“I was in my office early the next morning after I had the difficulty with Harry. I had passed a sleepless night—a miserable, wretched night, and was nervous and irritable when I arrived there. I had not been at the office five minutes when a little negro boy came hurriedly in and handed me a letter. I saw in an instant it was from Lottie; I broke the envelope and read it eagerly:

“I had scarcely finished reading Lottie’s letter when Mr. Heartsell walked into the office and, without speaking, handed me a note from Harry. If a bolt of thunder had knocked the roof off of the house over my head, it would have startled me less than the contents of the note; but I have it here now, and will read it to you,

“‘Mr. Heartsell,’ said I endeavoring to keep control of my feelings, ‘am I to understand this as a challenge to fight a duel?’

“‘The language used is very plain, sir, and such was the intention of my friend when he wrote it.’

“‘But I am opposed to the barbarous practice of dueling. The laws of the land prohibit it, public sentiment condemns it, and if I were not opposed to dueling, I could not fight Harry Wallingford. I would not hurt him for everything in the world; and why should he wish to take my life? I never injured him—I love his sister—she is my betrothed bride; and I would as soon think of killing myself as him.’

“‘That, sir, is a matter with which I have nothing to do; but you are mistaken when you say that public sentiment condemns the code of honor. I think the very reverse of that is true; because it is considered disgraceful to back down when challenged. The man who refuses to fight when challenged is branded as a coward, and honorable men shun him as such. Did public sentiment condemn Henry Clay, S. S. Prentiss, Albert S. Johnson, General Jackson and a thousand others I might name?’

“‘Yes, but public sentiment has undergone a great change since then; and our laws did not prohibit dueling then either.’

“‘Doctor Demar, can you name any one who has ever been punished for fighting a duel?’

“‘I am sorry to be compelled to answer in the negative.’

“‘I dare say you will admit that the reason is owing to public sentiment; but to the point—what answer do you wish me to convey to my friend Wallingford?’

“‘Give me one hour to consider on the matter, and to take the advice of my friends.’

“‘Certainly; but it will be considered dishonorable to mention the matter to more than one friend; and were you to do so, it might cause the civil authorities to get hold of the affair, which you know would serve to widen the breach between you and my friend Wallingford.’

“‘Mr. Heartsell, do you know what has caused Harry Wallingford to become offended with me?’

“‘Oh, yes, Doctor Demar; your little secret is out, and you must face the music.’

“‘What do you mean by my little secret being out?’

“‘Pshaw! Demar, don’t undertake to brass it out that way, but never mind, I’ll call again at the end of an hour and get your answer. By the way, Demar, you had better accept the challenge, as that might be the shortest road to an adjustment of this business; because if you refuse to meet Wallingford on the field, he will force you to fight him on the streets. If you consent to meet him, a few rounds may satisfy him, when the matter could be settled; but if you decline, I dread to think of the consequences. You know his fiery temper as well as I do; he is very rash and inconsiderate, and is very much enraged against you. Think of these things when you are considering the proper answer to be sent. For the present, good-morning; I’ll call again for your answer.’

“For full ten minutes I sat silently gazing at space, and pondering over the situation, perfectly at a loss as to what course would be best for me to pursue. One thing I had made up my mind that I never would, under any consideration, draw one drop of Harry Wallingford’s blood. I never would point a loaded pistol at his body—I would as soon think of shooting out my own brains as his. But I knew that something must be done, and that without delay. Who should I go to for advice was the next question to be considered. I first thought of Doctor Dodson; but he was getting old, and was by nature very excitable; I decided that it was best not to mention the matter to him. At last I concluded to submit the matter to General Calloway, a personal friend who had done many acts of kindness for me during my boyhood. I knew he was brave and noble-hearted and had often succeeded in settling affairs of honor without letting the parties resort to arms. General Calloway was a man whose opinions were respected by the community, and he was personally popular with every one who knew him; I was sure that if any one could bring about a reconciliation between Harry and me, he was the man to do it. So I went directly to his quarters and stated the case to him and requested him to assist me.

“‘Let it be understood at the start, general,’ said I, ‘that I will, under no circumstances, shoot at Harry Wallingford; but if you think it best for me to stand up and let him shoot me, I will do it. No man knows whether he is a coward or not until he is tried; but I am vain enough to believe that I can stand up and let him shoot at me, if the matter cannot be adjusted without it.’

