to some respectable lawyer in Memphis----” at this point the speaker was breathing hard--his tone of voice almost inaudible. At his request, made by signs, he was turned over and died in a few moments without any further directions. The inmates of the cabin, besides the good woman of the house, were only a few wood cutters, among whom stood Brindle Bill, of Shirt-Tail Bend notoriety. Bill, to use his own language, was _strap'd_, and was chopping wood at this point to raise a little money upon which to make another start. Many years had passed away since he left Shirt Tail Bend. He had been three times set on shore, from steamboats, for playing sharp tricks at three card monte upon passengers, and he had gone to work, which he never did until he was entirely out of money. Brindle Bill left the cabin, _ostensibly_ to go to work; but he sat upon the log, rubbed his hand across his forehead, and said mentally, “Susan La-s-co. By the last card in the deck, _that is the name_; if I didn't hear Simon's wife, in Shirt-Tail Bend, years ago, say her mother's name was S-u-s-a-n L-a-s-c-o. I will never play another game; and--and _twenty thousand in bank_. By hell, I've struck a lead.” The ever open ear of the Angel of observation was catching the sound of a conversation in the cabin of Sundown Hill in Shirt-Tail Bend. It was as follows-- “Many changes, Bill, since you left here; the Carlo wood yard has play'd out; Don Carlo went back to Kentucky. I heard he was blowed up on a steamboat; if he ever come down again I did'nt hear of it.” “Hope he never did,” said Bill, chawing the old grudge with his eye teeth. Hill continued: “You see, Bill, the old wood yards have given place to plantations. Simon, your old friend, is making pretentions to be called a planter,” said Sundown Hill to Brindle Bill, in a tone of confidence. “Go slow, Hill, there is a hen on the nest. I come back here to play a strong game; twenty thousand in bank,” and Brindle Bill winked with his right eye, the language of which is, I deal and you play the cards I give you. “You heard of the burning of the Brandywine; well, there was an Englishman went up in that scrape, and he left twenty thousand in bank, and Rose Simon is the _heir_,” said Bill in a tone of confidence. “And what can that profit y-o-u?” said Hill rather indignantly. “I am playing this game; I want you to send for Simon,” said Bill rather commandingly. “Simon has changed considerably since you saw him; and, besides, fortunes that come across the water seldom prove true. Men who have fortunes in their native land seldom seek fortunes in a strange country,” said Hill argumentatively. “There is no mistake in this case, for uncle John had-the _di-dapper eggs_ in his pocket,” said Bill firmly.