From the time of the visit by the Dearborn county man till the death of Colonel Brown, embracing about six weeks, there were constant and fierce wranglings among the fraternity. A considerable change had been made in the feelings of some of the colonel's former sworn friends, which of course made those who knew him innocent more bitter against any one they might suspect guilty of bringing such a calamity upon him. His friends and foes were equally interested in finding the retainer of the lost package, but all to no purpose. There was, however, but one sentiment in the Grand Council; they still believed that the colonel had them, and designed, as soon as he was liberated, to make a general exposure of the whole organization to the world. But their own consciousness of personal injury—of having acted a treacherous part against this man—was, in reality, the ground of their conviction as to his guilt; for it was not in the nature of the man to be false to his pledged honour. It only remained that they should prevent his liberation; and the most effectual way was to act in accordance with the assassin's maxim, "Dead men tell no tales." Their hatred rose to such a pitch that they began to exhibit their enmity toward any one that either sympathized, befriended, or was even familiar with the colonel. Here was the ground of their deadly animosity toward me. They supposed I was his confidant, and might be an agent for the execution of his designs.

These murderers,—(I ask no pardon for so harsh an epithet, for they were such in thought and deed,)—these Grand Masters, who visited the colonel while I waited upon him, and thus became personally known, have, ever since that event, assumed a hostile attitude toward me. It is true they have never attacked me publicly, yet I am confident they have hired others to do it. From the time I drew the money put in deposit by Sandford, and bore off that object of curiosity, so carefully concealed in the bed, until the day I was chased as a mad dog by an infuriated mob through the streets of New Orleans, and finally made good my escape through a troop of less hostile cotton snakes, as recorded in my Gambling Unmasked, I was singled out as an object of open and private hate by the whole tribe of organized desperadoes. To recover those papers, no steps were too desperate for the Grand Masters—they having any amount of money to accomplish their object; and I am now about to present the reader with another exhibition of their daring and indefatigable perseverance.

They now came to the conclusion that those papers had been given to the officers of the bank, and were deposited in the clerk's office of the United States court, to be used against them at some future day. They offered rewards to several of the inferior grade, for the purpose of getting possession of the box containing the plates, counterfeit money, and, as they supposed, the lost package. Their only hope now lay in getting that box. The time of Taylor's trial had been fixed. Mr. Munger informed me I could leave the city for a few days, and he would let me know when my services were wanted. I went to Bayou Sara, one hundred and fifty miles above New Orleans. A few days after my arrival, Mr. Munger came after me in great haste, bringing the information that a great and daring burglary had been committed the same night I left the city. The clerk's office had been entered, and the box, containing Taylor's indictments, plates, and spurious money, had been taken. Taylor's jury had not agreed, and he would get clear, in case the box could not be recovered. He informed me that I had been suspected and accused of the deed; but that he knew I was innocent, for he had inquired of the boat, and found I had left on the previous night, some time before the robbery was committed. He did not wish any one to know that he had any knowledge of my location, but told me I had nothing to fear. Indeed, I knew I could prove an alibi by more than one person, and I consented to return. While on our way back to the city, I told Mr. Munger I did not wish to go into the prison where the younger Brown was confined; I feared he had some designs upon my life.

"Do not have any apprehensions," said he, "on that account. You will not be hurt, for you will be put into the debtor's apartment, where Brown is not permitted to visit, and of course can have no chance to do you an injury."

I was placed in prison upon my return—a position of greater safety to me than any other. Being assured by Mr. Munger of protection, I went without hesitation—expecting to be released the next day. The next morning I was brought out and informed, to my great surprise, that if discharged I must furnish a very heavy bail. This was a source of alarm; but my friend calmed my fears, by saying that all would be right when I was examined; that the excitement was great, and it was only necessary to wait for the return of the Lady of the Lake—which was on a trip to Natchez, and would be back in a few days—when abundant evidence in my favour would be secured, and I would be acquitted.

In a few days, I was accordingly set at liberty. The plates and papers had been found in Natchez, and a man by the name of King had been arrested—who confessed the crime, but alleged that he had been hired by a certain party to do the deed. This King was one of the brotherhood, and had been employed by the committee of Grand Masters to enter the office and secure for them the box, by which they expected to obtain the package. In this they were mistaken, and placed in a worse dilemma than before.

On the day of my discharge I was visited by a man, to me unknown. He informed me that he had procured my acquittal, and was my sincere friend and well-wisher; that he desired always to remain the same—and would, during life, on condition that I acted in accordance with his wishes.

I considered him a strange person, to introduce himself in so singular a manner. He advised me to leave the city as soon as possible. I told him that was my intention. I likewise informed Mr. Munger of the same, and he readily consented, as Taylor's trial had been put off. Arrangements being made with him, I expected to leave the next day. In the mean time, I had an interview with Cunningham, who told me I must look out, for the brotherhood in general suspected me of foul play as to the papers. I denied all knowledge of them—for I found it my only safety to pursue one uniform course.