“‘What is the cause of the trouble between you and Wallingford?’ the general inquired.

“‘I have not the most remote idea; and the strangest part of the matter is, they refuse to tell me. If I have given cause for offense, I am ignorant of it; but Wallingford is so overmastered with passion that he will not listen to one who demands any explanation.’

“‘Very well, Demar,’ said the general, ‘leave the matter in my hands, and I’ll settle it without resort to arms. Meantime you go across the State line into Mississippi, and take lodgings near Horn Lake, on the line of the Mississippi and Tennessee railroad. You had better go down there this evening, and I will answer Wallingford’s note, in which I shall promise him a meeting to-morrow morning at ten o’clock. I have always found it much easier to bring about an amicable settlement of such cases on the field than in the city; and I never yet have failed to secure an adjustment, where either one of the parties desired it. But when both parties mount their high horses, then we encounter trouble. We will make Mr. Wallingford listen to reason; we will first demand of him a full statement of the grievances of which he complains, and then we will know how to start about making a settlement. Sit down a moment; I’ll write the answer to be sent.’

“‘I took a seat until General Galloway wrote the following:

“‘Now, Demar, you go to the livery stable, get a horse and buggy, and go to Horn Lake to-night. Don’t lodge in the town, nor don’t let any one know your business; in fact, you had better conceal yourself in the country near the village. I will come down early in the morning, when I feel confident we shall have no difficulty in securing a reconciliation between you and Wallingford.’

“As soon as I reached my office I wrote a long letter to Lottie; and when it was finished I sealed and directed it to her, then gave it to our drug-store clerk, and ordered him to give it to Lottie at eight o’clock on the next evening—provided I did not return by that time.

“‘Mr. Todd,’ said I, as I handed the letter to him, ‘I am going on a short journey, and hope to be back to-morrow evening. If, however, I do not return by eight o’clock, you will deliver this letter to Miss Wallingford with your own hands. You will, under no circumstances, trust it out of your possession, but carry it to her yourself.’

“He stared at me in a suspicious manner for several seconds, and then said:

“‘Doctor, if any one inquires for you what answer shall I make?’

“‘Oh, anything you choose, as to that. I suppose no one will care to know where I have gone, so they are told when I will return.’

“I then went toward the livery stable, intending to hire a conveyance to take me to Horn Lake, but met one of the railroad employes, who told me that a freight train was going out soon, and I hastened to the depot in time to jump on it as it was moving out. When the train stopped at Horn Lake I stepped off and immediately started to walk rapidly southward. I obtained lodgings for the night at a farm-house about a mile from the village, intending to meet General Calloway, early next morning, according to previous agreement. But Providence had in store for me a different fate, as you shall shortly know.

“It was nearly night when I arrived at the farm-house, and after resting a few moments I took a stroll through a patch of timbered land that lay near the house. I felt that I wanted to be alone, in order to have a reckoning with myself, and to sum up probabilities in regard to the future. I wandered along through the woods, not thinking where I was going or anything about the objects by which I was surrounded, until I found myself on the shore of a beautiful lake. Seating myself at the root of a tree, I took Lottie’s picture from my bosom, covered it with kisses and bedewed it with my bitter tears. As I held the darling picture before my tearful eyes, the question whether or not I should ever see her again presented itself to my mind. Would I be forced to fight the duel with Harry on the morrow? Would I be killed and carried back a corpse? These unwelcome queries intruded themselves unbidden on my mind. I will not admit that I was a coward, yet I did not want to die then—I had too much to live for. The scenery by which I was surrounded was surpassingly charming; the smooth, quiet bosom of the lake spread its shining surface before me, and as the slanting rays of the departing sun danced on the still waters, a thousand streaks of variegated lights were reflected against the wall of trees that lined the shore. My eyes were dazzled by the bright beauty of the scene. Large flocks of wild ducks lazily swam about on the calm surface of the water, frequently coming within a rod of where I sat, while thousands of beautiful silver-colored fishes came in droves and began to poke their heads up to the top of the water near me. Great numbers of sweet-singing birds collected on the trees above me, and filled all the air around with a delicious melody. All nature seemed to be making an effort to show me the beauties of the world that I was about to leave forever. She appeared to be arrayed in her richest costume, and soliciting me not to leave her. Why will man be so cruel to his fellow man as to try to push him out of such a beautiful world? Why can we not live as brothers and enjoy the charms of nature, instead of striving to destroy each other? What a happy world would this be if every man would live by the golden rule, ‘Do unto others as you would have others do unto you!’ Penitentiaries and jails would be unknown; locks and keys would be unnecessary; implements of war would not be manufactured; forts and arsenals would not be built; poorhouses and poverty would be unknown; police officers would be unnecessary, and court-houses would be converted into school-houses; happiness would take the place of misery, plenty would change places with want, and all the world rejoice in the unending millennium. With my mind full of such reflections, I felt humbled in my own estimation, and dropped on my knees, and, for the first time in my life, prayed aloud to God for help in this hour of great trouble. I prayed long and fervently, and whether God answered that prayer or not I shall not undertake to say just now, but leave my kind friends to determine that for themselves after my little story is ended.

