side in
New Orleans," replied Alfred. "He said it was impossible to exaggerate
the importance of social institutions. He often used to speak of
having met a number of Turkish women when he was in the environs of
Constantinople. They were wrapped up like bales of cloth, with two
small openings for their eyes, mounted on camels, and escorted by the
overseer of the harem. The animal sound of their chatter and giggling,
as they passed him, affected him painfully; for it forced upon him the
idea what different beings those women would have been if they had
been brought up amid the free churches and free schools of New
England. He always expounded history to me in the light of that
conviction; and he mourned that temporary difficulties should prevent
lawgivers from checking the growth of evils that must have a blighting
influence on the souls of many generations. He considered slavery a
cumulative poison in the veins of this Republic, and predicted that it
would some day act all at once with deadly power."

"Your father was a wise man," replied Mr. Royal, "and I agree with
him. But it would be unsafe to announce it here; for slavery is a
tabooed subject, except to talk in favor of it."

"I am well aware of that," rejoined Alfred. "And now I must bid you
good morning. You know my mother is an invalid, and I may find letters
at the post-office that will render immediate return necessary. But
I will see you again; and hereafter our acquaintance may perhaps be
renewed in France."

"That is a delightful hope," rejoined the merchant, cordially
returning the friendly pressure of his hand. As he looked after the
young man, he thought how pleasant it would be to have such a son;
and he sighed deeply over the vision of a union that might have been,
under other circumstances, between his family and that of his old
friend. Alfred, as he walked away, was conscious of that latent,
unspoken wish. Again the query began to revolve through his mind
whether the impediments were really insurmountable. There floated
before him a vision of that enchanting room, where the whole of life
seemed to be composed of beauty and gracefulness, music and flowers.
But a shadow of Fitzgerald fell across it, and the recollection of
Boston relatives rose up like an iceberg between him and fairy-land.

A letter informing him of his mother's increasing illness excited
a feeling of remorse that new acquaintances had temporarily nearly
driven her from his thoug