One day while I was at the Plankinton I happened to be coming through the hall, when whom should I meet but Col.  Hunting, son-in-law of old Master Jack McGee, of Mississippi.  We came face to face, and I knew him at once, but he only partially recognized me.  He said:  “I know your face, but can not recall your name.”  I said:  “Don’t you know Louis McGee?” He then remembered me at once.  “Why,” said he, “my wife, my brother and all his family are here.  There is a party of us on a pleasure trip through the north.”  I soon learned that they had visited at Waukesha springs, and had been at the hotel only a few hours, waiting for the boat for Grand Haven.  I hastened to bring my wife to see them and got back with her just in time.  They were already in the ’bus, but waited for us.  We very cordially shook hands with them.  They asked me why I had come so far north, and I replied that we kept traveling until we found a place where we could make a good living.  They wished us success and the ’bus rolled away.

* * * * *

Finding my brother William.

While I was at the Plankinton House many of the traveling men seemingly liked to talk with me when they came to the coat room to check their things.  I remember one day when conversing with one of these gentlemen, he asked, all of a sudden:  “Say, Hughes, have you a brother?” I answered:  “Yes, I had two, but I think they are dead.  I was sold from them when a mere lad.”  “Well,” said he, “if you have a brother he is in Cleveland.  There is a fellow there who is chief cook at the Forest City Hotel who looks just like you.”  I grew eager at these words, and put the same question to him that I did to the man on the steamer when I was sailing:  “Has he one fore-finger cut off?” He laughed and answered:  “Well, I don’t know, Hughes, about that; but I do know this:  His name is Billy and he resembles you very much.  I’ll tell you what I’ll do, when I go back to Cleveland on my next trip I’ll look and see if that fore-finger is off.”  Now that the second person had called my attention to the fact that there was a man in Cleveland who looked very much like me, I became deeply interested—­in fact, I was so excited I could hardly do my work.  I awaited the agents return with what of patience I could command; and, at last, one day, when I was least expecting him, I was greeted with these words:  “Hello, Hughes!  I have good news for you.”  I grew so excited I could hardly stand still.  “Well,” he said, “you told me that you had a brother whose name was William, but called Billy for short?” “Yes,” I said.  “Did your brother Billy have his fore-finger chopped off by his brother Louis, when, as boys, they were one day playing together?” “Yes,” I replied.  “Then I have found your brother,” he said.  “I have seen the man in Cleveland, and he corroborates your story in every particular.  He says that he was born in Virginia, near Charlottesville,