“It was some time after dark when I returned to the house and found supper waiting for me; but I declined to eat any—I excused myself, and requested to be shown to a private room. A clean-looking bed stood in one corner, a wash-stand, bureau, and two chairs, constituted the furniture. There were two windows—one in the east side, the other in the south—both covered with clean, snow-white curtains, nicely looped up from the middle. A mocking-bird sat on a tree near the south window, and seemed to be exerting himself to amuse me. I like mocking-birds; but this one was hoarse, and singing out of tune; a half dozen cats were holding a meeting on top of the smoke-house. I might have enjoyed the concert under more favorable circumstances, but the state of my nervous system was such as to deprive me of the pleasure. I needed sleep, and knew that it was my duty to endeavor to get it, so as to enable me to master the situation in which I was placed. The events that were to transpire on the next day were fraught with no little significance, so far as they might result to myself. I threw off my clothes and stretched myself on the bed, first extinguishing the light, and tried to keep my thoughts away from the cat show; but that was a failure. I stood it as long as any man could have done, and would have submitted to the torture perhaps longer, but for my nervousness. I threw a glass tumbler with unerring precision—one cat went to his long home, and the concert closed. But alas! I soon made the discovery that I had jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire. The caterwauling melody was sweet music compared with the noise made by the frogs in a pond hard by. I am willing to admit that I had always been of the opinion that a congregation of cats could make the most soul-scraping noise that ever was heard; but that night I had cause to change my opinion—I award the premium to the frog; he can beat a cat to death and give him an hour’s start; a cat has to stop occasionally to fill his lungs—but not so with the frog; he seems to be all the time full of wind; at all events, no man ever heard a frog stop for breath when once he made up his mind not to do it. The frog pond was not more than fifty yards from my window. I don’t know exactly how many there were in that pond, though it must have been very densely populated, judging from the great noise they made. If frogs were worth a dollar a head, I am confident that there were enough in that pond to pay the national debt, not counting the old ones that had retired from business. I lay and listened to the frogs until my eyes began to feel heavy; and just as I was about to fall asleep in spite of the frog convention, a mosquito concluded to make his supper off of my nose. Sometimes I would actually get into a comfortable doze, when he would light and begin to put his pumps to work and wake me. I would drive him away, but he would not take the hint. In order to get rid of him, I offered a fair compromise: I was willing that he might pump as much blood out of my feet as he could chamber, and taking them from under the cover, I held them out to him; but he rejected my liberal offer with scorn, and seemed to have made up his mind to fight it out on the nose line; the result was, after a half hour’s contest I killed him, and then I soon fell asleep. It was but natural to suppose that my slumbers would be disturbed by unpleasant dreams. How could anything else be expected, harassed as my mind was with such unpleasant reflections? I dreamed of war, blood, duels, and a thousand other things too tedious to mention; but I must tell you of two of my dreams: I first fancied that I was a young tadpole, swimming about in the pond among the frogs. I was very proud of my beautiful tail, and imagined that all the frogs were dying with envy because they had lost theirs. It never had occurred to me that at no distant day I should lose my tail, and be reduced to an equality with the frogs. I was dashing about among the frogs, and switching my tail in their faces in a very rude manner. The fact is, I was tantalizing them for being out of fashion. I had the misfortune to incur the displeasure of a celebrated frog who was famous for his courage, and who possessed an ungovernable temper. I trust that my friends will not be disposed to censure me for describing such a ridiculous dream, but I am telling exactly what did occur, and not what ought to have occurred. In the first place, it will be well to remember the circumstances by which I was surrounded. I was about to be forced into a duel with a man against whom I bore no ill-will, and whom I was determined not to hurt. Then I was full of perplexity, because I did not know the cause which had induced him to challenge me. While my mind was completely unsettled by these unpleasant reflections, I was trying to steal a little sleep, in order that I might be in a condition to wrestle with the situation on the next day. Then it was a natural consequence that I should dream of duels, Tom-cats, and frogs, especially when it is remembered that the cats and frogs had conspired to keep me awake, and when in spite of them I did fall asleep.

