jeering. "Lord, how soft you 've

grown! Why, she's worth five hundred dollars, that 'ere beast!"

"Butcher gave a mustang and two hundred and seventy for her," cried

another.

"Well, she broke his neck, for all that," growled out he of the red

neckcloth; "you'll see that some chap will win her that don't want a

beast, and she 'll be sold for a trifle."

"And there's a free passage to Galveston, grub and liquor, in the same

ticket," said another,--"an almighty sight of luck for one man!"

"It ain't me, anyhow," said red cravat; and then, with a tremendous

oath, added: "I've been a putter in at these Texas lotteries for four

years, and never won anything but a blessed rosary."

"What became of it, Dick?" said another, laughing.

"The beads fitted my rifle-bore, and I fired 'em away when lead was

scarce."

Various discussions followed about luck and lotteries, with anecdotes

of all kinds respecting fortunate winners; then came stories of Texan

expeditions in former times, which I began to perceive were little else

than speculations of a gambling kind, rarely intended to go farther than

the quay of New Orleans.

On the present occasion, however, it would seem a real expedition had

been planned. Some had already sailed, others were to follow the very

day after the lottery, and only waited to learn who was the fortunate

winner of Butcher's mare, at that time waiting at Galveston for an

owner.

I waited a long time, in hope of acquiring something like an insight

into the scope of the enterprise, but in vain; indeed, it was easy to

see that, of the company, not a single one, in all likelihood, intended

to join the expedition. When I left the "Picayune," therefore, I was but

little wiser than when I entered it; and yet somehow the whole scheme

had taken a fast hold on my imagination, which readily filled in the

details of what I was ignorant. The course of reading in which I had

indulged on board Sir Dudley's yacht was doubtless the reason of this.

My mind had laid up so many texts for adventurous fancies that on

the slightest pretext I could call up any quantity of enterprise and

vicissitude.

A hundred times I asked myself if it were likely that any of these Texan

adventurers would accept, of my services to wait upon them. I was not

ignorant of horses, a tolerably fair groom, could cook a little,--that

much I had learned on board the yacht; besides, wherever my

qualifications failed, I had a ready witted ingenuity that supplied the

place almost as well as the "real article."

"Ah!" thought I, "who knows how many are passing at this moment

whose very hearts would leap with joy to find such a fellow as I am,'

accustomed to in-door and out, wages no object, and no objection to

travel! '" Possessed with this notion, I could not help fancying that

in every look that met mine as I went, I could read something like an

inquiry, a searching glance that seemed to say, "Bless me! ain't that

Con? As I live, there's Con Cregan! What a rare piece of fortune to

chance upon him at this juncture!"

I own it did require a vivid and warm imagination so to interpret the

expressions which met my eyes at every moment, seeing that the part of

the town into which I had wandered was that adjoining to the docks,--a

filthy, gloomy quarter, chiefly resorted to by Jew slop-sellers,

ship-chandlers, and such like, with here and there a sailors' ordinary

usually kept by a negro or half-breed.

I had eaten nothing that day, and it was now late in the afternoon, so

that it was with a very strong interest I peeped occasionally into the

little dens, where, under a paper lantern with the inscription, "All

for Twelve Cents," sat a company, usually of sailors and watermen, whose

fare harmonized most unpleasantly with their features.

The combat between a man's taste and his exchequer is never less

agreeable than when it concerns a dinner. To feel that you have a soul

for turtle and truffles, and yet must descend to mashed potatoes and

herrings; to know that a palate capable of appreciating a salmi des

perdreaux must be condemned to the indignity of stock fish,--what an

indignity is that! The whole man revolts at it! You feel, besides, that

such a meal is unrelieved by those suggestive excursions of fancy which

a well-served table abounds in. In the one case you eat like the beast

of the field,--it is a question of supporting nature, and no more; in

the other, there is a poetry interwoven that elevates and exalts. With

what discursive freedom does the imagination range from the little

plate of oysters that preludes your soup, to pearl fishery and the coral

reefs, "with moonlight sleeping on the breaking surf!" And then your

soup, be it turtle or mulligatawny, how associated is it with the

West Indies or the East, bearing on its aromatic vapor thousands of

speculative reflections about sugar and slavery, pepper-pots, straw

hats, pickaninnies, and the Bishop of Barbadoes; or the still grander

themes of elephants, emeralds, and the Indus, with rajahs, tigers,

punkahs, and the Punjaub!

And so you proceed, dreamily following out in fancy the hints each

course supplies, and roving with your cutlets to the "cattle upon a

thousand hills," or dallying with the dessert to the orange-groves of

Zaute or Sicily.

I do love all this. The bouquet of my Bordeaux brings back the Rhone, as

the dry muscat of my Johannisberg pictures the vine-clad cliffs of the

Vaterland, with a long diminuendo train of thought about Metternich

and the Holy Alliance--the unlucky treaty of '15--Vienna--Madame

Schrader--and Castelli.

And how pleasantly and nationally does one come back with the port to

our "ancient ally, Portugal," with a mind-painted panorama of Torres

Vedras and the Douro,--with Black Horse Square and the Tagus,--"the

Duke" ever and anon flitting across the scene, and making each glass you

carry to your lips a heartfelt "long life to him!"

Alas and alas! such prandial delights were not for me; I must dine for

twelve cents, or, by accepting the brilliant entertainment announced

yonder, price half-a-dollar, keep Lent the rest of the week.

The temptation to which I allude ran thus:--

Ladies and Gentlemen's Grand Ordinary of all Nations

At 5 o'clock precisely.

Thumbo-rig--Mint julep--and a Ball. The "Half-dollar."

Monsieur Palamede de Rosanne directs the Ceremonies.

If there was a small phrase in the aforesaid not perfectly intelligible,

it seemed, upon the principle of the well-known adage, only to heighten

the inducement. The "Thumbo-rig" above might mean either a new potation

or a new dance. Still, conceding this unknown territory, there was

quite sufficient in the remainder of the advertisement to prove a strong

temptation. The house, too, had a pretentious air about it that promised

well. There was a large bow-window, displaying a perfect landscape of

rounds and sirloins, with a tasteful drapery of sausages overhead;

while a fragrant odor of rum, onions, fresh crabs, cheese, salt cod, and

preserved ginger made the very air ambrosial.

As I stood and sniffed, my resolution staggered under the assaults made

on eye, nose, and palate, a very smartly-dressed female figure crossed

the way, holding up her dress full an inch or so higher than even

the mud required, and with a jaunty air displayed a pair of very pink

stockings on very well-turned legs. I believe--I 'm not sure, but

I fear--the pink stockings completed what the pickled beef began.

I entered. Having paid my money at the bar, and given up my hat and

greatcoat, I was ushered by a black waiter, dressed in a striped jacket

and trousers, as if he had been ruled with red ink, into a large room,

where a very numerous company of both sexes were assembled, some seated,

some standing, but all talking away with buzz and confusion that showed

perfect intimacy to be the order of the day. The men, it was easy

to see, were chiefly in the "shipping interest." There was a strong

majority of mates and small skippers, whose varied tongues ranged from

Spanish and Portuguese to Dutch and Danish; French, English and Russian

were also heard in the _mêlée_, showing that the Grand Ordinary had a

world-made repute. The ladies were mostly young, very condescending in

their manners, somewhat overdressed, and for the most part French.

As I knew no one, I waited patiently to be directed where I should

sit, and was at last shown to a place between a very fat lady of créole

tint--another dip would have made her black--and a little brisk man,

whom I soon heard was Monsieur Palamede himself.

The dinner was good, the conversation easiest of the easy, taking in

all, from matters commercial to social,--the whole seasoned with the

greatest good-humor and no small share of smartness. Personal adventures

by land and sea,--many of the latter recounted by men who made no

scruple of confessing that they "dealt in ebony,"--the slave-trade.

Little incidents of life, that told much for the candor of the

recounter, were heard on all sides, until at length I really felt

ashamed of my own deficiency in not having even contributed an anecdote

for the benefit of the company. This preyed upon me the more as I saw

myself surrounded by persons who really, if their own unimpeachable

evidence was to be credited, began the world in ways and shapes the

most singular and uncommon. Not a man or woman of the party that had not

slipped into existence in some droll, quaint fashion of their own, so

that positively, and for the first time, I really grew ashamed to think

that I belonged to "decent people" who had not compromised me in the

slightest degree. "Voilà un jeune homme qui ne dit pas un mot!" said

a pretty-looking woman, with fair brown hair and a very liquid pair of

blue eyes. The speech was addressed to me, and the whole table at once

turned their glances towards me.

"Ay, very true," said a short, stout little skipper, with an

unmistakable slash from a cutlass across his nose; "a sharp-looking

fellow like that has a story if he will only tell it."

"And you may see," cried another, "that we are above petty prejudices

here; roguery only lies heavy on the conscience that conceals it." The

speaker was a tall, sallow man, with singularly intelligent features;

he had been a Jesuit tutor in the family of an Italian noble, and after

consigning his patron to the Inquisition, had been himself banished from

Rome.

Pressing entreaties and rough commands, half imperious instances and

very seductive glances, all were directed towards me, with the object of

extorting some traits of my life, and more particularly of that part of

it which concerned my birth and parentage. If the example of the company

invited the most unqualified candor, I cannot say that it overcame

certain scruples I felt about revealing my humble origin. I was

precisely in that anomalous position in life when such avowals are most

painful. Without ambition, the confession had not cost me any sacrifice;

while, on the other hand, I had not attained that eminence which has a

proud boastfulness in saying, "Yes, I, such as you see me now,--great,

titled, wealthy, and powerful,--I was the son of a newsvender or a

lamplighter." Such avowals, highly lauded as they are by the world,

especially when made by archbishops or chancellors, or other great folk,

at public dinners, are, to my thinking, about as vainglorious bits of

poor human nature as the most cynical could wish to witness. They are

the mere victories of vanity over self-esteem. Now, I had no objection

that the world should think me a young gentleman of the very

easiest notions of right and wrong, with a conscience as elastic as

gutta-percha, picking my way across life's stream on the stepping-stones

made by other men's skulls,--being, as the phrase has it, a very loose

fish indeed; but I insisted on their believing that I was well-born.

Every one has his weakness,--this was Con Cregan's; and as these

isolated fissures in strong character are nearly allied with strength,

so was it with me: had I not had this frailty, I had never cherished so

intensely the passion to become a gentleman. This is all digressionary;

but I 'll not ask pardon of my dear reader for all that. If he be

reading in his snug, well-cushioned chair, with every appliance of ease

about him, he'll not throw down these "Confessions" for a bit of prosing

that invites the sleep that is already hovering round him. If he has

taken me up in the few minutes before dinner, he 'll not regret the bit

of meditation which does not involve him in a story. If he be spelling

me out in a mail-train, he'll be grateful for the "skipping" place,

which leaves him time to look out and see the ingenious preparations

that are making by the "down" or the "up" train to run into and smash

the unhappy convoy of which he forms a part.

"Come, my young lad, out with it. Let us hear a bit about the worthy

people who took the sin of launching you into the wide ocean. You must

have had owners one time or other." This was said by a hearty looking

old man, with hair white as snow, and an enormous pair of eyebrows to

match.

