ns, began to shun the
river bank the exile mounted to the top of the levee, and on its
well-trodden path pursued his way. The suburban eye regarded him
with cold suspicion, individuals reflected the stern spirit of the
city's heartless edict. He missed the seclusion of the crowded town
and the safety he could always find in the multitude.

At Chalmette, six miles upon his desultory way, there suddenly
menaced him a vast and bewildering industry. A new port was being
established; the dock was being built, compresses were going up;
picks and shovels and barrows struck at him like serpents from every
side. An arrogant foreman bore down upon him, estimating his muscles
with the eye of a recruiting-sergeant. Brown men and black men all
about him were toiling away. He fled in terror.

By noon he had reached the country of the plantations, the great,
sad, silent levels bordering the mighty river. He overlooked fields
of sugar-cane so vast that their farthest limits melted into the
sky. The sugar-making season was well advanced, and the cutters
were at work; the waggons creaked drearily after them; the Negro
teamsters inspired the mules to greater speed with mellow and
sonorous imprecations. Dark-green groves, blurred by the blue
of distance, showed where the plantation-houses stood. The tall
chimneys of the sugar-mills caught the eye miles distant, like
lighthouses at sea.

At a certain point Whistling Dick's unerring nose caught the scent
of frying fish. Like a pointer to a quail, he made his way down
the levee side straight to the camp of a credulous and ancient
fisherman, whom he charmed with song and story, so that he dined
like an admiral, and then like a philosopher annihilated the worst
three hours of the day by a nap under the trees.

When he awoke and again continued his hegira, a frosty sparkle in
the air had succeeded the drowsy warmth of the day, and as this
portent of a chilly night translated itself to the brain of Sir
Peregrine, he lengthened his stride and bethought him of shelter. He
travelled a road that faithfully followed the convolutions of the
levee, running along its base, but whither he knew not. Bushes and
rank grass crowded it to the wheel ruts, and out of this ambuscade
the pests of the lowlands swarmed after him, humming a keen, vicious
soprano. And as the night grew nearer, although colder, the whine
of the mosquitoes became a greedy, petulant snarl that shut out all
other sounds. To his righ