When my turn came, and I was about to put down my name, I looked behind the desk and saw my friend, the book-keeper.  He shook his head for me not to.  I knew that meant something favorable.  I backed out.  I returned at once to the hotel.  In the evening, about 8 o’clock, my friend came to my room with a second cabin ticket.  The joys of Paradise centered into my possession of that ticket.  I asked him how did he obtain it?  He said he was about to resign his position, and was going up on the same steamer to California.  The night before the drawing he asked Mr. Nelson if his services had been satisfactory to him.  He said they had.  He then said if he should ask him a favor on leaving him if he would grant it?  He replied certainly.  He then said that he wanted one of those sixty tickets for a particular friend.  Mr. Nelson said, “If I had known what you was going to ask for, I could not have granted it; but since I have pledged my word, I shall give you the ticket.”

The next day passengers would be received on the steamer, which was anchored out in the bay, some distance from shore.  It was announced that no sick persons could go on the steamer.  As I was quite enfeebled from my sickness, and was at my best in the morning, I thought I would make an early start, so as to be sure and be aboard, as they were all to be on board the vessel to sail early the next morning.  I started out for a boat to take me out to it with the highest elasticity of feelings, not so much from the prospect of financial success as the idea that if I could get North again my physical health would be restored, and the steamer was going North.  It seemed at times that I would have given $1,000 for one good breath of Northern air.  As I was going along, some distance ahead of me, sitting at the doors of a doggery, with his head almost between his knees, the picture of despair, was my Washington friend, who waited on my room at the hotel when I first arrived, did me many favors, and got hold of my sympathies.  I said to myself, poor fellow, I can do nothing for you.  I must not let him see me, so I dodged and passed him.  When I got some distance by him my conscience smote me.  I will go back and speak to him; so I did.  I had advised him a few days previous to go and see some officers of the boat and offer to go up as waiter without pay.  I asked him if he had done so, and what luck?  He said there was no hope.  They told him they had been offered $300 for the privilege of going up as waiter.  I then told him I had a ticket.  I was going then for a boat to go on board.  That his case was desperate, and that desperate cases required desperate remedies; that he had been down twice with the fever, and the next time he would probably die; that he had no friends there nor money; if he would do as I told him I would stand by him and he must have nerve.  He said to me:  “How can a man have nerve without a dollar in his pocket?” which exclamation has occurred to me many times since.  I asked him