"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Fishley.

Mrs. Fishley had evidently given the distinguished visitor credit for a larger appetite than he possessed after his debauch the night before, and there was at least a pound of cold fried ham left. I took a paper bag, and put into it half the meat and as much cold corned beef as would have fed me for two days, with a plentiful supply of biscuits, crackers, and brown bread. I filled the bag full, determined that Sim should have plenty to eat for once in his life. Thus laden with enough to fill the stomach that had "nothing in it," I returned to the swamp.

"I haven't got it. What I said about Ham was the truth."

"Anywhere; it don't make any difference to me now where I go," he answered, shaking his head.

"There, carry it along, and don't spill it."