. I am
completely bamboozled. Left home yesterday--brought up a couple of
thoroughbred dogs that the owner wouldn't trust with anybody but me, and
then, too, I wanted to see Jack."

I am not a colonel, of course, but promotions are easy with the major.

"Certainly; Jack lives right opposite. Give me your bag."

He refused, and rattled on, upbraiding me for not coming down to Crab
Island last spring with the "boys" when the ducks were flying, punctuating
his remarks here and there with his delight at seeing me looking so well,
his joy at being near enough to Jack to shake the dear fellow by the hand,
and the inexpressible ecstasy of being once more in New York, the centre
of fashion and wealth, "with mo' comfo't to the square inch than any other
spot on this terrestrial ball."

The "boys" referred to were members of a certain "Ducking Club" situated
within rifle-shot of the major's house on the island, of which club Jack
Hardy was president. They all delighted in the major's society, really
loving him for many qualities known only to his intimates.

Hardy, I knew, was not at home. This, however, never prevented his colored
servant, Jefferson, from being always ready at a moment's notice to
welcome the unexpected friend. In another instant I had rung Hardy's
bell,--third on right,--and Jefferson, in faultless evening attire, was
carrying the major's "carpet-bag" to the suite of apartments on the third
floor front.

Jefferson needs a word of comment. Although born and bred a slave, he is
the product of a newer and higher civilization. There is hardly a trace of
the old South left in him,--hardly a mark of the pit of slavery from which
he was digged. His speech is as faultless as his dress. He is clean,
close-shaven, immaculate, well-groomed, silent,--reminding me always of a
mahogany-colored Greek professor, even to his eye-glasses. He keeps his
rooms in admirable order, and his household accounts with absolute
accuracy; never spilled a drop of claret, mixed a warm cocktail, or served
a cold plate in his life; is devoted to Hardy, and so punctiliously polite
to his master's friends and guests that it is a pleasure to have him serve
you.

Strange to say, this punctilious politeness had never extended to the
major, and since an occurrence connected with this very bag, to be related
shortly, it had ceased altogether. Whether it was that Jefferson had
always seen through the peculiar varnish that made bright the major's