undred miles from
its mouth.

In these fields I observe the culture of the sugar-cane, of the
rice-plant, of tobacco and cotton, of indigo and maize. I see the
"gangs" of black slaves at their work, in their cotton dresses of
striped and gaudy colours, in which sky-blue predominates. I see huge
waggons drawn by mules or oxen returning from the cane-fields, or slowly
toiling along the banks. I see the light-bodied Creole, in "cottonade"
jacket and trousers of bright blue, mounted upon his small Spanish
horse, and galloping along the Levee road. I see the grand mansion of
the planter, with its orange-groves and gardens, its green Venetians,
cool verandahs, and pretty palings. I see the huge sugar-house, or
tobacco-shed, or cotton "pickery;" and there, too, are the neat
"cabins," clustering together or running in a row, like the
bathing-boxes at a fashionable watering-place.

Now we are passing a plantation where they are making merry--a _fete
champetre_. Many horses stand under the trees, "hitched" in the shade
with saddles on, not a few of which are "ladies' saddles." In the
verandah, the lawn, and through the orange shrubbery, may be seen moving
about gentlemen and ladies richly attired. Music is heard, and there is
dancing in the open air. One cannot help envying these happy Creoles
the enjoyment of their Arcadian life.

Scenes varied and lovely were passing panorama-like before my eyes.
Lost in admiration of them, I had for the moment forgotten _Eugenie
Besancon_.

CHAPTER NINE.

EUGENIE BESANCON.

No, Eugenie Besancon was not forgotten. Every now and then her
sylph-like form flitted before my imagination, and I could not help
associating it with the scenery through which we were passing, and
amidst which, no doubt, she was born and nurtured--its fair _indigene_.
The glimpse of the _fete champetre_, where several Creole-like girls
were conspicuous, brought her more forcibly into my thoughts; and,
descending from the hurricane-deck, I entered the cabin with some
curiosity, once more to look upon this interesting lady.

For some time I dreaded disappointment. The great glass folding-door of
the ladies' cabin was closed; and although there were several ladies
outside in the main saloon, the Creole was not among the number. The
ladies' cabin, which occupies the after-part of the boat, is a sacred
precinct, into which bachelors are admitted only when they enjoy the
privilege of having a friend ins