"Willingly, sir," said I, with an air of the easiest confidence; "I

should be but too proud if anything in a history humble as mine is could

amuse this honorable company. But the truth is, a life so devoid of

interest would be only a tax upon its patience to listen to; and as to

my birth, I can give little, indeed no, information. The earliest record

of my existence that I possess is from the age of two days and three

hours."

"That will do,--do admirably!" chorused the party, who laughed heartily

at the gravity with which I spoke, and which to them seemed an earnest

of my extreme simplicity. "We shall be quite satisfied with that," cried

they again.

"Well, then, gentlemen, thanking you for the indulgence with which you

consent to overlook my want of accuracy, I proceed. At the tender age I

have mentioned, I was won in a raffle!"

"Won in a raffle! won in a raffle!" screamed one after the other; and

amid shouts of laughter the phrase continued to be echoed from end to

end of the table. "That beats you hollow, Giles!" "By Jove, how scarce

babies must be in the part you come from, if people take tickets for

em!" Such were some of the commentaries that broke out amidst the mirth.

"I move," said a dapper little Frenchman who had been a barber and a

National Guard once, "I move that the honorable deputy make a statement

to the Chamber respecting the interesting fact to which he has alluded."

The motion was carried by acclamation, and I was accordingly induced to

ascend the tribune,--a kind of rude pulpit that was brought specially

into the room, and stationed at the side of the president's chair; the

comments on my personal appearance, age, air, and probable rank, which

were made all the while, evidencing the most candid spirit one can well

imagine.

"A right-down slick and shrewd 'un, darn me if he ain't!"

"A very wide awake young gemman," quoth number two.

"Il a de 'beaux yeux,' celui-là,"--this was a lady's remark.

"Set that young 'un among the girls 'down east,' and he'll mow 'em down

like grass."

"A Londoner,--swell-mobbish a bit, I take it."

"Not at all, he a'nt; he's a bank clerk or a post-office fellow bolted

with a lot of tin."

"Der ist ein echter Schelm," growled out an old Dantzic skipper; "I kenn

him vehr wohl,--steal your wash wid a leetle scheer,--scissars you call

him, ha! ha!"

"Ladies and gentlemen," said I, assuming a pose of the most dignified

importance, "before entering upon the circumstance to which you have so

graciously attached a little interest, let me assure you--not that

the fact can or ought to have any weight with this distinguished

company--that I have no claim upon your sympathy with regard to any of

the pleas whispered around me. I am neither thief, pickpocket, runaway

postman, burglar, nor highwayman. If I be, as you are pleased to say,

'wide awake,' I believe it is only a common precaution, considering

the company I find myself in; and if I really could lay claim to the

flattering praise of a fair lady on the left, it would be merely from

accidentally reflecting her own bright glances. I present myself, then,

with much diffidence before you, for the simple reason that I come in a

character somewhat strange in these parts,--I am a gentleman!"

The ineffable impertinence of this address succeeded to a miracle. Some

laughed, some applauded, a few muttered an unintelligible discontent;

but the majority of the men and all the women were with me, and I saw

that audacity had gained the day. Ay, and so will it ninety-nine times

out of the hundred in everything through life! The strategic axiom, that

no fortress is impregnable, is a valuable worldly lesson, and one ought

never to forget that a storming-party rarely fails.

"The circumstance to which I alluded a few miuutes back--I dare not

presume to call it a story--occurred thus :

"There was a large and brilliant party assembled to pass the Christmas

at the Duke of Y--------'s; you will understand my reserve. The company

included many of the first persons in fashionable life, and a Royal

*Duke to boot, a great friend of her Grace, and, some said, an old

admirer of one of her sisters, who--so went the rumor--showed the

strength of her attachment to his Royal Highness by never having

accepted any of the brilliant offers of marriage made her. She was

remarkably beautiful, and although a little past the first bloom of

youth, in full possession of her charms at the time I speak of. Old Lord

K-------- was one of the guests; and I am sure many of the distinguished

company to whom I now address myself will not need any more particular

description of the man they must have met a hundred times every London

season, well known, indeed, as he is, with his light-blue coat and his

buckskin tights, his wide beaver hat, and his queue; his eccentricities,

his wealth, and his great avarice are themes all London is acquainted

with." I paused.

A buzz of acknowledgment and recognition followed, and I resumed:--

"Lord E--------, you are aware, was a great musical amateur ; he was

the leader of everything of that kind about town, and whenever he could

prevail upon himself to open his house in Carlton Terrace, it was always

to Lablache, and Kubini, and Marini, and the reat of them. Well, it was

just at the period of this Christmas visit--over which I may remark, en

passant, Lady Blanche's indisposition cast a shade of gloom--that, in

making some alteration in the mansion, they discovered in a concealed

press in the wall a mahogany case, on opening which were found the moth

and worm eaten remains of a violin. A parchment document enclosed in

a little scroll of brass, and which had escaped the ravages of time,

explained that this was the instrument of the celebrated Giacomo

Battesta Pizzicbetoni, the greatest violinist that ever lived,--the

composer of 'II Diavolo e la sua Moglia' and the 'Balia di Paradise,'

and many other great works, with which you are all familiar."

The company chorused assent, and I continued: "The party had somehow

not gone off well; the accustomed spirit aud animation of the scene were

wanting. Perhaps Lady Blanche's illness had some share in this; in any

case, every one seemed low aud out of sorts, and the pleasant people

talked of taking leave, when his Royal Highness proposed, by way of

doing something, that they should have a raffle for this wonderful

fiddle, of which, though only seen by the host and another, every one

was talking.

"Even this much of stir was hailed with enthusiasm, the secrecy and

mystery increasing the interest to a high degree.

The tickets were two guineas each ; and Lord E--------, dying to possess

'a real Pizzichetoni,' took twenty of them. The number was limited to a

hundred; but such was the judicious management of those who directed

the proceedings that the shares were at a 'high premium' on the day of

drawing, his Royal Highness actually buying up several at five guineas

apiece. The excitement, too, was immense ; encyclopedias were ransacked

for histories of the violin, and its great professors and proficients.

The 'Conversations Lexicon' opened of itself at the letter P., and

Pizzichetoni's name turned up in every corner and on every theme, fifty

times a day. What a time I have heard that was! nothing talked of but

bow-action, shifting, bridging, double fingering, and the like, from

morning to night. Lord E-------- became, in consequence of this run

about a favorite subject, a personage of more than ordinary importance;

instead of being deemed, what he was commonly called at the clubs, the

Great 'Borassus,' he was listened to with interest and attention;

and, in fact, from the extent of his knowledge of the subject, and his

acquaintance with every detail of its history, each felt that to his

Lordship ought by right to fall the fortunate ticket.

"So did it, in fact, turn out. After much vacillation, with the last two

numbers remained the final decision. One belonged to the Royal Duke, the

other to Lord E------.

"'You shall have a hundred guineas for your chance, E------,' said the

Duke; 'what say you?'

"'Your Ruyal Highness's wish is a command,' said he, bowing and

blushing; 'but were it otherwise, and to any other than your Royal

Highness, I should as certainly say nay.'

"'Then "nay" must be the answer to me also; I cannot accept of such a

sacrifice: and, after all, you are much more worthy of such a treasure

than I am,--I really only meant it for a present to Mori.'

"'A present, your Royal Highness!' cried he, horrified; 'I would n't

give such a jewel to anything short of St. Cecilia,--the violin, you are

aware, was her instrument.'

"'Now, then, for our fortunes!' cried the Duke, as he drew forth his

ticket. 'I believe I 'm the lucky one: this is number 2000.'

"'Two thousand and one!' exclaimed Lord E------, holding up his, and, in

an ecstasy of triumph, sat down to recover himself.

"'Here is the key, my Lord,' said one of the party, advancing towards

him.

"He sprang up, and thrust it into the lock; in his agitation he shook

the box, and a slight, soft cadence, like a faint cry, was heard.

"'The soul of music hovers o'er it still,' he exclaimed theatrically,

and, flinging back the lid, discovered--Me! Yes, ladies and gentlemen,

in a very smart white robe, with very tasty embroidery, and a lace cap

which I am assured was pure Valenciennes, there I lay! I am not aware

whether my infantine movements were peculiarly seductive or not; but

I have been told that I went through my gamut at a key that even

overtopped the laughter around me.

"'A very bad jest--a _mauvaise plaisanterie_ of the worst taste, I must

say,' said Lord E------turning away, and leaving the room.

"I never rightly knew how the matter was afterwards made up, but

certainly it was by his lordship's directions, and at his charge, that

I was nursed, reared, and educated. My expenses at Eton and Oxford, as

well as the cost of my commission, came from him; and it was only a few

days ago, on learning his death, that I also learned the termination

of my good fortune in life. He bequeathed me what he styled my 'family

mansio,'--the fiddle-case; thus repaying by this cruel jest the

practical joke passed upon himself so many years before."

"What name did they give you, sir?"

"'I was called after the celebrated violinist of Cremona who lived

in the seventh century, who was named Cornelius Crejanus, or, as some

spell, Creganus; and, in compliance with modern usages, they anglicized

me into Con Cregan."

"I have the honor to propose Con Cregan's health," said the president;

"and may he see many happy years ere he next goes to sleep in a wooden

box!"

This very gratifying toast was drunk with the most flattering

acclamations, and I descended from the tribune the "man of the evening."

If some of the company who put credence in my story did not hesitate to

ascribe a strong interest in me to the Royal Duke himself, others, who

put less faith in my narrative, thought less of my parentage, and more

of myself; so that what I lost on one hand, I gained on the other.

There was a discretion, a certain shadowy prudery about certain portions

of my story, of which I have not attempted to convey any notion here,

but which I saw had "told" with the fair part of my audience, who,

possibly not over rigid in many of their opinions, were well pleased

with the delicate reserve in which I shrouded my direct allusion to my

parentage. A rough, red-whiskered skipper, indeed, seemed disposed to

pour a broadside into this mystery, by asking "If his Royal Highness

never took any notice of me?" but the refined taste of the company

concurred in the diplomatic refusal to answer a question of which the

"hon. gentleman on the straw chair" had given "no notice."

The pleasures of the table,--a very luscious bowl of the liquid which

bore the mysterious epithet of "Thumbo-rig," and which was a concoction

of the genus punch, spiced, sugared, and iced to a degree that concealed

its awful tendency to anti-Mathewism; bright eyes that were no churls

of their glances; merry converse; and that wondrous "magnetism of the

board" which we call good fellowship,--made the time pass rapidly.

Toasts and sentiments of every fashion went round, and we were

political, literary, arbitrary, amatory, sentimental, and satiric by

turns. They were pleasant varlets! and in their very diversity of humors

there was that clash and collision of mind and metal that tell more

effectively than the best packed party of choice wits who ever sat and

watched each other.

Then, there was a jolly jumbling up of bad English, bad Dutch, bad

French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, that would drive a sober

listener clean mad. Stories begun in one tongue merged into another;

and so into a third; while explanations, mistakes, and corrections ran

alongside of the narrative, often far more amusing than the story to

which they were attached. Personalities, too, abounded, but with a most

unqualified good temper; and, on the whole, I never beheld a merrier

set.

