I visited St. Louis lately, and on my way West, after changing cars at

Terre Haute, Indiana, a mild, benevolent-looking gentleman of about

forty-five, or maybe fifty, came in at one of the way-stations and sat

down beside me. We talked together pleasantly on various subjects for an

hour, perhaps, and I found him exceedingly intelligent and entertaining.

When he learned that I was from Washington, he immediately began to ask

questions about various public men, and about Congressional affairs; and

I saw very shortly that I was conversing with a man who was perfectly

familiar with the ins and outs of political life at the Capital, even to

the ways and manners, and customs of procedure of Senators and

Representatives in the Chambers of the national Legislature. Presently

two men halted near us for a single moment, and one said to the other:

Harris, if you'll do that for me, I'll never forget you, my boy."

My new comrade's eye lighted pleasantly. The words had touched upon a

happy memory, I thought. Then his face settled into thoughtfulness

-almost into gloom. He turned to me and said,

Let me tell you a story; let me give you a secret chapter of my life

-a chapter that has never been referred to by me since its events

transpired. Listen patiently, and promise that you will not interrupt

me."

I said I would not, and he related the following strange adventure,

speaking sometimes with animation, sometimes with melancholy, but always

348

Sketches New and Old