Miss Page, after the two girls had gone to their room, expressed herself as highly delighted with the evening.

"I think we shall be great belles, Blythe," she remarked. "How they all crowded in this evening-even to the Great Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at the top."

"I suppose the Great Panjandrum is General Van der Meire?" said Blythe, laughing.

"Yes, ponderous old fellow! but his horses are simply superb. I do hope that he will ask me to ride."

"Captain Silsby seems entirely at your command."

"Yes," said Betty again, " and I shouldn't wonder, Blythe, if I were to have a-violet-sender before the winter is over." "You don't mean that you would accept him?"

"Why not?"

“Oh, your principles, of course! Don't you remember the afternoon at the spring, when you launched out against me so furiously?"

"I don't remember," said Betty, innocently. "Did I say anything in particular? But I suppose I was rather intolerant, before I knew them so well."

"Grown familiar with their hateful faces,

You first endures, then pities, then embraces!"

quoted Blythe, liberally.

"And then, Blythe," said Betty, meditatively, unlacing her boot, "I make distinctions. There are Yankees and Yankees. If Captain Silsby were a Radical, I wouldn't think of him; but as he is not, I waste a thought on him now and then.”

"General Van der Meire is a Radical, and how delighted you are when he takes you to ride! And who was that young fellow you flirted with so desperately during the summeralternating between him and Captain Silsby?"

"Lieutenant Gilbert?" suggested Betty.

"Yes; Mr. Ellis told me that his father is a great friend of

Wendell Phillips, and this young fellow is an out-and-out Radical himself."

"Oh, well, I only flirted with him," said Betty, briskly; "I never intended to marry him."

"I don't follow your reasoning, exactly; but for my part, I think it is just about as bad to make love to a man as to marry him."

"Make love! as if I would do such a thing!" said Betty, with a yawn. "I only let them make love to me-there's all the difference in the world."

Το

go

CHAPTER XXII.

THE FRENCH MARKET.

to the French market in New Orleans, it is necessary to be ahead of the sun in rising; and Blythe looked like one of its advance beams, as she came into the room where Roger Ellis was awaiting her. Blythe had that beauty which is at its fairest in the searching morning hours.

"Here is an old friend of yours," said Mr. Ellis, leading forward a spruce young lad in a scarlet necktie, whom Blythe found no trouble in recognizing as Civil Rights Bill, in spite of his clean face and smart dress.

"He seems to have suffered a sea-change," said Blythe, laughing, as she shook hands. Actually, he looks shy! How are you getting on, Bill?"

'Mighty well, thank you, Miss Blythe," returned Bill, in good English, and with an uneasy smile that was but the ghost of his former grin. "How are all the folks at home? ""

"Very well, Bill. I saw Aunt Sally just before I left, and she told me to tell you 'Howdy' for her, and said that she wanted you to write her a letter and send her a new head-handkerchief."

"I suppose Bill is quite a hero in her eyes since he has left her?" said Mr. Ellis, as they walked away.

"Oh yes, indeed! I understand that she laments him as the comfort of her old age. I don't believe that your hold on the youth is very secure.'

"I shall hold him fast enough. I've bought him, you know. Circumstances play queer tricks with a man's principles. I bought the little Billee,' and paid for him in currency notes." "And paid more than he is worth, I dare say," remarked Blythe.

how

"Not so, my Lady Blythe. I can't begin to tell you fond I am of the lad. I brought him down here with me, intending to send him North the first opportunity that offered; but, really, he is such a comfort to me-such a faithful, affectionate little fellow-that I don't like to give him up."

Blythe was looking about her with interested eyes. They were almost the only persons in the street at this early morning hour. The pleasant air blew fresh against their faces with the softness of midsummer. The houses were solidly built, and were surrounded by the ever-blooming gardens, to which the warmth and moisture of the climate give a perpetual beauty.

"This is called the Garden District," said Ellis, "and is the least interesting because the newest and most American part of the city. You must see the French quarter-' le Carré de la Ville,' as the Creoles call it. It is the only place in the United States that I know of that gives one some idea of a European town. The streets are narrow and crooked, and all the names are foreign-Bourbon, Toulouse, Chartres Royale, Dauphin, etc. It really is very quaint and interesting. You might imagine yourself in a sleepy old French town. And to add to the delusion, you will find people there who have never been in the part of the city made rude and Yankee-like by Americans; who boast that they have seen Paris the Beautiful, but never the vulgar part of New Orleans where the Yankees traffic and sell. Oh, it is a charming old city this! though its glory is passing away, and it will soon cease to be unique."

"How glad I am to be here!" said Blythe. "I hope it is an easy city to find one's way about in, for I mean to explore it thoroughly."

"You won't do much exploring alone," said Roger, pressing her hand against his arm; "you might easily lose yourself if you attempted it. All roads lead to the Levee, of course."

"Roger," said Blythe, with a blush, "I have heard of the Levee all my life, but I give you my word I don't know what it is."

He laughed gaily. "I am afraid you are shamming," he said, "in order to give me the pleasure of telling you something about your own Southern city; but know, my sly saint, that New Orleans differs from most seaport towns in that it has no wharves built out into the water, but the vessels and steamboats lie along a broad street called 'the Levee,' which in the season is covered with cotton bales and sugar hogsheads. This street follows the bend of the river on which the city is built, and from its shape comes the name 'Crescent City. Other streets run from it, not parallel, but spreading out like the sticks of a fan.” "I should think that would be a very confusing arrangement."

"So it is. You can never tell how far off the street may be that you knew, in the beginning of your walk, lay but a square to the right or left. Another puzzling peculiarity is, that a different name is often given to what would seem to be different parts of the same street. And all this goes to prove, sweetheart, that you must not go cruising about alone. If I can't go with you, take Civil Rights Bill. He will prove a vivacious and accurate guide. He knows the banks whereon the wild thyme grows just as well as if he had been a city gamin all his life.”

They had passed the broad streets and were turning into the crooked, crowded ways where life was swarming busily. The chattering crowd were all going one way-toward the French market, whose long, low booths Blythe saw with a lively feeling of pleasure one experiences at any novel sight. It was a scene well worth looking at. Creoles, negroes, Mexicans, and French people crossed and recrossed each others' paths; pale Southern