M. Palamede alone did not relish the scene. He himself was nobody at

such a moment, and he longed for the ballroom and the dance; and it

was only after repeated summonses of his bell that we at last arose and

entered the saloon, where we found him standing, fiddle in hand, while,

rapping smartly a couple of times with his bow, he called out,--

"Places! places! Monsieur le Duc de Gubbins, to your place. Ladies, I

beg attention. Madame la Marquise, dans la bonne société on ne donne

jamais un soufflet."

"Ah, here's old Rosin again!" cried several of the party, who, with all

this familiarity, appeared to view him with no small respect.

"Shall I find you a partner, Monsieur de Congreganne?" said he to me.

"Thanks," said I; "but, with your permission, I'll not dance just yet."

"As you please, it is but a contre-danse," said he shrugging his

shoulders, while he moved away to arrange the figures.

I had not perceived before that a kind of orchestra, consisting of two

fiddles, a flute, and a tambourine, was stationed in a long gallery

over the door by which we entered; Monsieur Palamede being, however,

director, not alone of the music, but of the entire entertainment. The

band now struck up a well-known English country-dance, and away went the

couples, flying down the room to the merry measure; Monsieur de

Rosanne arranging the figures, beating the time, preserving order, and

restraining irregularities, with the energy of one possessed.

"Ah, Monsieur le Capitaine de Cocks, c'en est trop. Mademoiselle de

Spicer, pas si haut! de arms graceful! Ladies, no keep your hands under

* your--what ye call him--jupe--apron--ha! ha! Black man--negro--no talk

so loud when you make punch!"

"Chassez--balancez! La grace! Madame la Marquise, la grace!" Then, as

he passed me, he muttered with a voice guttural from anger, "Quel

supplice!"

As I continued to gaze on the scene, I could not help being struck with

the extreme diversity of look and expression; for while there were some

faces on which iniquity had laid its indelible stamp, there were others

singularly pleasing, and some actually beautiful. Among the men, the

same character prevailed throughout,--a rude, coarse good-humor,--the

sailor-type everywhere; but a few seemed persons of a higher class,

and on these a life of vice and debauchery had produced the most marked

change, and you could still see, amid the traces of nights of riot and

abandonment, the remnant of finer features, the expression they had worn

before their "fall." If I was surprised at the good looks of many of

the women, still more was I by a gracefuluess of carriage and an air

of deportment that seemed as much out of place as they were unsuited to

such companionship. One young fellow appeared to be a general favorite

with the company. He was tall, well-made, and had that indescribably

rakish character about his very gesture that is rarely a bad indication

of the possessor's mode of life. I had no difficulty in learning

his name, for every one called him by it at each instant, and "Fred

Falkoner" was heard on all sides. It was he who selected the music for

the dance; his partner, for the time being, was the belle of the room,

and he lounged about supreme. Nor was his title a bad one,--he was the

great entertainer of the whole assembly. The refreshments were almost

entirely of his ordering, and the clink of his dollars might be heard

keeping merry time with the strains of the violins. I watched him

with some interest; I thought I could see that, in descending to such

companionship, there was a secret combat between his self-respect and a

strange passion for seeing life in low places, which, when added to

the flattery such a man invariably obtains from his inferiors, is a

dangerous and subtle temptation. The more I studied him, the stronger

grew this conviction,--nay, at times, the expression of scorn upon his

handsome features was legible even to the least remarking. It was

while I still continued to watch him that he passed me, with a dark,

Spanish-looking girl upon his arm, When he turned round suddenly, and,

staring at me fixedly a few seconds, said, "We met once before, to-day."

"I am not aware of it," said I, doubtingly.

"Yes, yes. I never forget a face, least of all when it resembles yours.

I saw you this morning at the 'Picayune.'"

"True, I was there."

"What a precious set of rascals those fellows were! You supposed that

they were going to join the expedition. Not a bit of it. Some were

gamblers; the greater number thieves and pickpockets. I know them all;

and, indeed, I was going to warn you about them, for I saw you were a

stranger, but I lost sight of you in the crowd. But there's the music.

Will you have a partner?"

"With all my heart," said I, glad to encourage our further acquaintance.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Not a word."

"Well, no matter. If you did, you should have mine here. But what say

you to Mademoiselle Héloïse, yonder?--a bit faded or so; but I remember

her second 'Ballarina' at the Havana, only two years back."

I made the suitable acknowledgment; and the next moment saw me whirling

away in a waltz, at least in such an approximation to that measure as

my Quebec experience suggested, with a very highly rouged and

black-eyebrowed "danseuse." My French was better than my dancing; and

so Mademoiselle Héloïse was satisfied to accept my arm, while we paraded

the room, discussing the company after the most approved fashion.

The French have a proverb, "Bête comme une danseuse;" and I must say

that my fair friend did not prove an exception. Her whole idea of life

was limited to what takes place in rehearsal of a morning, or on the

night of representation. She recounted to me her history from the time

she had been a "Rat,"--such is the technical term at the Grand Opera of

Paris,--flying through the air on a wire, or sitting perilously perched

upon a pasteboard cloud. Thence she had advanced to the state of Fairy

Queen, or some winged messenger of those celestials who wear muslin

trousers with gold stars, and always stand in the "fifth position."

Passing through the grade of Swiss peasant, Turkish slave, and

Neapolitan market-girl, she had at last arrived at the legitimate drama

of "legs," yclept "ballet d'action;" and although neither her beauty

nor abilities had been sufficient to achieve celebrity in Paris, she

was accounted a Taglioni in the "provinces," and deemed worthy of

exportation to the colonies.

"Non contingit cuique ad ire Corinthum!" we cannot all have our "loges"

at the "Grand Opéra;" and happy for us it is so, or what would become of

the pleasure we derive from third, fourth, and fifth rate performances

elsewhere? True, indeed, if truffles were a necessary of life, there

would be a vast amount of inconvenience and suffering. Now, Mademoiselle

Héloïse, whose pirouettes were no more minded in Paris, nor singled out

for peculiar favor, than one of the lamps in the row of footlights, was

a kind of small idol in the Havana. She had the good fortune to live in

an age when the heels take precedence of the head, and she shared in

the enthusiasm by which certain people in our day would bring back the

heathen mythology for the benefit of the corps de ballet.

Alas for fame! in the very climax of her glory she grew fat! Now, flesh

to a danseuse is like cowardice to a soldier, or shame to a lawyer,--it

is the irreconcilable quality. The gauzy natures who float to soft

music must not sup. Every cutlet costs an "entrechat"! Hard and terrible

condition of existence, and proving how difficult and self-denying a

thing it is to be an angel, even in this world!

So much for Mademoiselle Héloise; and if the reader be weary of her, so

was I.

"You'll have to treat her to a supper," whispered Falkoner, as he passed

me.

"I've not a cent in my purse," said I, thinking it better to tell the

truth than incur the reproach of stinginess.

"Never mind, take mine," said he, as he dropped a very weighty purse

into my coat-pocket, and moved away before I could make any answer.

Perhaps the greatest flattery an individual can receive is to win some

acknowledgment of confidence from an utter stranger. To know that by the

chance intercourse of a few minutes you have so impressed another, who

never saw you before, that he is impelled at once to befriend you,

your self-esteem, so pleasantly gratified, immediately re-acts upon

the cause, and you are at a loss whether most to applaud your own

good gifts, or the ready wittedness of him who appreciated them so

instantaneously.

I was still hesitating, revolving, doubtless, the pleasant sense of

flattery aforesaid, when Falkoner came flying past with his partner.

"Order supper for four," cried he, as he whizzed by.

"What does he say, mon cher Comte?" said my partner.

I translated his command, and found that the notion pleased her vastly.

The dining-room by this time had been metamorphosed into a kind of

coffee-room, with small supper-tables, at which parties were already

assembling; and here we now took our places, to con over the bill of

fare, and discuss scalloped oysters, cold lobster, devilled haddock, and

other like delicacies.

Falkoner soon joined us, and we sat down, the merriest knot in the room.

I must have been brilliant! I feel it so, this hour; a kind of warm glow

rushes to my cheeks as I think over that evening, and how the guests

from the different parts of the room drew gradually nearer and nearer to

listen to the converse at our table, and hear the smart things that came

pattering down like hail! What pressing invitations came pouring in

upon me! The great Mastodon himself could not have eaten a tithe of

the breakfasts to which I was asked, nor would the grog-tub of a

seventy-four contain all the rum-and-water I was proffered by skippers

lying "in dock."

Falkoner, however, pleased me more than the rest. There was something in

his cordiality that did not seem like a passing fancy; and I could not

help feeling that however corrupted and run to waste by dissipation,

there was good stuff about him. He interested me, too, on another score:

he had formerly made one of a Texan excursion that had penetrated even

to the Rio del Norte, and his escapes and adventures amused me highly.

The ladies, I believe, at last found us very ungallant cavaliers; for

they arose, and left us talking over prairie life and the wild habits of

the chase, till day began to shine through the windows.

"The 'Christobal' sails to-morrow," said he, "for Galveston; but even

she, smart sailer that she is, will scarce arrive in time to catch these

fellows. Here we are at the fifth of the month: the eighth was to be the

start; then that, supposing you to reach Galveston by the seventh, gives

you no time to get your kit ready, look after arms, and buy a nag. What

say you, then, if we make a party of our own,--charter one of these

small craft?--a hundred dollars or so will do it. We can then take our

time to pick up good cattle, look out for a couple of mules for our

baggage, and a spare mustang or so, if a horse should knock up."

I concurred at once; the plan was fascination itself. Adventure,

liberty, novelty, enterprise, and a dash of danger to heighten all!

Falkoner talked of dollars as if they macadamized the road to St. Louis;

and I, glowing with punch and pride together, spoke of the expense as a

mere trifle. To this hour, I cannot say whether I had really mystified

myself into the notion that I possessed ample means, or was merely

indulging the passing pleasure of a delightful vision. So was it,

however; I smiled at the cheapness of everything, could scarcely fancy

such a thing as a Mexican pony for eighty dollars, and laughed--actually

laughed--at the price of the rifle, when all my worldly substance, at

the moment, would not have purchased copper caps for it.

"Don't go too expensively to work, Cregan," cried he, "and, above

all, bring no European servant. A Mexican fellow--or, better still, a

half-breed--is the thing for the prairies. You have to forget your Old

World habits, and rough it."

"So I can," said I, laughing good-humoredly; "I 'm in a capital mind for

a bit of sharp work too. Just before I left the 90th, we made a forced

march from St. John's through the forest country, and I feel up to

anything."

"You'll not like the cattle at first, I'm afraid," said he. "They have

that racking action the Yankees are fond of. There is a capital mare

at Galveston, if we could get her. These fellows will snap her up, most

likely."

"Butcher's mare," said I, hazarding a guess.

"Ah, you 've been looking after her already," said he, surprised.

"Well, to tell you the truth, that was one of my objects in coming here

to-night. I heard that some of these skipper fellows had got the winning

ticket: I paid twenty dollars to the office-clerk to see the number,

and determine to buy it up. Here it is. Can you read these figures? for,

hang me if the punch, or the heat, or the dancing, has not made me quite

dizzy."

"Let me see: Number 438," said I, repeating it a couple of times over.