“But let me go on with my strange dream. When I had been so inconsiderate as to flirt my tail against the nose of the high-tempered frog, I discovered, when it was too late, that I had involved myself in a serious difficulty; and hoping to escape the consequences, I sought refuge behind an old rotten log that lay in the edge of the pond. I was very much alarmed when I saw a large number of frogs collecting round the one whose nose I had so imprudently slapped with my tail. A little timid tadpole swam up close to me, and very meekly informed me that I was in great danger, as I had insulted the most important frog in the pond. I was very much disturbed by this information, and was preparing an apology to be sent when I received a message from the insulted frog. To the best of my recollection it was, in substance, as follows:

“‘General Frog presents his compliments to Colonel Tadpole, and begs to say that while bathing in his own precinct a gross insult was offered him by Colonel Tadpole, who wantonly flirted his tail in General Frog’s face. General Frog, therefore, has the honor to request Colonel Tadpole to designate a time and place when and where such satisfaction can be had as is recognized by the code. General Frog designates the bearer of this message as his friend, who is authorized to arrange preliminaries.’

“I am free to confess that I was completely paralyzed with fear when I received this message, and would have made an honorable apology, but the bearer refused to listen to reason. He demanded blood, and swore that if I refused to fight I was a dead Tadpole certain. I was about to faint from sheer cowardice when a bold young Tadpole whispered in my ear:

“‘Put on a bold front,’ said he; ‘General Frog is a humbug and a bully. Accept his challenge, make him fight with sticks six inches long and a half inch in diameter; let the sticks be sharpened at one end. A frog always has his mouth open, and you can run your stick down his throat and kill him while he is trying to get a fair lick at your head.’

“I acted on this advice, and being the challenged party, had the right to choose the weapon. Quite a commotion was caused when it became known that a duel was to be fought between General Frog and Colonel Tadpole.

“The weapons were prepared, the space in the water was measured, and ominous silence pervaded the pond (a thing that had never happened before); we were placed eighteen inches apart, and when we were ordered to take our places, I could see plainly that public sentiment was against me among the frogs, but every tadpole in the pond was on my side. When the word was given, I made a dash forward and plunged my stick down General Frog’s throat, taking him completely by surprise. The general’s friends carried him off the field, but he was a dead frog; and when it was announced that the great General Frog was dead, such a heart-rending wail as rent the air then never had been heard in the frog kingdom before.

“The unusual noise awoke me, and I was glad to find it was all a dream, and that I was not really a tadpole. I got up, lighted the candle, kissed Lottie’s picture a dozen times, looked at my watch and found that I had only slept an hour. After pacing the floor for half an hour, I again threw myself on the bed, and soon was dreaming again. While the second dream was not so full of nonsense as the first one, it was pregnant with unpleasantness. It was what I call a business-like dream—short and to the point. I thought Wallingford and I had failed to reach a reconciliation, and that General Calloway announced to me that I must fight. We fought with pistols at ten paces, and I was killed at the first fire. I suffered all the agonies of death, and as soon as my soul left the body his Satanic Majesty stood ready to take me into custody. I remember exactly how he looked; he had his aid-de-camp with him. They had handcuffs and chains to fasten my limbs. They took me down through a long space of exceeding darkness, when all at once my eyes were blinded by the bright flames that broke on my view. I started up and awoke, and saw two rough-looking men standing over me—while one held a candle, the other had a pair of handcuffs in his hand.

