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