"Yes, that is it. If I could have chanced on it, I 'd have run down

to-morrow by the 'Christobal.' She lies about a mile out, and will weigh

with the ebb, at eight o'clock. That mare--she killed Butcher by a

down leap over a rock, but never scratched herself--is worth at least a

thousand dollars."

"I offered eight hundred for her on mere character," said I, sitting

back, and sipping my liquid with a most profound quietude.

Falkoner was evidently surprised with this announcement; but more so

from the rakish indifference it betrayed about money, than as bespeaking

me rich and affluent. And thus we chatted away till the black waiter

made his appearance to open the windows and prepare for the work of the

day.

"Where are you stopping?" said Falkoner, as we arose from the table.

"At Condor House," said I, boldly giving the name of a very flash hotel.

"But it's too noisy; I don't like it."

"Nor do I. It's confoundedly expensive, too. I wish you would come to

Herrick's; it is not quite so stylish, perhaps, but I think the cookery

is better, and you 'd not pay five dollars a bottle for Madeira, and

eight for Champagne."

"That _is_ smart," said I. "They 've not let me have my bill yet; but I

fancied they were costly folk."

"Well, come and dine with me at Herrick's to-morrow, and decide for

yourself."

"Why not try the Condor with me?" said I.

"Another day, with all my heart; but I have a friend to-morrow, so come

and meet him at six o'clock."

I agreed; and then we chatted on about London and town folks in a way

that, even with all I had drunk, amazed me for the cool impudence in

which I indulged.

"You knew De Courcy, of course," said he, after a long run of mutual

friends had been disposed of.

"Jack?" cried I,--"Jack De Courcy, of the Cold-streams,--yes, I think

I did. Jack and I were like brothers. The last steeplechase I rode in

Ireland was for poor Jack De Courcy: a little chestnut mare with a good

deal of the Arab about her."

"I remember her well,--an active devil, but she could n't go for more

than half a mile."

"Well, I managed to screw a race out of her."

"You must tell me all about that to-morrow; for I find my unfortunate

head is like a bell with the vibration of the last stroke of the hammer

on it. Don't forget,--to-morrow, sharp six. You 'll meet nobody but

Broughton."

"Dudley,--Sir Dudley Broughton?"

"The same. You know him, then, already? Poor fellow! he's terribly

cut up; but he 'll be glad to see an old friend. Have you been much

together?"

"A great deal. I made a cruise with him in his yacht, the 'Firefly.'"

"What a rare piece of fortune to have met you!" cried Falkoner, as he

shook my hand once more. And so, with the most fervent assurances of

meeting on the morrow, we parted,--he, to saunter slowly towards his

hotel; and I, to stand in the middle of the street, and, as I wiped the

perspiration from my brow, to ask myself, had I gone clean mad.

I was so overwhelmed by the shock of my own impudence that I stood where

Falkoner left me, for full five minutes, motionless and spell-bound.

To have boasted of my intimacy with Captain De Courcy, although the

Atlantic rolled between us, was bad enough, in all conscience; but to

have talked of Sir Dudley--the haughty, insolent, overbearing Sir Dudley

Broughton--as "my old friend," was something that actually appalled me.

How could my vain boastfulness have so far got the better of my natural

keenness; how could my silly self-sufficiency have carried me so

far? "Ah," thought I, "it was not the real Con Cregan who spoke

such ineffable folly; these were the outpourings of that diabolical

'Thumbo-rig.'"

While, therefore, I entered into a bond with myself to eschew that

insidious compound in future, I also adopted the far more imminent and

important resolve, to run away from New Orleans. Another sun must not

set upon me in that city, come what might. With a shudder, I called to

mind Sir Dudley's own avowal of his passion as a hater, and I could not

venture to confront such danger.

I accordingly hastened to my miserable lodging, and, packing up my few

clothes, now reduced to the compass of a bundle in a handkerchief, I

paid my bill, and, on a minute calculation of various pieces of strange

coinage, found myself the possessor of four dollars and a quarter,--a

small sum, and something less than a cent for every ten miles I was

removed from my native land. What meant the term "country," after all,

to such as me? He has a country who possesses property in it, whose

interests tie him to the soil, where his name is known and his presence

recognized; but what country belongs to him where no resting-place is

found for his weary feet, whose home is an inn, whose friends are the

fellow-travellers with whom he has journeyed? The ties of country, like

those of kindred, are superstitions,--high and holy ones sometimes, but

still superstitions. Believe in them if you can, and so much the better

for you; but in some hour the conviction will come that man is of every

land.

Thus pondering, I trudged along at a smart pace, my bundle on a stick

over my shoulder, never noticing the road, and only following the way

because it seemed to lead out of the city. It was a gorgeous morning;

the sun glittered on the bright roofs, and lit up the gay terraces of

the houses, where creepers of every tint and foliage were tastefully

entwined and festooned, as these people knew so well to dispose.

Servants were opening windows, displaying handsomely-furnished rooms,

replete with every luxury, as I passed; busy housemaids were brushing,

and sweeping, and polishing; and shining niggers were beating carpets

and shaking hearthrugs, while others were raking the gravel before the

doors, or watering the rich magnolias and cactuses that stood sentinel

beneath the windows. Carriages, too, were washing, and high-bred horses

standing out to be groomed,--all signs of wealth and of the luxuries of

the rich men, whose close-drawn curtains portended sleep. "Ay," thought

I, "there are hundreds here, whose weightiest evil would be that they

awoke an hour earlier than their wont; that their favorite Arab had

stood on a sharp stone; that some rude branch had scratched the rich

varnish on their chariot: while I wander along, alone and friendless, my

worldly substance a few dollars." This disparity of condition of course

occurs to the mind of every poor man; but it only is a canker to him who

has had a glimpse, be it ever so fleeting, of a life of luxury and ease.

For this reason, the servant-class will always be a great source of

danger to our present social condition; seeing the weakness, the folly,

and sometimes the worse than folly of those they serve, viewing, from

a near point, the interior lives of those who, seen from afar, are

reckoned great and illustrious,--they lose the prestige of respect

for the distinguishing qualities of station, and only yield it to

the outward symbols,--the wealth and riches. What Socialists are our

butlers; what Democrats our footmen; what Red Republicans are our cooks;

what a Leveller is the gardener! For all your "yellow plush," you are

Sans-culottes, every man of you.

Now, I deem it a high testimony to my powers of judgment that I never

entertained these views. On the contrary, I always upheld the doctrine

that society, like a broken thigh-bone, did best on an "inclined plane,"

and I repudiated equality with the scorn a man six feet high would feel

were he told that the human standard was to be four and a half. The only

grudge I did feel towards the fortunate man of wealth was that I should

lose so many brilliant years of life in acquiring--for acquire it I

would--what I would far rather employ in dispensing. A guinea at

twenty is worth a hundred at thirty, a thousand at forty, a million at

sixty,--that's the geometrical mean of life. Glorious youth, that only

needs "debentures" to be divine!

My head became clearer and my brain more unclouded as I walked along in

the free air of the morning, and I felt that with a cigar I should both

compose my vagrant fancies, and cheat myself out of the necessity of

a breakfast. Excellent weed! that can make dulness imaginative, and

imagination plodding; that renders stupid men companionable to clever

ones, and gives a meek air of thought to the very flattest insipidity!

I searched my pocket for the little case that contained my Manillas, but

in vain; I tried another,--like result. How was it? I always carried it

in my great-coat: had I been robbed? I could not help laughing at the

thought, it sounded so ineffably comic. I essayed again, alas! with no

better success. Could I have placed it in the breast-pocket? What! there

is no breast-pocket! How is this, Con? Has Thumbo-rig its influence over

you yet? I passed my hand across my brow, and tried to remember if the

breast-pocket had only been a tradition of another coat, or what had

become of it. Pockets do not close from being empty, like county banks,

nor do they dry up, like wells, from disuse.

"No, no; there certainly was once one here." As I said this, what was

my amazement to find that the pocket for which I had been searching

had changed sides, and gone from left to right! "Oh, this is too bad!"

thought I; "with a little more punch, I could have fancied that I had

put my coat on wrong-sided. Here is a mystery!" said I, "and now, to

solve it patiently;" and so I sat me down by the wayside, and, laying my

bundle on the ground, began to reflect.

Reflection, I soon found, was of no use. Habit--the instinct of

custom--showed me that my pocket had always been to the left; my right

hand sought the spot with an almost mechanical impulse, whereas my left

wandered about like a man in search of his newly-taken lodging. As I

came to this puzzling fact, my fingers, deeply immersed in the pocket,

came in contact with a small leather case. I drew it forth; it was not

mine,--I had never seen it before! I opened it; there was nothing within

but a small piece of card, with the words, "Full Share Ticket," on top,

and, underneath, the figures, '438."

From the card, my eyes reverted to the coat itself; and now I saw, with

a surprise I cannot convey, that it was not my own coat, but another

man's, I was wearing. The negro at the ordinary had assisted me to put

it on. It was the only one, indeed, remaining, as I came away, and some

other had carried off mine. So far, it was a fair exchange, of which I

was not in any way accountable, seeing that I performed a mere passive

part; taking--and even that unwillingly--what was left me. Certain

threadbare symptoms about the cuffs, and a missing button or two, also

showed me that I was no gainer by the barter. Was it worth while to go

back? Were the chances of recovering my own equal to the risk of being

myself discovered? I thought not. It was decidedly a shabby investment,

and, now that I examined it more closely, a very miserable substitute

for my own. I was vexed at the occurrence, and could not help

reflecting, in very severe terms, upon the breach of honor such an act

displayed. "Lie down with dogs, Master Con," says the adage, "and see

if you don't get up with fleas!" "Such company as you passed the evening

with were assuredly not above a piece of roguery like this." Falkoner it

could not be; and I own that I was glad to know that, since he was much

taller than me; nor could I remember one who was near enough my own size

to make me suppose him the culprit; and so I ended by attributing the

knavery to the negro, who probably had kept this ancient vestment for a

moment of substitution.

It may be inferred, from the difficulty of solution in the case of this

very simple occurrence, that my faculties were not pre-eminently clear

and lucid, and that the vapor of the Thumbo-rig still hung heavily over

me; such, I am bound to own, was the fact. Every event of the previous

night was as shadowy and imperfect as might be. It was only during the

last half-hour of my conversation with Falkoner that I was completely

conscious of all said and done around me. Previous to this, my mind had

established a kind of Provisional Government over my rebellious ideas,

and, like most such bodies, its edicts had little force, for they were

based on but a weak prestige.

Now then came a question of this strange-looking piece of card, with

the numbers on which, by some wonderful process, I seemed to myself

perfectly familiar,--nay, I felt that they were, from some hidden cause,

recorded facts in my memory. All I could remember of the night before

threw little light upon the matter, and I wondered on, striving to

pierce the dull mist of uncertainty that enveloped all my thoughts;

by this time, I had reached the bank of the river, and could perceive,

about half a mile off, down the stream, a tall-masted smack getting

ready for sea,--her blue-peter fluttered at the mast-head, and the

pleasant "yo-ho!" of the sailors kept time with the capstan-bars as

they heaved at the anchor. The wind was a nor'-wester, and beat with

impatient gusts the loose canvas that hung ready to be shaken out, while

the stream rushed rapidly along her sides.