“‘Get up, sir, and put on your clothes as soon as you can—we want you to go with us.’

“I did as I was ordered, asking no questions. The first thing that occurred to me was that the civil authority had ordered my arrest, so as to prevent the duel; and to be candid, I was very glad of it. Anything to prevent the duel suited me, for I hated the idea of being shot at merely to gratify a foolish whim of Harry Wallingford. When I finished my toilet, one of the men locked the handcuffs on my wrists, and then commanded me to follow them. Under any other circumstances, I dare say I should have knocked a man down who attempted to manacle me; but I was willing to submit to any indignity and endure any inconvenience that would prevent the duel. I followed the officers submissively and silently, being satisfied that my imprisonment would be only temporary. I would be set at liberty as soon as my friends could arrange to make a bond. The officers put me in a buggy and began to drive rapidly toward Hernando. We arrived there a short time before daybreak, when I was placed on a train and was soon moving rapidly toward Grenada. I was unable to account for this. Why should I be carried out of the country where I had violated the law? A suspicion now began to rise in my mind that it was not the duel which had caused my arrest, and I ventured to ask one of the officers the cause of it. Instead of giving me a civil answer, he broke into a hoarse laugh.

“‘Ha, ha, ha! Tom, just listen to this rascal, will you? He wants to know the cause of his arrest. Now ain’t that brassy?’

“‘See here, old fellow,’ said the other officer, addressing himself to me, ‘that’s too thin; now you just sit down there and keep mighty quiet—none of your palaver with me! I’ve had much to do with your sort lately; they always play ignorant.’

“‘Am I arrested for attempting to fight a duel?’ I ventured to inquire.

“‘For what did you say?’ demanded the officer, apparently very much surprised.

“‘I thought I was arrested for attempting to fight a duel,’ I replied.

“‘Ha, ha, ha! Tom, that fellow is going to try the insane dodge. But look here, old fellow, that game’s played out. Your cake is all dough; you are gone up the spout this time certain. It’s a pity, though, to hang such a good-looking chap as you, but I reckon it’ll have to be done. I guess you won’t get another chance to escape; they’ll iron you down good this time.’

“My ire was roused as well as my curiosity, and I indignantly demanded to know the cause of my arrest, and where I was being carried.

“‘Come, sir,’ said one of the men, ‘none of your airs here now. If you know what’s good for you, I guess you’ll keep your mouth shut, unless you can talk with a little more sense.’

“I leaned back in my seat, and tried to collect my scattered thoughts; but I was so confused that I scarcely could tell whether I was dreaming or not. It was very plain, however, that the duel had nothing to do with my arrest; but what was the cause, was the all-absorbing question now to be settled. They spoke of hanging; what on earth could it mean? They talked about escapes and irons, etc., etc. What had I to do with all this?

“The train rattled on; the lamp cast a faint light through the coach, as the gray streaks of dawn began to steal through the windows. One officer coiled himself up on a seat just in front of me, and began to snore so loud that it could be heard above the rattle of the train. The other one sat by my side with a navy six in his belt, keeping guard while his companion slept. Every now and then he took a drink of whisky from a flask which he carried in his pocket. The train did not stop until we reached Grenada. I was then directed to follow the officers to the hotel dining-room for breakfast. I drank a cup of coffee, but could not eat; my head was aching as if it would burst, and I had a burning fever. We waited at Grenada two hours, when the south-bound train on the Mississippi Central Railroad arrived. I was conducted aboard, and again found myself flying on at the rate of fifty miles an hour. It was late in the evening when I was taken off the train, at a small wayside station, and conducted to a stage-coach that was ready to start toward the east. Myself and the two officers were the only passengers. The driver popped his whip, and we began to move on. Where am I going, and what is to be my fate? was my mental question. What will General Galloway think of me when I fail to make my appearance at Horn Lake? He will think I have fled from mere cowardice. What will Lottie think when they tell her that I have sneaked off and hidden myself to avoid a fight? My letter will be handed to her at eight o’clock this evening, and they will tell her that I have run away. My mental sufferings were very great, while my physical torture continued to increase. The fever was burning me with excessive violence, and I knew that I was going to be seriously ill. My companions were both in a beastly state of intoxication, one of them stretched on the floor of the coach, while the other nodded and snored by my side. The driver was so drunk that he could scarcely keep his seat, and when I begged him to stop and get me a drink of water, he replied with an oath that he ‘had no time to fool away.’ The road was rough and hilly, and the horses would go up the rise at a snail gallop and then go down at full speed, jolting and tossing me about like a foot-ball. My sufferings were indescribable. It was after midnight when the coach halted in front of a large brick building in the village of P——, and I was ordered to get out. I made an effort to obey, but was so ill that I could not rise from my seat.

