bet a hat we shall be let alone, like we was in
the state prison, till we get to Memphis."

The passengers about us seemed to share in
Jeremiah's confidence. They were relaxing the
tension of fear. The ladies began to speak to
each other. Two groups of men were playing
cards; a Yankee was whittling, chewing tobacco
as if for a wager, and spitting spitefully. Mrs.
Livingston and her daughters were sitting with
their arms around each other, near Mrs. Seaton
with her limp curls and tear-wet pocket-
handkerchief. Muster and I kept near Jeremiah,
who considered himself somewhat like the father
of a family in difficulties. "I never was in love
with the mighty muddy Mississippi," said he.
"I had my small amusements on the river before
the war, and Muster had his. He saved a poor
fellow from drowning just about here, three
year ago, just about now. I believe he
remembers it as well as I do. Muster, show us
how you held the man above water." He
knotted his handkerchief about a cane, and
threw it down. The dog seized the knot in his
teeth and gravely supported the cane. "That's
just the way he held the man's head above water
by the knot of his cravat. He swam down stream,
and met the boat, and when we took the poor
fellow aboard, Muster was as glad as a Christian.
Poor Greene, he'll remember you, Muster, till
he goes to kingdom come, and, for aught I
know, afterward. I must tell you about it.
We were going to New Orleens, and at Cairo
we took aboard a party that I was not happy to
see, not a bit of it. I don't like snags walking
about on two legs. The party consisted of a man
about thirty or thirty-five years old, with his wife
and a young baby, and his mother. The young
man was what I call a hard character. He wore
a grey coat and pants, and purple velvet vest,
with a massive gold, or it might be gold plated,
chain across the breast. His long black hair
was curled and shiny, and smelt like a barber's
shop. He had a red fluffy face, and his eyes
were black and wicked. He had been what
many people call good-looking—good, I do not
think he could have been with such a mother.
She was a tall and stately woman—quite as tall
as her son, and about half a century old. She
wore a false front, and her forehead was shaved
to make it look more expansive and intellectual.
I can't answer for her age very accurately, for
she was made up altogether in the most elaborate
fashion, and was dressed, even on the steamboat,
in the richest moire antique and the
costliest lace. There is not a sin of the civilised
world that was not written on that woman's face.
I have seen a great many women, with little
enough that was womanly about them, but I
never saw one who seemed to me so bad as this
gambler's mother.

"The fact is, it was a party of gamblers.
The poor little wife was a trained stool-pigeon,
and even the pretty little baby was dressed to
attract attention and lead to acquaintance. The
wife was very pretty, but struck me as a strange
compound. She seemed loving and gentle, as I
dare say she might have been in other
circumstances. She was dressed too well, and wore
too much jewellery. This I afterwards found
was not her fault. She was made to play
her part in attracting her husband's victims.
The coquetry of her appearance did not
correspond with the expression of her face. There
was a sad look in it that made me pity her.
They had come from Canada, they said, and
were going to New Orleens. I kept my eyes on
them; and so, I found, did the experienced
chambermaid, who had been on the river too
long not to know such customers at first sight.

"Among our fellow-passengers was a gentleman
who called himself Mr. Browne, who seemed
to me to be either an actor travelling incog.,
or a gentleman who intended to adopt the
dramatic profession. We got acquainted over a
sherry cobbler, became intimate with our noses
in our two first mint juleps, and when we had
a little private party in our corner, he amused us
by imitating those on board, or others we
happened to know, very cleverly. Among the rest,
he took off the roué-looking gambler, Rodden,
as he called himself, and the stately mother. He
had made up his mind about them pretty much
as I had made up mine.

"Among the other occupants of the great
cabin, where society gets about as well mingled as
you ever find it in this world, was a young man,
a Mr. John Greene, a master carpenter from
Chicago, going to Memphis. He was simple, honest,
and as verdant as his name. He got acquainted
with everybody, and told of his means, intentions,
and prospects, as if he thought everybody
as innocent as himself.

"Rodden made a set at Greene as soon as he
heard that he had money, but not by making
the first advances. The old lady talked with
him in the most motherly way about his home,
his prospects, and sweethearts. The young
wife, who seemed at times to scorn everything
about her, smiled on him sweetly, and gave him
her baby to hold. Whoever she may have feared
or hated, she loved the baby. It was, I believe,
the bond that held her to the gambler and his
mother, and made her do their infernal bidding.
But for the baby, she might have jumped into
the river to escape a tyranny that hour by hour
became more apparent to me, as I watched the
drama playing before me.

"Rodden, of course, had made up his mind to
plunder the young carpenter, and it had to be
done before we got to Memphis. They had
played in a little family party at whist and
euchre for candies and sherry cobblers, or
champagne. Greene generally won, and was confident
in his luck, and a little proud of his skill. He
was fascinated also with the pretty woman, who
could wind him round her fingers. Then he
tried his hand with Rodden alone, and won thirty
dollars, as he boasted to Browne, at half a dollar
a game. It was of no use to advise him. He
was as conceited as he was honest. Like many
very green persons, he believed himself an
excellent judge of character, and as sharp as a
needle.

"The night before we were to reach Memphis