"Would I were to sail in you, wherever your voyage tended!" was my

exclamation; and I sat down to watch the preparations, which the loud

commands of the skipper seemed to hasten and press forward. So occupied

was I with the stir and bustle on board the craft, where everything was

done with a lightning speed, that I did not remark a boat's crew who

sat leaning on their oars beside the wall of the stream; and it was only

when an accidental sound of their voices struck me that I saw them.

"That's a signal to come away, Ben!" said one of the men. "He 'll not

wait no longer!"

"And why should he lose a tide for any land-lugger of them all? It's not

every day, besides, we get a nor'-wester like this!"

"Well, what d'ye mean to do?" asked the former speaker.

"Give him ten minutes more, Ben," cried another. "Let's have a chance of

a dollar apiece, anyhow!"

"There goes a shot!" said the man called Ben, as he pointed to the

smack, from whose bow-port the smoke was lazily issuing. "I'll not stay

here any longer; shove her away, lads!"

CHAPTER XIX. ON BOARD THE 'CHRISTOBAL'

Without further delay, the men prepared to obey the summons. The boat's

chain was cast off, and, as she swung out from the wall, I could see a

small standard at her stern, carrying a little white flag, which, as the

breeze wafted towards mer showed the enigmatical number 438.

I sprang to my legs and uttered a cry of surprise.

"Well, what is it, master?" said Ben, looking up, and probably expecting

to see me take a header into the muddy stream.

"That's the number!" cried I, not knowing what I said. "That's the very

number!"

"Very true, master, so it is, but you ha'n't got the counterpart, I

guess!"

"Yes, but I have, though!" said I, producing the ticket from the

pocket-book.

"Why, darn me if that a'n't himself!" cried the men; and they sung out

three hearty cheers at the discovery.

"Were you there long, old fellow?" said Ben.

"About half an hour," said I.

"Tarnation! and why did ye keep us a-waitin'? didn't you see the tide

was on the ebb, and that Christy was making signals every five minutes

or so?"

"I was waiting--waiting--"

"Waiting for what? I 'd like to know."

"Waiting for my baggage," said I, taking a long breath.

"An' it ain't come yet?"

"No; I 'm afraid they missed the road."

"Be that as it may, master, I'll not stay longer. Come along without

your kit, or stay behind with it, whichever you please."

"Hang the traps!" said I, affecting a bold carelessness; "I've a few

things there I left out loose, that will do. When shall we be there?"

This was a leading question, for I did not yet know whither we were

bound.

"At Galveston? Well, to-morrow evening or by nightfall, I guess, if

the wind hold. Sit down there and make yourself snug; there's always

a little splash of a sea in this river. And now, lads, pull away,--all

together!"

A second shot from the smack announced that her anchor was tripped, and

we saw her now lurch over as her foresail filled.

The men pulled vigorously, and in about twenty minutes I stood upon the

deck of the "Christobal," making sundry excuses to her skipper for being

late, and assuring him, on the faith of a gentleman, that I had utterly

forgotten all about my voyage till the last moment.

"They only sent me the number from the office late last night," said he,

"and told me to look out for the gemman about the docks. But I war n't

goin' to do that, I said. He's got a passage and grub to Galveston,--as

good as ere a gemman can desire; he's won a nag they says is worth

seven or eight hundred dollars, with furniture and arms for the new

expedition; and I take it them things is worth a-looking arter,--so darn

me blue if I gives myself no trouble about 'em."

These scattered hints were all I wanted. The sea-breeze had restored me

to my wonted clearness, and I now saw that "438" meant that I had won a

free passage to Texas, a horse and a rifle when I got there; so far, the

"exchange of coats" was "with a difference." It was with an unspeakable

satisfaction that I learned I was the only passenger on board the

"Christobal." The other "gentlemen" of the expedition had either already

set out or abandoned the project, so that I had not to undergo any

unpleasant scrutiny into my past life, or any impertinent inquiry

regarding my future.

Old Kit Turrel, the skipper, did not play the grand inquisitor on me.

His life had been for the most part passed in making the voyage to and

from New Orleans and Galveston, where he had doubtless seen sufficient

of character to have satisfied a glutton in eccentricity. There was not

a runaway rogue or abandoned vagabond that had left the coast for years

back, with whose history he was not familiar. You had but to give him a

name, and out came the catalogue of his misdeeds on the instant.

These revelations had a prodigious interest for me. They opened the book

of human adventure at the very chapter I wanted. It was putting a keen

edge upon the razor to give _me_ the "last fashions in knavery,"--not

to speak of the greater advantage of learning the success attendant on

each, since "Kit" could tell precisely how it fared with every one who

had passed through his hands.

He enlightened me also as to these Texan expeditions, which, to use his

own phrase, had never been anything better than "almighty swindles,"

planted to catch young flats from the north country, the Southerns being

all too "crank" to be done.

"And is there no expedition in reality?" said I, with all the horror

of a man who had been seduced from home, and family, and friends, under

false pretences.

"There do be a dash now and then into the Camanche trail when buffaloes

are plenty, or to bring down a stray buck or so. Mayhap, too, they cut

off an Injian fellow or two, if he linger too late in the fall; and

then they come back with wonderful stories of storming villages, and

destroying war-parties, and the rest of it; but we knows better. Most of

'em 'ere chaps are more used to picklocks than rifles, and can handle a

'jemmy' better than a 'bowie-knife.'"

"And in the present case, what kind of fellows are they?"

He rolled a tobacco quid from side to side of his mouth, and seemed to

hesitate whether he would speak out.

"There is no danger with me, Captain; I am an Englishman, a perfect

stranger here, and have never seen or heard of a man amongst them."

"I see _that_," said he; "and your friends must be rank green 'uns to

let you go and join this trail,--that's a fact."

"But what are they?"

"Well, they call 'emselves horse-dealers; but above Austin there, and

along by Bexar, they call 'em horsestealers!" and he laughed heartily at

the excessive drollery of the remark.

"And where do they trade with their cattle?"

"They sells 'em here, or up in the States away north sometimes; but they

picks up the critters along the Chehuhua Line, or down by Aguaverde,

or San Pueblo. I 've known 'em to go to Mexico too. When they don't get

scalped, they 've rather good fun of it; but they squable a bit now and

then among 'emselves; and so there's a Texan proverb that 'buffalo-meat

in spring is as rare as a mustang merchant with two eyes!'"

"What does that mean?"

"They gouge a bit down there, they do,--that's a fact. I 've known two

or three join the Redmen, and say Injians was better living with, than

them 'ere."

"I own your picture is not flattering."

"Yes, but it be, though! You don't know them chaps; but I know 'em,--ay,

for nigh forty year. I 'm a-livin' on this 'ere passage, and I've seen

'em all. I knew Bowlin Sam, I did!" From the manner this was said, I saw

that Bowlin Sam was a celebrity, to be ignorant of whom was to confess

one's self an utter savage.

"To be sure, I was only a child at the time; but I saw him come aboard

with the negro fellow that he followed up the Red River trail. They

were two of the biggest fellows you could see. Sam stood six feet

six-an'-a-quarter; the Black was six feet four,--but he had a stoop in

his shoulders. Sam tracked him for two years; and many's the dodge they

had between 'em. But Sam took him at last, and he brought him all the

way from Guajaqualle here, bound with his hands behind him, and a log of

iron-wood in his mouth; for he could tear like a juguar.

"They were both on 'em ugly men,--Sam very ugly! Sam could untwist the

strongest links of an iron boat-chain, and t' other fellow could bite a

man-rope clean in two with his teeth. 'The Black' eat nothing from the

time they took him; and when they put him into the shore-boat, in the

river, he was so weak they had to lift him like a child. Well, out they

rowed into the middle of the stream, where the water is roughest among

the 'snags,' and many a whirlpool dashing around 'atween the bows of

the 'sawyers.' That's the spot you 're sure to see one of these young

sharks,--for the big chaps knows better than to look for their

wittals in dangerous places,--while the water is black, at times, with

alligators. Well, as I was sayin', out they rowed; and just as they

comes to this part of the stream, the black fellow gives a spring, and

drives both his heavy ironed feet bang through the flooring-plank of the

boat. It was past bailin'; they were half swamped before they could

ship their oars; the minute after, they were all struggling in the river

together. There were three besides the nigger; but he was the only one

ever touched land again. He was an Antigua chap, that same nigger; and

they knows sharks and caymans as we does dog-fish: but, for all that, he

was all bloody, and had lost part of one foot, when he got ashore."

"Why had he been captured? What had he done?" "What had n't he done!

That same black murdered more men as any six in these parts; he it

was burned down Che-coat's mill up at Brandy Cove, with all the people

fastened up within. Then he run away to the 'washings' at Guajaqualle,

where he killed Colonel Rixon, as was over the 'Placer.' He cut him in

two with a bowie-knife, and never a one guessed how it happened, as the

juguars had carried off two or three people from the 'washins '; but

the nigger got drunk one night, and began a-cuttin' down the young

hemlock-trees, and sayin', 'That's the way I mowed down Buckra'

Georgy,'--his name was George Rixon. Then he bolted, and was never seen

more. Ah, he was a down-hard 'un, that fellow Crick!"

"Crick,--Menelaus Crick!" said I, almost springing up with amazement as

I spoke.

"Just so. You 've heard enough of him 'fore now, I guess."

The skipper went on to talk about the negro's early exploits, and the

fearful life of crime which he had always pursued; but I heard little of

what he said. The remembrance of the man himself, bowed down with years

and suffering, was before me; and I thought how terribly murder is

expiated, even in those cases where the guilty man is believed to have

escaped. So is it; the dock, the dungeon, and the gallows can be mercies

in comparison with the self-torment of eternal fear, the terror of

companionship, or the awful hell of solitude! The scene at Anticosti and

the terrific night in the Lower Town of Quebec rose both together to

my mind, and so absorbed my thoughts that the old skipper, seeing my

inattention, and believing that I was weary and inclined for sleep, left

me for the deck; and I lay still, pondering over these sad themes.

At last I roused myself and went on deck. The city had long since

disappeared from view, and even the low land at the mouth of the river

had faded in the distance; while, instead or the yellow, polluted

flood of the Mississippi, the blue waves, shining and sparkling, danced

merrily past, or broke in foam-sheets at the bow. The white sails were

bent like boards, firm and immovable before the breeze, and the swift

vessel darted her way onward as proudly as though her freight were

something prouder and better than a poor adventurer, without one in the

wide world who cared whether he won or lost the game with Fortune.

My spirits rose every mile we left New Orleans behind us; I felt,

besides, that to bring my skill to such a market was but to carry "coals

to Newcastle;" nor, from the skipper's account, did Texas offer a much

more favorable field. However, it smacked of adventure; the very name

had a charm for me; and I thought I should far rather confront actual

danger than live a life of petty schemes and small expedients. But what

a strange crucible is the human heart! here was I, placed in a situation

to which an incident had elevated me,--of a kind which a more scrupulous

sense of honor would have made some shudder at,--fancying, ay, and

persuading myself too, that, in the main, I possessed very admirable

sentiments and most laudable ambitions; that the occasional little

straits to which I was reduced were only so many practical jokes played

on me by "Fate," which took, doubtless, a high delight in the ingenuity

by which I always fell on my feet,--while I felt certain that, were I

only fairly treated, a more upright, honorable, straightforward young

gentleman never lived than I should prove!