“You will have to assist me, gentlemen” said I, “for I am very ill.’

“None of your shamming now’ growled one of the drunken brutes. ‘That’s too thin—it’s too soon to begin that game; out with you, and be quick about it, too!’

“I am really very ill, sir; and without help I am not able to stand alone.’

“Come along with you, then,—I believe you are trying to play the same old dodge; but we’ll fix you this time so you won’t get away.”

As he muttered these words he dragged me from the coach and led me into the house, which proved to be the county jail. They carried me up a pair of stairs and placed me in a dungeon, closed the door, and left me in total darkness. I sank down on the floor completely exhausted, and almost crazed with misery. The blood in my veins seemed to be boiling hot, while the fever continued to increase. My stomach felt as if it were on fire, and I was nearly famished for water. I began to crawl about the floor, hoping to find water; for I had called as loud as I could several times, begging for some to be brought, but no one had answered my cries. After searching about in the dark for some time, I found a stone jug of water that was very warm, but it was better than none. During the search for the water I found a little bundle of straw in one corner of the room, with a blanket spread over it. Throwing myself down on it, I groaned in despair. No mental torture could be greater than I suffered then; the mysterious manner of my arrest, the knowledge that I was on the eve of a dangerous spell of fever, the disgrace that would attach to my name, the opinion that General Calloway would have of me, the sorrow that would fall on my darling Lottie, all combined to drive me down to the lowest depths of despair. While all this mental anguish was conspiring to drive me mad, the burning fever was scorching and parching my blood. I well knew from the symptoms that I was seriously threatened with brain fever; I rolled and tossed myself about on the straw until I felt my brain grow dizzy. My mind commenced to wander; I cried aloud for help, but none came. With Lottie’s sweet name on my lips, her picture in my hand, I fell into a state of unconsciousness. When I regained consciousness I was a mere skeleton, unable to lift my head from my pillow, and it was a long time after my reason returned before I could remember where I was, or what had happened. A little negro boy came to the door and shoved a dish of provisions through the bars of iron, then placed a pitcher of water where I could reach it, and was turning away, when I called to him in a voice so feeble that I was astonished at the sound of it. He heard me, however, and returned to the door, and inquired what I wanted.

“‘How long have I been here?’ I whispered.

“‘You bin dar dis trip free weeks; but de udder time, afore you ’scaped, you was dar two mont’s zackly,’

“‘You are mistaken, my boy,’ said I, ‘because I never saw this place until this time.’

“‘Oh, yes, boss, you’s forgot it; you’s bin mighty sick dis time; but tudder time you broke de jail and ’scaped. Dis time you bin so sick—you cryin’ all de time—you talk heep of foolishness—you keep sayin’ Lottie! Lottie! sweet Lottie! all de time when you was sick. You crazy! De doctor sez you gwine to die, den dey won’t hab de fun of hangin’ you.’

“‘What are they going to hang me for?’

“‘Oh, yo knows what for; what yo ax dis chap for, when yo knows all about it? Didn’t yo kill mas’ Jack Clanton for nuffin’? But yo is gwine to die shoah, den ob course dey won’t hang you.’

“‘Do they think I am the man who killed Mr. Clanton?’

“‘Of course dey knows it sho’ nuff—dey seed yo do it.’

“‘But I tell you I never saw Mr. Clanton in my life, and I never saw the jail until I was brought here three weeks ago.’

“‘Oh, boss, yo is crazy yit. Don’t dis chap know ye? Didn’t dis nigger tend yo all de time? Didn’t yo try to bribe dis nigger to fetch de file? I ’spect when ye gits better you’ll ‘member all ’bout it.’

