One night, as I lay sleepless in a dark but double-bedded room, an old gentleman--a disbanded officer, I think, whose health disturbed his repose--began a conversation of a peculiar kind, and asked me whether I was not a Freemason.

Darkness, and the distance I was from him, induced a studiedly cautious reply.

But a denouement the next day followed.

This incident was the only explanation the unwonted and wholly unexpected remittance admitted.

A stranger, traveling to a southern and sickly city to embark for a distant State, perhaps never to return--the act appeared to me one of pure benevolence, and it reveals a trait which should wipe away many an error of judgment or feeling.
The voyage down this stream was an exciting one, and replete with novel scenes and incidents.