"Let Dame Fortune only deal me trumps," said I, "and I'll promise never

'to look into my neighbor's hand.'" Gentle reader, you smile at my

humility; well, then, it's clear you are neither a secretary of state

nor a railway director,--that's all.

We dropped anchor off Galveston just as the sun was setting; and the

evening being calm, and the reflection of the houses and steeples in the

water sharp and defined, the scene was sufficiently striking. The city

itself was more important as to size and wealth than I had anticipated,

and the office of the "Texan Expedition," held at the "Moon," a

great coffee-house on the Quay, impressed me most favorably with the

respectability and pretensions of my "Co-expeditionaries." Old Kit

presented me to the secretary--a very knavish-looking fellow in

spectacles of black gauze--as the winner of the great prize, which, to

my excessive mortification, I learned was at Houston, about eighty miles

farther up the Bay.

I apologized for my careless dress by stating that my baggage had been

unfortunately left behind at New Orleans, and that in my haste I had

been obliged to come on board with actually nothing but the few dollars

I had in my pocket.

"That's a misfortune easily repaired, sir," said the gauze-eyed

secretary; "you can have your 'credit' cashed here just as liberally as

at any town in the country."

"I have no doubt of that," responded I, somewhat tartly, for I did not

fancy this allusion to banks and bankers; "but all my papers are in my

portmanteau."

"Provoking, certainly," said he, taking a long pinch of snuff,--"ain't

it, Kit?"

But Kit only scratched his nose, and looked puzzled.

"Are your bankers Vicars and Bull, sir?"

"No," said I, "my credits are all on a Northern house; but I fancy my

name is tolerably well known. You 've heard of the Cregans, I suppose."

"Cregan--Cregan," repeated he a couple of times; then, opening a

huge ledger at the letter C, ran his eye down a long column.

"Crabtree--Crossley--Croxam--Crebell--Creffet--Cregmore. It is not

Cregmore, sir?"

"No, Cregan is the name."

"Ah, well, there's no Cregan. There was a Cregmore was 'lynched' here,

I see by the mark in the book, and we have a small trunk waiting to be

claimed, belonging to him."

"That ain't the fellow as purtended to be winner of the wagon team that

was lotteried here a twelvemonth since, is it?" said Kit.

"Yes, but it is, though. He made out he had the ticket all right and

straight, when up comes one Colonel Jabus Harper, and showed the real

thing; and the chaps took it up hotly, and they lynched Cregmore that

evening."

"Yes, sir, that's a fact," quoth Kit.

"What was the penalty?" asked I, with a most imposing indifference.

"They hanged him up at Hall's Court yonder. I ain't sure if he be n't

hanging there still."

"And this packet," said I, for the theme was excessively distasteful,

"when does she sail?"

"She starts to-night at twelve,--first cabin, two dollars; steerage,

one-twenty."

"Thank you," said I, touching my hat with the condescending air one

occasionally employs to humiliate an inferior, by its mingled pride and

courtesy; and I turned into the street.

"You ain't a-going to Hall's Court, are you?" said Kit, overtaking me.

"Of course not," responded I, indignantly. "Such sights are anything but

pleasurable."

"He ain't all right, that 'un," said Gauze-eyes, as old Kit re-entered

the office, and I stepped back to listen.

"Well, I don't know," muttered the other; "I 'm a-think-ing it be

doubtful, sir. He ha' n't got much clink with him, that's a fact."

"I have half a mind to send Chico up in the boat to-night, just to dodge

him a bit."

"Well, ye might do it," yawned the other; "but Chico is such an almighty

villain that he'll make him out a rogue or a swindler, at all events."

"Chico is smart, _that_ I do confess," said the other, with a grin.

"And he do look so uncommon like a vagabond, too; Chico, I don't like

him."

"He can look like anything he pleases, Chico can. I've seen him pass for

a Pawnee, and no one ever disciver it."

"He 's a rank coward, for all that," rejoined the skipper; "and he can

put no disguise upon _that_."

The sound of feet, indicative of leaving, made me hasten from the

spot, but in a mood far from comfortable. With the fate of my ingenious

predecessor in "Hall's Court" before me, and the small possibility of

escaping the shrewd investigations of "Chico," I really knew not what

course to follow. The more I reflected, however, the less choice was

there at my disposal; the bold line, as generally happens, being not

a whit more dangerous than the timid path, since, were I to abandon my

prize, and not proceed to Houston, the inevitable Chico would only be

the more certain to discover me.

My mind was made up; and, stepping into a shop, I expended two of my

four dollars in the purchase of a "revolver,"--second-hand, but an

excellent weapon, and true as gold. A few cents supplied me with some

balls and powder; and, thus provided, I took my way towards the

wharf where the steamer lay, already making some indicative signs of

readiness.

I took a steerage passage; and, not knowing where or how to dispose of

myself in the interval before starting, I clambered into a boat on deck,

and, with my bundle for a pillow, fell into a pleasant doze. It was

not so much sleep as a semi-waking state that merely dulled and dimmed

impressions,--a frame of mind I have often found very favorable to

thought. One is often enabled to examine a question in this wise, as

they look at the sun through a smoked glass, and observe the glittering

object without being blinded by its brilliancy. I suppose the time I

passed in this manner was as near an approach to low spirits as I am

capable of feeling; for of regular downright depression, I know as

little as did Nelson of fear.

I bethought me seriously of the "scrape" in which I found myself, and

reflected with considerable misgivings upon the summary principles

of justice in vogue around me; and yet the knavery was not of my own

seeking. Like Falstaff's honor, it was "thrust upon me." I was innocent

of all plot or device. "Le diable qui se mêle en tout "--never was there

a truer saying--would have it that I should exchange coats with another,

and that this confounded ticket should be the compensation for worn

seams and absent buttons.

I have no doubt, thought I, but that "Honesty is the best policy,"

pretty much upon the same principle that even a dead calm is better than

a hurricane. But to him who desires "progress," on whose heart the word

"onward" is written, the calm is lethargy, while the storm may prove

propitious. I then tried to persuade myself that even this adventure

could not turn out ill,--not that I could by any ingenuity devise how it

should prove otherwise; but I knew that Fortune is as skilful as she is

kind, and so I left the whole charge to her.

Is it my fault, I exclaimed, that I am not rich, and wellborn, and

great? Show me any one who would have enjoyed such privileges more. Is

it my fault that, being poor, ignoble, and lowly in condition, I have

tastes and aspirations at war with my situation? These ought rather to

be stimulants to exertion than caprices of Fortune. I like the theory

better, too; and is it not hard to be condemned for the devices I am

reduced to employ to combat such natural evils? If the prisoner severs

his fetters with an old nail, it is because he does not possess the

luxury of a file or a "cold chisel." As for me, the employment of small

and insignificant means is highly distasteful; instead of following the

lone mountain-path on foot, I'd drive "life's high road" four-in-hand,

if I could.

The furious rush of the escape-steam, the quick coming and going of

feet, the heavy banging of luggage on the deck, and all the other

unmistakable signs of approaching departure, aroused me, as I lay

patiently contemplating the bustle of leave-taking, hand-shaking, and

embracing, in which I had no share. A lantern at the gangway lit up each

face that passed, and I strained my eyes to mark one, the only one in

whom I was interested. As I knew not whether the ingenious Chico were

young, old, short, slim, fat, or six-foot,--whether brown or fair,

smooth-faced or bearded,--my observations were necessarily universal,

and I was compelled to let none escape me.

At first, each passenger appeared to be "him;" and then, after a few

minutes, I gave up the hope of detection. There were fellows whose

exterior might mean anything,--large, loose-coated figures, with leather

overalls and riding-whips, many of them with pistols at their girdles,

and one or two wearing swords, parading the deck on every side. It

needed not the accompaniment of horse-gear, saddles, holsters, halters,

and cavessons to show that they belonged to a fraternity which, in every

land of the Old World or the New, has a prescriptive claim to knavery.

Although all of them were natives of the United States, neither in

their dark-brown complexions, deep mustaches and whiskers, and strange

gestures, was there any trace of that land which we persist in deeming

so purely Anglo-Saxon. The prairie and the hunting-ground, the life of

bivouac and the habit of danger, had imparted its character to their

looks; and there was, besides, that air of swagger and braggadocio so

essentially the type of your trafficker in horse-flesh.

If my attention had not been turned to another subject, I would

willingly have studied a little the sayings and doings of this

peculiar class, seeing that it might yet be my lot to form one of "the

brotherhood;" but my thoughts were too deeply interested in discovering

"Chico," whose presence in the same ship with me actually weighed on my

mind like the terror of a phantom.

"Can this be him?" was the question which arose to my heart as figure

after figure passed me near where I lay; but the careless, indolent look

of the passenger as regularly negatived the suspicion. We were now under

way, steaming along in still water with all the tremendous power of our

high-pressure engines, which shook the vessel as though they would rend

its strong framework asunder. The night was beautifully calm and mild,

and, although without a moon, the sky sparkled with a thousand stars,

many of which were of size and brilliancy to throw long columns of light

across the bay.

The throb of the great sea monster as she cleared her way through the

water, was the only sound heard in the stillness; for although few had

"gone below," the groups seated about the deck either smoked in silence,

or talked in low, indistinct tones.

I lay gazing at the heavens, and wondering within myself which of those

glittering orbs above me was gracious enough to preside over the life

and adventures of Con Cregan. "Some dim, indistinct little spangle it

must be," thought I,--"some forgotten planet of small reputation, I 've

no doubt it is. I should n't wonder if it were that little sly-looking

fellow that winks at me from the edge of yonder cloud, and seems to

say, 'Lie still, Con,--keep close, my lad; there's danger near.'" As I

half-muttered this to myself, a dark object intervened between me and

the sky, a large black disk, shutting out completely the brilliant

fretwork on which I had been gazing. As I looked again, I saw it was

the huge broad-brimmed hat of a Padre,--one of those felted coalscuttles

which make the most venerable faces grotesque and ridiculous.

Lying down in the bottom of the boat, I was able to take a deliberate

survey of the priest's features, while he could barely detect the dark

outline of _my_ figure. He was thick and swarthy, with jet-black eyes

and a long-pointed chin. There was something Spanish in the face, and

yet more of the Indian; at least, the projecting cheek-bones and the

gaunt, hollow cheeks favored that suspicion.

From the length of time he stood peering at me, I could perceive that it

was not a passing impulse, but that his curiosity was considerable. This

impression was scarcely conceived ere proved, as, taking a small lantern

from the binnacle, he approached the boat, and held it over me.

Affecting a heavy slumber, I snored loudly, and lay perfectly still,

while he examined my face, bending over me as I lay, and marking each

detail of my dress and appearance.

As if turning in my sleep, I contrived to alter my position in such a

manner that, covering my face with my arm, I could watch the Padre.

"Came on board alone, said you?" asked he of a little dirty urchin of a

cabin-boy, at his side.

"Yes, Father; about two hours before we left the harbor."

