place from the hot sun and the street noises!
Glorious organ! Refreshing cold stone floor!
Comfortable priest, who exhorted in Spanish,
and delighted my eyes and ears without
disquieting my conscience! Dreamy dying away
fragrance of incense, left over from last evening's
benediction!

The denizens of summer-land luxuriate in a
degree of heat that miserably discomforts
persons from a more northern latitude. My dread
of the melting heat of May was simply absurd
to the Southerner. I came out of the coolness,
when mass was over, because the rest did,
except some devotees, who stayed to the next
mass, and a pretty girl who was trying to tire
out the Virgin, and get something she was praying
for. I left her where she had been for the
hour, and, with my head down, ran the gauntlet
of importunate beggars, and began to meet the
in-coming congregation for the next mass.
Presently, a little dog nearly ran under my feet
—a King Charles, so exquisitely combed and
brushed, that he must have had a waiting-maid
to himself. He was running tortuously at the
end of a blue ribbon, and I looked up to see
who was at the other end. A beautiful regal-
looking woman held the rein. Her dark eyes
flashed out of a great pallor on her face that told
of struggle, or sorrow, or both. She had a wealth
of dark hair, not disposed in braids or a coronal,
but falling in masses of curls over her pale face
and white neck. She wore a black lace bonnet,
blooming with tea-roses, and their rich orange
hearts really seemed to exhale fragrance. The
bonnet was only a head-dress—a fitting
ornament for the glory of her hair. Her dress was
the light gauzy grenadine usually worn in New
Orleans, with orange-coloured blossoms
scattered over its diaphanous surface. She wore a
lace shawl; dainty lace mits shaded her white
hands; and the diamonds on her taper fingers
flashed as they rested on the prayer-book that
she clasped. She swept past me, in a cloud of
lace and perfume, and I, impertinent mortal
that I am, stopped and turned to look at her.
Just then she stooped to take up her dog,
saying, in Spanish, '' Poor Carlo is very tired!"
And then she waited for a grave sad-looking
negro woman to come up, to whom she gave
her prayer-book, saying again, in Spanish, "Poor
Carlo is very weary!" As I looked, another
woman passed. She was in the sere and yellow
leaf, tall, and not bowed by the weight of her
many years. Her hair was of snowy whiteness;
her face, like transparent pearl, was so full of
wrinkles that one could not think of it as ever
having been smooth. She was a lady, though
she wore the rustiest of black gowns, a shawl
that was grandmamma to her dress, a black
bonnet of threescore and ten, and a black cap
and mits not a day younger. Nothing relieved
the blackness but the brownness, and nothing
relieved either but a very white and very ragged
pocket-handkerchief. Through a rent in this
decayed piece of advanced civilisation, poked the
small nose and wonderful ears of the smallest
edition of a King Charles I had ever seen. As
the elder lady approached the younger, I saw
that she wished to attract attention to her
charge. Her hands trembled as she tried to
disengage the small mass of silkiness from the
rags of finest and oldest linen cambric. The
lady of the flashing eyes at once discovered the
little thing. " What a beautiful creature!" The
two females were as friends in a moment. The
old dog who had to be carried because he was
too weak from age except for a short walk, and
the young one who had not yet learned the use
of his legs, were compared.

"He will soon be poor Carlo rejuvenated,"
said the lady of the flashing eyes.

"He eats milk by the saucer-full," said the
elder, recommending her charge. "Would you
not like to have him?"

"I should be delighted, but Carlo would be
so jealous. He loves me so much, he will not
tolerate a rival. But you will save this darling
for me; you will sell the little doggie?"

"I must," said the ancient.

"How soon may I have him?"

"In a month, if you engage him."

"I should pay something down, to bind the
bargain," said my queen of hearts; "what's
his price, and what shall I give now?"

"His price is what you please to give; both
now, and then."

"But are you not afraid to trust me?"

The ancient smiled and said, "I know too
much of you to distrust you." And I saw a
gleam of gold in the withered palm. I was
quite conscious of it, though I was very busily
reading an auctioneer's placard, informing the
public that on Thursday next would be sold a lot
of the best domestic servants, raised in Virginia,
and warranted three generations from Africa.
Not savages, but brought up by the chivalry.

The young lady had won leave to call on the
elder, and they parted. The dame with the dog
turned down a street—Baronne-street—and I
turned down it too. In short, I followed her.

I always look at babies, because I love babies,
and love to please mammas and nurses. I
always look at a soldier's medals; because does
not he deserve it, if he deserve them? In
passing the reduced lady, I looked admiringly
at the little dog. Then I smiled on the little
dog's human friend, and the little dog's human
friend smiled on me.

Thus we got into conversation. She said
was he not a beauty? I said he was a beauty.
Then I inquired if there were any more members
of the same family, and learned there were no
more; then I was aground, and considered
what could I do, to find my way to this most
obsolete gentlewoman's domicile.

Why did I wish to go there? Well; I had a
heartache for the quiet poverty of one gently born,
and gently reared. A good Providence had given
me some spare money, and it burned in my pocket.

I thought of a miserably common-place
expedient. I said, "I beg your pardon, madam.
I am a stranger in this city, and I want to find
a laundress, who really knows her business, and
can turn one out fit to be seen. I am