s to tell them so." But before he got the volume
fairly before his eyes his professional bell rang, and he tossed the
book upon the table.

"Well, why don't you bring him in?" he asked, in a tone of reproof, of a
servant who presented a card; and in a moment the visitor entered.

He was a person of some fifty years of age, with a patrician face, in
which it was impossible to tell where benevolence ended and pride began.
His dress was of fine cloth, a little antique in cut, and fitting rather
loosely on a form something above the medium height, of good width, but
bent in the shoulders, and with arms that had been stronger. Years, it
might be, or possibly some unflinching struggle with troublesome facts,
had given many lines of his face a downward slant. He apologized for the
hour of his call, and accepted with thanks the chair offered him.

"You are not a resident of the city?" asked Dr. Sevier.

"I am from Kentucky." The voice was rich, and the stranger's general
air one of rather conscious social eminence.

"Yes?" said the Doctor, not specially pleased, and looked at him closer.
He wore a black satin neck-stock, and dark-blue buttoned gaiters. His
hair was dyed brown. A slender frill adorned his shirt-front.

"Mrs."--the visitor began to say, not giving the name, but waving his
index-finger toward his card, which Dr. Sevier had laid upon the table,
just under the lamp,--"my wife, Doctor, seems to be in a very feeble
condition. Her physicians have advised her to try the effects of a
change of scene, and I have brought her down to your busy city, sir."

The Doctor assented. The stranger resumed:--

"Its hurry and energy are a great contrast to the plantation life, sir."

"They're very unlike," the physician admitted.

"This chafing of thousands of competitive designs," said the visitor,
"this great fretwork of cross purposes, is a decided change from the
quiet order of our rural life. Hmm! There everything is under the
administration of one undisputed will, and is executed by the
unquestioning obedience of our happy and contented slave peasantry. I
prefer the country. But I thought this was just the change that would
arouse and electrify an invalid who has really no tangible complaint."

"Has the result been unsatisfactory?"

"Entirely so. I am unexpectedly disappointed." The speaker's thought
seemed to be that the climate of New Orleans had not responded with
that hospitable alacrity which was due so opulent