"No luggage of any kind?"

"A bundle, Father; that under his head, and nothing more."

"Did he speak to you, or ask any questions?"

"Only at what time we should reach Houston, and if the 'White Hart' was

near the Quay?"

"And then he lay down in the boat here?"

"Just so; I saw no more of him after."

"That will do," said the Padre, handing the lantern to the boy.

That will do! thought I also. Master Chico, if you know me, I know _you_

as well!

The game was now begun between us,--at least, so I felt it. I lay

watching my adversary, who slowly paced backwards and forwards, stopping

now and then to peep into the boat, and doubtless conning over in his

own mind his plan of attack.

We were to land some passengers and take in some wood at a little place

called Fork Island; and here I was half determined within myself that my

voyage should end. That "Chico" had discovered me, was clear, the Padre

could be no other than him; and that he would inevitably hunt me down at

Austin was no less evident. Now, discovery and "lynching" were but links

of the same chain; and I had no fancy to figure as "No. 2" in Hall's

Court!

The silence on the deck soon showed that most of the passengers had gone

below, and, so far as I could see in the uncertain light, "Chico" with

them. I arose, therefore, from my hard couch to take a little exercise,

which my cramped limbs stood in need of. A light drizzling rain had

begun to fall, which made the deck slippery and uncomfortable, and so I

took my stand at the door of the cook's galley, into which two or three

of the crew had sought refuge.

As the rain fell the fog thickened, so that, standing close in to shore,

the skipper slackened our speed, till at last we barely moved through

the water. Not aware of the reason, I asked one of the sailors for an

explanation.

"It's the dirty weather, I reckon," said he, sulky at being questioned.

"Impatient, I suppose, to get the journey over, my young friend?" said a

low, silky voice, which at once reminded me of that I had already heard

when I lay in the boat. I turned, and it was the Padre, who, with an

umbrella over him, was standing beside me.

"I 'm not much of a sailor, Father," replied I, saluting him

respectfully as I spoke.

"More accustomed to the saddle than the poop-deck?" said he, smiling

blandly.

I nodded assent, and he went on with some passing generalities about sea

and land life,--mere skirmishing, as I saw, to invite conversation.

Partly weariness, partly a sense of discomfort at the persecution

of this man's presence, made me sigh heavily. I had not perceived it

myself, but he remarked it immediately, and said,--

"You are depressed in spirit, my son; something is weighing on your

heart!"

I looked up at him, and, guided possibly by my suspicion of his real

character, I saw, or thought I saw, a twinkling glitter of his dark eye,

as though he was approaching the theme on which he was bent.

"Yes, Father," replied I, with a voice of well-feigned emotion, "my

heart is indeed heavy; but"--here I assumed a more daring tone--"I must

not despond, for all that!"

I walked away as I spoke, and, retiring, sat down near the wheel, as

if to meditate. I judged that the Padre would soon follow me; nor was I

wrong: I was not many minutes seated ere he stood at my side.

"I see," said he, in a mild voice,--"I see, from the respect of your

manner, that you are one of our own people,--a good son of the Church.

What is your native country?"

"Ireland, Father," said I, with a sigh.

"A blessed land indeed!" said he, benignly; "happy in its peaceful

inhabitants,--simple-minded and industrious!"

I assented, like a good patriot, but not without misgivings that he

might have been just as happy in another selection of our good gifts.

"I have known many of your countrymen," resumed he, "and they all

impressed me with the same esteem. All alike frugal, temperate, and

tranquilly disposed."

"Just so, sir; and the cruelty is, nobody gives them credit for it!"

"Ah, my son, there you are in error. The Old World may be, and indeed I

have heard that it is, ungenerous; but its prejudices cannot cross the

ocean. Here we estimate men, not by _our_ prejudices, but by _their_

merits. Here we recognize the Irishman as Nature has made him,--docile,

confiding, and single-hearted; slow to anger, and ever ready to control

his passions!"

"That's exactly his portrait, Father!" said I, enthusiastically.

"Without a double of any kind,--a creature that does not know a wile or

a stratagem!"

The priest seemed so captivated by my patriotism and my generous warmth

that he sat down beside me, and we continued to make Ireland still our

theme, each vying with the other who could say most in praise of that

country.

It was at the close of a somewhat long disquisition upon the comparative

merits of Ireland and the Garden of Eden,--in which, I am bound to say,

the balance inclined to the former,--that the Padre, as if struck by a

sudden thought, remarked,--

"You are the very first of your nation I ever met in a frame of mind

disposed to melancholy! I have just been running over, to myself, all

the Irishmen I ever knew, and I cannot recall one that had a particle of

gloom or sorrow about him."

"Nor had I, Father," said I, with emotion; "nor did I know what sorrow

was, till three days back! I was light-hearted and happy; the world went

well with me, and I was content with the world. I will not trouble you

with my story; enough when I say that I came abroad to indulge a

taste for adventure and enterprise, and that the New World has not

disappointed my expectations. If I spent money a little too freely, an

odd grumble or so from 'the governor' was the darkest cloud that shaded

my horizon. An only son, perhaps I pushed that prerogative somewhat

too far; but our estate is unencumbered, and my father's habits are

the reverse of extravagant,--for a man of his class, I might call them

downright rustic in simplicity. Alas! why do I think of these things? I

have done with them forever."

"Nay, nay, you must not give way thus. It is very unlikely that one

young as you are can have any real guilt upon his conscience."

"Not yet, Father," said I, with a shudder,--"not yet; but who can tell

how it may be with me to-morrow or next day? What a different answer

should I have to give your question then!"

"This is some fancy,--some trick of a warm and ill-regulated

imagination, my son."

"It is the language my heart pours from my lips," said I, grasping

his hand as if with irrepressible emotion. "I have a heavy crime

here--here!" and I struck my breast violently; "and if it be as yet

unaccomplished, the shadow of the guilt is on me already."

"Sit still, my son, sit still, and listen to me," said he, restraining

me, as I was about to rise. "To whom can you reveal these mysterious

terrors more fittingly than to me? Be candid; tell me what weighs upon

your heart. It may be that a mere word of mine can give you courage and

calm."

"That cannot be," said I, firmly; "you speak in kindness, but you know

not what you promise. I am under a vow, Father,--I am under a vow."

"Well, my son, there are many vows meritorious. There are vows of

penitence, and of chastity, and of abstinence--"

"Mine is none of these," said I, with a low, guttural utterance, as if I

was biting each word I spoke.

"Vows of chastisement--"

"Not that, not that either!" cried I; then, dropping my voice to a low

whisper, I said, "I have sworn a solemn oath to commit a murder! I know

the full guilt of what is before me, I see all the consequences, both

here and hereafter: but my word is pledged,--I have taken the oath with

every ceremony that can give it solemnity; and--I 'll go through with

it!"

"There is a mystery in all this," said the Padre; "you must recount the

circumstances of this singular pledge, ere I can give you either comfort

or counsel."

"I look for neither,--I hope for neither!" said I, wringing my hands;

"but you shall hear my story,--you are the last to whom I can ever

reveal it! I arrived at New Orleans about a fortnight ago, on a yacht

cruise with a friend of mine, of whose name, at least, you may have

heard,--Sir Dudley Broughton."

"The owner of a handsome schooner, the 'Firefly,'" said the Padre, with

an animation on the subject not quite in keeping with his costume.

"The same; you are, then, acquainted with him?"

"Oh, no; I was accidentally standing on the wharf when his yacht came up

the river at New Orleans."

"You did n't remark a young man on the poop in a foraging-cap, with a

gold band round it?"

"I cannot say I did."

"He carried a key-bugle in his hand."

"I did not perceive him."

"That was me; how different was I then! Well, well, I 'll hasten on. We

arrived at New Orleans, not quite determined whither next we should bend

our steps; and hearing by mere accident of this Texan expedition, we

took it into our heads we would join it. On inquiring about the matter,

we found that a lottery was in progress, the prizes of which were

various portions of equipment, horses, mules, baggage, negroes, and so

on. For this--just out of caprice--we took several tickets; but as, from

one cause or other, the drawing was delayed, we lingered on, going

each day to the office, and there making acquaintance with a number of

fellows interested in the expedition, but whose manner and style, I

need scarcely say, were not good recommendations to intimacy. Broughton,

however, always liked that kind of thing; low company, with him, had

always the charm of an amusement that he could resign whenever he

fancied. Now, as he grew more intimate with these fellows, he obtained

admission into a kind of club they held in an obscure part of the town,

and thither we generally repaired every evening, when too late for any

more correct society. They were all, or at least they affected to be,

interested in Texan expeditions; and the conversation never took any

other turn than what concerned these objects; and if at first our Old

World notions were shocked at their indifference to life,--the reckless

disregard of honor and good faith they evinced,--we came by degrees to

feel that the moral code of the Prairies permitted many things which

were never sanctioned in more cultivated latitudes.

"Broughton entered into all this with a most extraordinary interest.

Nothing seemed too wild, too abandoned, and too outrageous for his

notions; and, I shame to say it, he soon made me a convert to his

opinions. His constant speech was, 'Be as virtuous as you please,

my dear fellow, among ladies and gentlemen; but pray fight Choctaws,

Pawnees, and half-breeds with their own weapons, which are either a

trick or a tomahawk.' I never liked the theory; but partly from daily

iteration, partly from a yielding pliancy of disposition, and in great

measure from being shamed into it, I gave way, and joined him in all the

pledges he gave, to go through with anything the expedition exacted.

I must be brief; that light yonder is on Fork Island, where we stop to

take in wood; and ere we reach it, I must make up my mind to one course

or other.

"As the time for the starting of the expedition drew nigh, the various

plans and schemes became the theme of nightly discussion; and we heard

of nothing but guides and trails, where grass was to be found for the

cattle, and where water could be had, with significant hints about

certain places and people who were known or believed to be inimical to

these excursions. Thus, on the map, were marked certain villages which

might be put under contribution, and certain log-houses which should be

made to pay a heavy impost: here, it was a convent to be mulcted; and

there, a store or a mill to be burned! In fact, the expedition seemed to

have as many vengeances to fulfil as hopes of gain to gratify; for each

had a friend who was maltreated, or robbed, or murdered, and whose fate

or fortunes required an expiation.--But I weary you, Padre, with all

this?"

"Not at all, my son; I recognize perfectly the accuracy of your account.

I have heard a good deal about these people."

"There was one individual, however, so universally detested that you

would suppose he must have been a kind of devil incarnate to have

incurred such general hate. Every one had a grudge against him, and, in

fact, there was a kind of struggle who should be allotted to wreak on

him the common vengeance of the company. It was at last decided that

his fate should be lotteried, and that whoever won the first prize--this

mare of which you may have heard--should also win the right to finish

this wretched man. I gained this infamous distinction; and here am I, on

my way to claim my prize and commit a murder! Ay, I may as well employ

the true word,--it is nothing less than a murder! I have not even the

poor excuse of revenge. I cannot pretend that he ever injured me,--nay,

I have not even seen him; I never heard of his name till two days

ago; nor, even now, could I succeed in finding him out, if I were not

provided with certain clews at Houston, and certain guides by whose aid

I am to track him. My oath is pledged: I swore it solemnly that, if the

lot fell upon me, I 'd do the deed, and do it I will; yet, I am equally

resolved never to survive it."--Here I produced my revolver.--"If this

barrel be for the unlucky Chico, this other is for myself!"

