Nothing of interest occured to our party, until the boat landed at the Simon plantations. Young Simon and cousin Cæsar boarded the boat, for passage to New Orleans, for they were on their way to the West Indies, to spend the winter. Young Simon was in the last stage of consumption and his physician had recommended the trip as the last remedy. Young Simon was walking on the outside guard, opposite the ladies' cabin, when a female voice with a shrill and piercing tone rang upon his ear--“_Take Roxie Daymon away_.” The girls were romping.--“Take Roxie Daymon away,” were the mysterious dying words of young Simon's father. Simon turned, and mentally bewildered, entered the gentlemen's cabin. A colored boy, some twelve years of age, in the service of the boat, was passing--Simon held a silver dollar in his hand as he said, “I will give you this, if you will ascertain and point out to me the lady in the cabin, that they call _Roxie Daymon_.” The imp of Africa seized the coin, and passing on said in a voice too low for Simon's ear, “good bargain, boss.” The Roman Eagle was running down stream through the dark and muddy waters of the Mississippi, at the rate of twenty miles an hour. In the dusk of the evening, Young Simon and Roxie Daymon were sitting side by side--alone, on the aft-guard of the boat. The ever open ear of the Angel of observation has furnished us with the following conversation.. “Your mother's maiden name, is what I am anxious to learn,” said Simon gravely. “Roxie Fairfield, an orphan girl, raised in Kentucky,” said Roxie sadly. “Was she an only child, or did she have sisters?” said Simon inquiringly. “My mother died long years ago--when I was too young to remember, my father had no relations--that I ever heard of--Old aunt Patsey Perkins--a great friend of mother's in her life-time, told me after mother was dead, and I had grown large enough to think about kinsfolk, that mother had two sisters somewhere, named Rose and Suza, _poor trash_, as she called them; and that is all I know of my relations: and to be frank with you, I am nothing but poor trash too, I have no family history to boast of,” said Roxie honestly. “You will please excuse me Miss, for wishing to know something of your family history--there is a mystery connected with it, that may prove to your advantage”--Simon was _convinced_.--He pronounced the word twenty--when the Angel of caution placed his finger on his lip--_hush!_--and young Simon turned the conversation, and as soon as he could politely do so, left the presence of the young lady, and sought cousin Cæsar, who by the way, was well acquainted with the most of the circumstances we have recorded, but had wisely kept them to himself. Cousin Cæsar now told young Simon the whole story.