When my old friend left me, I got restless; I felt I must see you all again before I went south, as I hope to do--to-morrow, perhaps.

I felt I must clear myself from the charge of in gratitude; I couldn't live easy under it.

It was too much like a piece of dishonesty, and that I've never yet been guilty of, for all I've gone through, and, please God, never shall.

My old friend Hood and I, in days even before he had the happiness to meet you, Mrs.Hood, we used to say to each other--Let luck do its worst, we'll live and die honest men.

And, thank heaven, we've kept our word; for an honester man than James Hood doesn't walk the earth, and no one ever yet brought a true charge of dishonesty against Alfred Cheeseman.' He looked from mother to daughter.