"Did you expect it?" said our host. "No one
else did. Who could have told you?"

"The movements of men so distinguished need
never take us by surprise. I knew he was in
Paris the other day. Natural he should come
here. I was prepared for his coming."

Margrave here turned away towards the
window, which he threw open and looked out.

"There is a storm in the air," said he, as he
continued to gaze into the night.

Was it possible that Margrave was so wholly
unconscious of what had passed in the museum,
as to include in oblivion even the remembrance
of Sir Philip Derval's presence before he had
been rendered insensible, or laid asleep? Was
it now only for the first time that he learned
of Sir Philip's arrival in L——, and visit to that
house? Was there any intimation of menace
in his words and his aspect?

I felt that the trouble of my thoughts
communicated itself to my countenance and manner;
and, longing for solitude and fresh air, I quitted
the house. When I found myself in the street,
I turned round and saw Margrave still standing
at the open window, but he did not appear to
notice me; his eyes seemed fixed abstractedly on
space.

OUR OLD AND NEW COTTON-FIELDS.

IT was my tenth day in New Orleans, and
Yellow Fever had not yet stuck his livid claws
into me. My apprehensions subsided, and I
began to enjoy what there was to enjoy in the
great slave city.

My appetite quickened, as the excellent
dinners at the magnificent St. Charles's Hotel
soon found to their cost. The great gilt-looking
Red Fish was from the Mexican Gulf; the
gumbo-soup was a pure Southern dish mixed
with a glutinous plant, and very delicious;
the green peppers were West Indian; the
hominy was of Indian extraction; the crabs
à la Créole were cooked in the Cuban way;
the rice casseroles stuffed with oysters were
of French origin; the orange tomatoes,
observe, were raw; the egg-plant is peculiar to
America; so is the succotash and the lima
beans; for this is a paradise of vegetables. For
the brandied peaches we are indebted to the
clever descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers.
Great emphasis was laid in the bewildering bill
of fare on "Kentucky beef" and on "Irish
potatoes " in contradistinction to the soapy
"sweet potatoes." The dessert reminded me that
I was near the West Indies, for the pineapples
were fresh picked, and the oranges were green,
or but slightly yellowed, as they should be.
Those long sallow bananas, too, a week ago,
were sunning themselves in the fiery air of
Cuba; the pecan-nuts are American, and are
much in request among a people who attach
more value to dessert than we do, mixing
many French customs with their own in these
matters.

The dinner had been tediously long, with its
various courses constantly interrupted or
retarded by the fresh arrival of guests and bands
of hungry families. The black waiters ran over
each other in a fussy, good-natured, but rather
irrational way. I stripped my last banana and
scooped out my last pecan-nut, drank some iced
water, and, taking my hat from the pile of others
on the table by the door, descended to the bar-
room to smoke a quiet cigarette, and think how I
should spend the afternoon.

To my astonishment, instead of the usual
somnolent repose of the great marble hall at
that hour, and the two or three loafers taking
"General Jacksons" in a critical way at the
counter, the scene was all bustle and animation.
A slave sale had just concluded. The following
bill of it I found pasted up on one of the pillars,
and as rather a curiosity, I append it:

SALE AT AUCTION
OF CHOICE
PLANTATION SLAVES.

BY C. E. GIRANDOLE & CO.
OFFICE, No. 37, OPELOUSAS STREET.

ON WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1860,
AT 12 O'CLOCK, AT
THE ST. CHARLES HOTEL,

Will be sold at Public Auction, the following Slaves,
to wit:

TERMS.—4 and 6 months' credit for approved Factor's
acceptances, bearing 8 per cent. interest, or cash if the
purchaser prefer.

Acts of sale before the Notaries designated by the
Auctioneers—at the expense of the purchaser.

{Image: Right-pointing hand}
N.B.—No slave will be delivered until the terms are
complied with.

The "fiddler and field hand," a cheerful fellow
in neat blue jacket and trousers, had just
descended from the steps, and was having his teeth
examined and chest tested by a friend of his
purchaser. All the slaves were dressed neatly,