ity as soon as possible. I told him
that was my intention. I likewise informed Mr. Munger of the same, and
he readily consented, as Taylor's trial had been put off. Arrangements
being made with him, I expected to leave the next day. In the mean time,
I had an interview with Cunningham, who told me I must look out, for
the brotherhood in general suspected me of foul play as to the papers. I
denied all knowledge of them--for I found it my only safety to pursue
one uniform course.

He continued: "The party are determined to have them at all hazards, and
are now more convinced than ever that you are in the secret. All the
circumstances are against you--more especially since the custom-house
was broken open, which robbery was perpetrated for the express purpose
of finding the papers. It was thought if the colonel had disposed of
them, they would be found there; but now they will hold you responsible.
I bid you farewell."

On the same evening I had this conversation with Cunningham, I went with
Smith to the gambling-house: the same day, too, on which I won seventy
dollars in the flat boat--the first and dearest money I ever won at
gaming, as it nearly cost me my life--the full account of which is given
in the work previously mentioned.

On the second day after this, as I was about leaving for Mobile, I met
the gentleman who had procured my release. He advised me to depart
forthwith, promising to meet me at another time. As we were separating
he placed in my hands a box.

"Here," said he, "is a box, containing something I wish you to keep with
great care. You must not open it till I give you permission."

I took the same. It was a small box, made of oak, three inches high,
eight long, and five wide. Its possession gave me much uneasiness for
twelve years--during which time I remained faithful to my instructions.
I frequently met with my benefactor. The last time I saw him was in
Philadelphia, in 1841. I have received from him nine letters, in all, of
a good moral character, and always referring to the box. This
individual's name I have never been able to learn. No two letters ever
bore the same signature, but the identity of their contents convinced me
they were all from the same person. That mysterious box I have preserved
to the present day.

It will be remembered by the reader that I confided the papers, taken
from Mrs. B., with a man by the name of Watkins. This individual died
with the cholera, in 1832. I called up