He continued: "The party are determined to have them at all hazards, and are now more convinced than ever that you are in the secret. All the circumstances are against you—more especially since the custom-house was broken open, which robbery was perpetrated for the express purpose of finding the papers. It was thought if the colonel had disposed of them, they would be found there; but now they will hold you responsible. I bid you farewell."

On the same evening I had this conversation with Cunningham, I went with Smith to the gambling-house: the same day, too, on which I won seventy dollars in the flat boat—the first and dearest money I ever won at gaming, as it nearly cost me my life—the full account of which is given in the work previously mentioned.

On the second day after this, as I was about leaving for Mobile, I met the gentleman who had procured my release. He advised me to depart forthwith, promising to meet me at another time. As we were separating he placed in my hands a box.

"Here," said he, "is a box, containing something I wish you to keep with great care. You must not open it till I give you permission."

I took the same. It was a small box, made of oak, three inches high, eight long, and five wide. Its possession gave me much uneasiness for twelve years—during which time I remained faithful to my instructions. I frequently met with my benefactor. The last time I saw him was in Philadelphia, in 1841. I have received from him nine letters, in all, of a good moral character, and always referring to the box. This individual's name I have never been able to learn. No two letters ever bore the same signature, but the identity of their contents convinced me they were all from the same person. That mysterious box I have preserved to the present day.

It will be remembered by the reader that I confided the papers, taken from Mrs. B., with a man by the name of Watkins. This individual died with the cholera, in 1832. I called upon his wife for the package, who returned the same to me at Cincinnati, in 1833. I found every thing as I had left it, excepting the blank parchments. They were gone. Here was a mystery I could not solve. How should a part be missing and not the whole? I never gained any satisfactory information until last summer. While travelling through the state of New York, I had occasion to visit the state's prison, where I met with a certain convict who passed by the name of Wyatt, but whose real name was Robert H. North. He gave me information about a certain "flash," or comprehensive language used among professional gamblers and blacklegs. Many of the phrases were familiar, but I never could ascertain their origin. He was soon convinced of my ignorance, and then informed me of the society whence they originated. He likewise explained the reason why I was so persecuted by the notorious Goodrich. "It is known," said he, "wherever the fraternity exist, that you obtained the package; but they are satisfied you destroyed the same, and it is well you did, or else you would have been put out of the way long before this."

I told him I had taken the package, but there was nothing in it save letters and a few blank parchments.

He laughed and said:

"If you had warmed those parchments, they would have presented an exhibition worthy of your attention."

This information made me restless with excitement and anxiety to peruse those letters and notes which I still had in my possession. I may here remark, the letters were, for the most part, unintelligible to a common reader, because of the secret language in which they were written. I had examined them again and again, without much satisfaction. I knew they were penned for the purpose of clandestinely carrying on a wholesale plunder—a deliberate imposition upon public and private rights. By frequent perusal I had become familiar with many of the terms which were often explained to me by those who were acquainted with their use, though they are used by thousands, without any knowledge of their origin.

After I commenced an exposure of the vice of gambling, I was often attacked by certain low, vulgar editors in a manner that indicated deep-seated malice. I could not account for their abuse. They would admit that society should be rid of the evil in question, but at the same time exhibited the most bitter hostility to me as one who had dared to expose the abominations of gaming. I was conscious there was something that moved them in their work of calumny not yet developed. The mystery rendered me unhappy. I was anxious to know the cause of this public opposition, and the more so, that I might satisfy the people that the whole arose from influences akin to the vice I was labouring to destroy. The secret was soon discovered, and I am now prepared to satisfy the public mind that the attacks upon my present relation to society have arisen from something more than an ignorant prejudice. These hireling editors knew I had the materials to draw their portraits at full length in all their moral hideousness; and they feared society would be thrown into spasms at the sight, and they would be hurled from their stations of trust by an enraged and insulted people. It has only been necessary in one or two instances to give them a few hints of the information I possessed, and they were hushed up instanter.

A long time had elapsed since I heard from the mysterious stranger who gave me the box,—long enough, I had supposed, to free me from obligation of further restraint upon my curiosity. It had now been in my possession several years, and I felt myself at liberty to examine its contents. Having consulted with a few friends previously, I then made known, in the fall of 1842, to Rev. John F. Wright—formerly of the Methodist Book Concern, Cincinnati—that I had such a box, and my intentions. I likewise gave the same information to Arthur Vance—formerly of Lawrenceburgh, Indiana—Mr. John Norton, of Lexington, Kentucky—Thomas M. Gallay, of Wheeling, Virginia. I informed each of them how I came by the box, and the unaccountable conduct of the man who placed it in my hands. Having opened it, I found the same number of parchments I had missed from the package, all blank in appearance. In these was a note, which read as follows:

"The parchments, now in the hands of the possessor, contain much sad intelligence, and can be read, provided they are heated. They are exposed by a brother of the band, a doomed man, one the world has known to its sorrow for forty years. May the owner and holder consider the doomed one a most kind friend for ever!

"New Orleans, May 3d, 1832."

I soon hastened to ascertain the contents of the parchments, and found the statement made correct.