The trip down the bay was particularly enjoyable, brightened outside on the water by the most brilliant of sunsets, the afternoon sky a glory of purple and gold, and made gay and delightful inside the after-cabin by the charm of the major's talk,--the whole passenger-list entranced as he skipped from politics and the fine arts to literature, tarrying a moment in his flight to discuss a yellow-backed book that had just been published, and coming to a full stop with the remark:-- "And you haven't read that book, Jack,--that scurrilous attack on the industries of the South? My dear fellow! I'm astounded that a man of yo' gifts should not--Here--just do me the favor to look through my baggage on the upper deck, and bring me a couple of books lyin' on top of my dressin'-case." "Which trunk, major?" asked Jack, a slight smile playing around his mouth. "Why, my sole-leather trunk, of co'se; or perhaps that English hat-box--no, stop, Jack, come to think, it is in 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.