“Then he went away whistling ‘Dixie,’ doubtless believing me still out of my senses, and to tell the truth, I was inclined to that opinion myself. It seemed to me to be absolutely certain that I had either gone raving mad myself, or that I had fallen into the hands of a gang of maniacs; but the most plausible argument was in favor of the idea that my mind was wandering. My disease had run its course, and I was free from physical sufferings, except excessive weakness and a general prostration. All the hair had been shaved from my head, and my temples had been scarified all over. The room or dungeon in which I was confined was quite small—not over ten feet square. All the light and air came through a small, square, grated window, about twelve inches wide. However, during the day-time the wooden shutter of the door was left open, which served to aid in ventilating the room; but at night it was closed. Heavy iron bars crossed each other thickly in the door; and a small space was open near the floor through which the little negro usually passed the dishes that contained my food. A short while after the negro boy had left me, a man came and unlocked the door and entered the dungeon, carefully closing it when he had got inside.

“‘Well, old fellow,’ said the visitor, as he took a seat near me and felt my pulse, ‘how do you come on this morning?’

“‘Better, I think,’ was my reply, ‘though I hardly know the nature of my disease. One thing is plain—I am quite feeble—my strength is all gone.’

“‘Ah, yes, no doubt you feel very weak; quite natural you should, after such an attack of brain fever. I thought you were going to make a die of it, in spite of my humble efforts to save you; but thanks to a vigorous constitution, which you very fortunately possessed, I have been able to pull you through. You will be all right again in a few days. I have ordered you some beef tea, which you must use freely, and by to-morrow I dare say you will be able to take more solid food. Let me look at your tongue. Ah, that’s all right. You won’t leave us yet a while.’

“‘Doctor,’ said I, ‘will you be so kind as to inform me if you know why I am imprisoned in this horrible dungeon?’

“‘Come, come, my dear fellow! you had better not talk about that unpleasant affair until you get more strength. By no means let your mind run on that subject. By the by, Debar, what lady is this you have been raving about all the time? Lottie! Lottie! Yes, I think that was the name. If you called her name once, you called it fifty thousand times within the last three weeks. The fact is, you talked as if she were present with you all the time.’

“‘She is a charming girl who resides in Memphis, Tennessee, and my betrothed bride.’

“‘Ha! ha! I say, your betrothed bride; but come, come, Debar, you had better keep quiet, I reckon; for I see your mind is not exactly right yet.’

“‘Why do you call me Debar? That is not my name. I am a physician by profession. My name is Edward Demar, and I never saw this jail until the night I came here three weeks ago.’

“‘Pshaw! Debar; I had been hoping that your mind was entirely restored, but I am sorry to find myself disappointed in that hope. Is this the picture of the young lady you call Lottie?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘She must be exceedingly beautiful indeed. That is the sweetest face I ever saw. You have been holding that picture in your hand, and kissing it frequently, while your reason was partially, if not totally, dethroned.’

“‘Oh, sir, if you knew how I worship that dear girl, you would not be surprised at my devotion to her picture!’

“‘I don’t think your wife would like to hear you talk that way.’

“‘What in Heaven’s name do you mean? I have no wife—nor ever did.’

“‘Look here, Debar, you are either out of your senses, or shamming; for I know a lady who loves you devotedly, and she is your wife, too, and a very true, worthy one at that—a thousand times too good for such a scapegrace as you.’

“‘I tell you my name is not Debar; and I swear I have not been married. I never loved but one woman in my life, and that is Lottie Wallingford, of Memphis.’

“‘Ha! ha! ha! Now this is really interesting—indeed it is! You don’t know your own name! Can’t remember your pretty wife! Never was here before! Ha! ha! ha! well! well! well! I have often known criminals to try the insane dodge, but I never knew one to deny his own name and repudiate his own wife before. But good-morning, old fellow, I am to blame for letting you talk so much anyway; you just keep very quiet, and drink as much of the beef tea as you can. I will call again in the morning; by that time I guess you will remember your name; and I’ll send a messenger after your wife, as I have been told she has got back home. She has been absent a long time; that is the reason she has not called to see you, I suppose. By-by, Debar.’

“Doctor Lamberton was quite a young man, and from our short acquaintance I had formed rather a favorable opinion of him. He was very kind to me, and I learned that he had been unremitting in his attentions to me during my long and serious illness. Doubtless I would have died but for his kindness. When I was left alone, my thoughts went to work more vigorously than they ever had done before.