the small valise. Here,
take my keys," said the major, straightening his back, squeezing his fat
hand into the pocket of his skin-tight trousers, and fishing up with his
fore-finger a small bunch of keys. "Right on top, Jack; you can't miss
it."

"Isn't he just too lovely for anything?" said Jack to me, when we reached
the upper deck,--I had followed him out. "He's wearing now the only
decent suit of clothes he owns, and the rest of his wardrobe you could
stuff into a bandbox. English sole-leather trunk! Here, put your thumb on
that catch," and he drew out the major's bag,--the one, of course, that
Jefferson unpacked, with the galvanized-iron clasps and paper-leather
sides.

The bag seemed more rotund, and heavier, and more important looking than
when I handled it that afternoon in front of Delmonico's, presenting a
well-fed, even a bloated, appearance. The clasps, too, appeared to have
all they could do to keep its mouth shut, while the hinges bulged in an
ominous way.

I started one clasp, the other gave way with a burst, and the next
instant, to my horror, the major's wardrobe littered the deck. First the
books, then a package of tobacco, then the one shirt, porcelain-finished
collars, and the other necessaries, including a pair of slippers and a
comb. Next, three bundles loosely wrapped, one containing two wax dolls,
the others some small toys, and a cheap Noah's ark, and last of all,
wrapped up in coarse, yellow butcher's paper, stained and moist, a freshly
cut porter-house steak.

Jack roared with laughter as he replaced the contents. "Yes; toys for the
little children--he never goes back without something for them if it takes
his last dollar; tobacco for his old cook, Rachel; not a thing for
himself, you see--and this steak! Who do you suppose he bought that for?"

"Did you find it?" called out the major, as we reentered the cabin.

"Yes; but it wasn't in the English trunk," said Jack, handing back the
keys, grave as a judge, not a smile on his face.

"Of co'se not; didn't I tell you it was in the small bag? Now, gentlemen,
listen!" turning the leaves. "Here is a man who has the impertinence to
say that our industries are paralyzed. It is not our industries; it is our
people. Robbed of their patrimony, their fields laid waste, their estates
confiscated by a system of foreclosure lackin' every vestige of decency
and co'tesy,--Shylocks wantin' their pound of flesh on the very hour and
day,--why shouldn't th