ired. There was no vest. Its place was supplied by ample frills of
cambric lace, that puffed out over the breast. The _chaussure_
consisted of gaiter-bootees of drab lasting-cloth, tipped with patent
leather, and fastened over the front with a silk lace. A broad-brimmed
Panama hat completed the dress, and gave the finishing touch to this
truly Southern costume.

There was nothing _outre_ about either the shirt, the pantaloons, the
head-dress, or foot-gear. All were in keeping--all were in a style that
at that period was the _mode_ upon the lower Mississippi. It was not,
therefore, the dress of this youth that had arrested my attention. I
had been in the habit of seeing such, every day. It could not be that.
No--the dress had nothing to do with the interest which he had excited.
Perhaps my regarding him as the author of the brief counsel that had
been uttered in my ear had a little to do with it--but not all.
Independent of that, there was something in the face itself that
forcibly attracted my regard--so forcibly that I began to ponder whether
I had ever seen it before. If there had been a better light, I might
have resolved the doubt, but he stood in shadow, and I could not get a
fair view of him.

It was just about this time that I missed him from his station in the
corner of the saloon, and a minute or two later were heard the shouts
and shots from without.

"And now, Monsieur, may I inquire why you wish to speak to me, and what
you have to say?"

I was beginning to feel annoyed at the interference of this young
fellow. A man does not relish being suddenly pulled up from a game of
whist; and not a bit the more that he has been losing at it.

"Why I wish to speak to you is, because I feel an interest in you. What
I have to say you shall hear."

"An interest in me! And pray, Sir, to what am I indebted for this
interest?"

"Is it not enough that you are a stranger likely to be plundered of your
purse?--a _green-horn_--"

"How, Monsieur?"

"Nay, do not be angry with me. That is the phrase which I have heard
applied to you to-night by more than one of your new acquaintances. If
you return to play with them, I think you will merit the title."

"Come, Monsieur, this is too bad: you interfere in a matter that does
not concern you."

"True, it does not; but it concerns _you_, and yet--ah!"

I was about to leave this meddling youth, and hurry back to the game,
when the strange melancholy tone of h