"Yet fondly we ourselves deceive,
And empty hopes pursue;
Though false to others, we believe
She will to us prove true."
On my way up the river on board the old steamer _Natchez_ (the boat
that was burned up during the war), I won some money and a check
for $4,000 on the Louisiana State Bank of New Orleans. The check
was signed by one of the largest planters on the coast, and I knew
it was good if presented before payment was stopped; so I took
passage on the _Mary Kean_ (one of the fastest boats on the river),
bound for New Orleans. We landed in the city about 4 o'clock Monday
morning. I got a cab to take me down to the French market to get
a cup of coffee before going to my room. As I was passing the St.
Louis Hotel on my way from the market, I saw a man that I recognized
as hailing from Cincinnati (I will not give his name). He appeared
to be glad to see me; but I could see he was not at his ease, so
after a little while I thought I would sound him, so I said, "What
was that trouble you got into in Cincinnati?" He looked at me in
surprise, and said: "How did you hear about it?" (there was no
telegraph line from Cincinnati to New Orleans in those days). I
told him it was all right, and he could trust me. I invited him
to take breakfast with me; he accepted the invitation, and told me
he would tell me about himself when we were in a more private place.
After breakfast, we walked over to the bank, and I drew the $4,000
on the planter's check; then we went to my room, and he told me
his story. He was a bookkeeper for a large pork house; became
infatuated with a gay married woman, made false entries, and finally
ran away with the enticing married woman. I advised him to put on
a disguise, for I knew the police would soon be looking for him.
He invited me to go with him and see his lady love, for said he,
"She is one of the truest and best women in the world." I went
with him, and met a very fine looking lady. I did not blame him
very much for being infatuated; but I wondered how much money he
did get away with, and how am I going to get my share; for I always
felt that it was my duty (as an honest man) to win stolen money.
I soon found out he had about $8,000 of other people's money, and
I wanted it. I first taught him to play poker, so he could be in
with me the first time we caught a sucker. I got Clark to play
the part, and he beat us out of $6,000, most of which was "pork
money." "The best and truest woman in the world" ran off with
another fellow, which little thing nearly broke my young friend's
heart; but in a short time he went to Galveston, Texas, got into
a large cotton house, and the last time I saw him he said, "George,
we live and learn. That little game made a man of me."