"What name did you say?" cried he, with a faltering voice, while his

hand, as he laid it on my arm, shook like ague.

"Chico, the wretch is called," I said, fixing a cap on my pistol.

"And why call him a wretch, my son? Has he ever injured you? How do you

know that he is not some poor, kindly hearted creature, the father

of five children, one of them a baby, perhaps? How can you tell the

difficulties by which he gains his living, and the hazard to which he

exposes his life in doing so? And is it to injure such a man you will go

down to your own grave an assassin?"

"I'll do it," said I, doggedly; "I'll keep my oath."

"Such an oath never bound any man; it is a snare of Satan."

"So it may,--I 'll keep it," said I, beating the deck with my foot, with

the dogged determination of one not to be turned from his purpose.

"Kill in cold blood a man you never saw before?"

"Just so; I am not going to think of him, when I set so little store by

myself; I only wish the fellow were here now, and I'd show you whether

I'd falter or not."

"Poor Chico,--I could weep for him!" said he, blubbering.

"Keep your pity for _me_," said I,--"I, that am bound by this terrible

oath, and must either stamp myself a coward or a murderer. As for Chico,

I believe a more worthless wretch never existed,--a poor, mean-spirited

creature, whose trade is to be a spy, and by whose cursed machinations

many a fine fellow has been ruined."

"You are all wrong, sir," said the Padre, warmly. "I know the man

myself; he is an amiable, kind-hearted being, that never harmed any

one."

"He's the fellow to die, then!" said I, roughly.

"He has a small family, unprovided for."

"They have the inheritance of his virtues," said I, scoffingly.

"Can you have the heart for such cruelty?" cried he, almost sobbing.

"Come with me when I land at Houston, and see,--that's all!" said I.

"A few minutes back, I was hesitating whether I would not land at this

island and abandon my purpose. The weakness is now over; I feel a kind

of fiendish spirit growing up within me already; I cannot think of the

fellow without a sense of loathing and hatred!"

"Lie down, my son, and compose yourself for an hour or two; sleep and

rest will calm your agitated brain, and you will then listen to my

counsels with profit: your present excitement overmasters your reason,

and my words would be of no effect."

"I know it--I feel it here, across my temples--that it is a kind of

paroxysm; but I never close my eyes that I do not fancy I see the

fellow, now in one shape, now in another, for he can assume a thousand

disguises; while in my ears his accursed name is always ringing."

"I pity you from my heart!" said the other; and certainly a sadder

expression I never saw in any human face before. "But go down below; go

down, I beseech you."

"I have only taken a deck-passage," said I, doggedly; "I determined that

I would see no one, speak to no one."

"Nor need you, my son," said he, coaxingly. "They are all sound asleep

in the after-cabin; take _my_ berth,--I do not want it; I am always

better upon deck."

"If you will have it so," said I, yielding; "but, for your life, not a

word of what I have said to you! Do not deceive yourself by any false

idea of humanity. Were you to shoot me where I stand, you could not save

him,--_his_ doom is spoken. If _I_ fail, there is Broughton, and, after

him, a score of others, sworn to do the work."

"Lie down and calm yourself," said he, leading me to the

companion-ladder; "we must speak of this to-morrow."

I squeezed his hand, and slowly descended to the cabin. At first the

thought occurred to me that he might give the alarm and have me seized;

but then this would expose him so palpably to my recognition, should I

chance to escape, it was unlikely he would do so. The stillness on deck

showed me I was correct in this latter estimate, and so I turned into

his comfortable berth, and, while I drew the counterpane over me,

thought I had made a capital exchange for the hard ribs of the

"long-boat."

If my stratagem had succeeded in impressing my friend Chico with a most

lively fear, it did not leave my own mind at perfect tranquillity. I

knew that he must be a fellow of infinite resources, and that the game

between us, in all likelihood, had but commenced. In circumstances of

difficulty, I have constantly made a practice of changing places with my

antagonist, fancying myself in _his_ position, and asking myself how I

should act? This taking the "adversary's hand" is admirable practice

in the game of life; it suggests an immense range of combinations, and

improves one's play prodigiously.

I now began to myself a little exercise after this fashion: but what

between previous fatigue, the warmth of the cabin, and the luxury of

a real bed, Chico and I changed places so often, in my brain, that

confusion ensued, then came weariness, and, at last sound sleep,--so

sound that I was only awoke by the steward as he popped his greasy head

into the berth and said, "I say, master, here we are, standing close in:

had n't you better get up?"

I did as he advised; and, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, said,

"Where's the Padre, steward?--what's become of him?"

"He was took ill last night, and stopped at Fork Island; he 'll go back

with us to-morrow to Galveston."

"You know him, I suppose?" said I, looking at the fellow with a shrewd

intelligence that he knew how to construe.

"Well," cried he, scratching his head, "well, mayhap I do guess a bit

who he is."

"So do I, steward; and when we meet again, he 'll know _me_." said

I, with a look of such imposing sternness that I saw the fellow was

recording it. "You may tell him so, steward. I 'll wait for him

here till I catch him; and if he escape both myself and my friend

Broughton,--Broughton; don't forget the name,--he is deeper than I give

him credit for."

As I was about to leave the cabin, I caught sight of the corner of a

red handkerchief peeping out beneath the pillow of the berth. I drew

it forth, and found it was Chico's travelling kit, which he preferred

abandoning to the risk of again meeting me. It contained a small black

skull-cap such as priests wear, a Romish missal, a string of beads, with

a few common articles of dress, and eight dollars in silver.

"The spoils of victory," quoth I, embodying the whole in my own bundle:

"the enemy's baggage and the military chest captured."

"Which is the White Hart?" said I, as I came on deck, now crowded with

shore folk, porters, and waiters.

"This way, sir,--follow me," said a smart fellow in a waiter's dress;

and I handed him my bundle and stepped on shore.

CHAPTER XX. THE LOG-HUT AT BRAZOS

I was all impatience to see my prize: and scarcely had I entered the inn

than I passed out into the stable-yard, now crowded with many of those

equestrian-looking figures I had seen on board the steamer.

"Butcher's mare here still, Georgie?" said a huge fellow, with high

boots of red-brown leather, and a sheepskin capote belted round him with

a red sash.

"Yes, Master Seth, there she stands. You'll be getting a bargain of her,

one of these days."

"If I had her up at Austin next week for the fair, she 'd bring a few

hundred dollars."

"You 'd never think of selling a beast like that at Austin, Seth?" said

a bystander.

"Why not? Do you fancy I 'll bring her into the States, and see her

claimed in every town of the Union? Why, man, she's been stolen once

a month, that mare has, since she was a two-year-old. I knew an old

general up in the Maine frontier had her last year; and he rid her

away from a 'stump meeting' in Vermont, in change of his own

mule,--blind,--and never know'd the differ till he was nigh home. I

sold her twice, myself, in one week. Scott of Muckleburg stained her

off fore-leg white, and sold her back, as a new one, to the fellow who

returned her for lameness; and she can pretend lameness, she can."

A roar of very unbelieving laughter followed this sally, but Seth

resumed,--

"Well, I'll lay fifty dollars with any gentleman here that she comes out

of the stable dead lame, or all sound, just as I bid her."

Nobody seemed to fancy this wager; and Seth, satisfied with having

established his veracity, went on,--

"You 've but to touch the coronet of the off-foot with the point of your

bowie,--a mere touch, not draw blood,--and see if she won't come out

limping on the toe, all as one as a dead breakdown in the coffin joint;

rub her a bit then with your hand,--she 's all right again! It was

Wrecksley of Ohio taught her the trick; he used to lame her that way,

and buy her in, wherever he found her."

"Who's won her this time?" cried another.

"I have, gentlemen," said I, slapping my boot with my cane, and

affecting a very knowing air as I spoke. The company turned round and

surveyed me some seconds in deep silence.

"You an't a-goin' to ride her, young 'un?" said one, half

contemptuously.

"No, he an't; the gent's willin' to sell her," chimed in another.

"He's goin' to ax me three hundred dollars," said a third, "an' I an't

a-goin' to gi' him no more than two hundred."

"You are all wrong, every man of you," said Seth. "He's bringing her to

England, a present for the Queen, for her own ridin'."

"And I beg to say, gentlemen, that none of you have hit upon the right

track yet; nor do I think it necessary to correct you more fully. But

as you appear to take an interest in my concerns, I may mention that

I shall want a hack for my servant's riding,--a short-legged,

square-jointed thing, clever to go, and a good feeder, not much above

fourteen hands in height, or four hundred dollars in price. If you

chance upon this--"

"I know your mark."

"My roan, with the wall-eye. You don't mind a walleye?"

"No, no! my black pony mare's the thing the gent's a lookin' for."

"I say it's nothing like it," broke in Seth. "He's a-wantin' a half-bred

mustang, with a down-east cross,--a critter to go through fire and

water; liftin' the fore-legs like a high-pressure piston, and with a

jerk of the 'stifle' like the recoil of a brass eight-pounder. An't I

near the mark?"

"Not very wide of it," said I, nodding encouragingly.

"She 's at Austin now. You an't a-goin' there?"

"Yes," said I; "I shall be in Austin next week."

"Well, never you make a deal till you see my black pony," cried one.

"Nor the roan cob," shouted another.

"He 'd better see 'em 'fore he sees Split-the-wind, then, or he 'd not

look at 'em arter," said Seth. "You 've only to ask for Seth Chiseller,

and they 'll look me up."

"You an't a-goin' to let us see Butcher's mare afore we go?" said one to

the ostler.

"I an't, because I have n't got the key. She's a double-locked, and the

cap 'n never gives it to no one, but comes a-feedin' time himself, to

give her corn."

After a few muttered remarks on this caution, the horse-dealers

sauntered out of the yard, leaving me musing over what I had heard, and

wondering if this excessive care of the landlord boded any suspicion

regarding the winner of the prize.

"Jist draw that bolt across the gate, there, will ye," said the ostler,

while he produced a huge key from his pocket. "I know 'em well, them

gents. A man must have fourteen eyes in his head, and have 'em back and

front too, that shows 'em a horse beast! Darn me coarse! if they can't

gi' 'un a blood spavin in a squirt of tobacco! Let's see your ticket,

young master, and I 'll show you Charcoal,--. that's her name."

"Here it is," said I, "signed by the agent at Galveston, all right and

regular."

"The cap'n must see to that. I only want to know that ye have the

number. Yes, that 's it; now stand a bit on one side. Ye 'll see her

when she comes out."

He entered the stable as he spoke, and soon re-appeared, leading a tall

mare, fully sixteen hands high, and black as jet; a single white star on

her forehead, and a dash of white across the tail, being the only marks

on her. She was bursting with condition, and both in symmetry and action

a splendid creature.

"An't she a streak of lightnin', and no mistake?" said he, gazing on

her with rapture. "An't she glibber to move nor a wag of a comet's

tail, when he 's taking a lark round the moon? There's hocks! there's

pasterns! Show me a gal with ankles like 'em, and look at her, here!

An't she a-made for sittin' on?"