elf with matters that for me had little or no
interest. Had I, as I hoped to do when in New York, taken back a partner
of my joys and sorrows, some gentle creature who would have cheered my
solitude and sympathized with all my feelings, I should have experienced
far less repugnance or difficulty in returning to my home in the
wilderness; but as it was, I felt oppressed by a sense of loneliness
that seemed to paralyse my energies, and that certainly rendered me any
thing but fit society for the lively, talkative party of which I now
found myself a member. I strove to shake off the feeling, but in vain;
and at last, abandoning the attempt, I left the cabin and went on deck.

The night was bright and starlight; the atmosphere perfectly clear, with
the exception of a slight white mist that hung over the river. The
hollow blows of the steam-engine seemed to be echoed in the far distance
by the bellowing of the alligators; while the plaintive tones of the
whip-poor-will were heard at intervals in the forest through which we
were passing. There was no sign of life on the banks of the river; it
was a desert; not a light to be seen, save that of millions of
fireflies, which threw a magical kind of _chiaroscuro_ over the trees
and bushes. At times we passed so near the shore that the branches
rattled and snapped against the side of the boat. Our motion was rapid.
Twelve hours more, and I should be in my Tusculum. Just then the captain
came up to me to say, that if I were disposed to retire to rest, the
noisy smokers and drinkers had discontinued their revels, and I might
now have some chance of sleeping. I had nothing better to do, so
descended the stairs and installed myself in my berth.

When I rose the next morning, a breeze had sprung up, and we were
proceeding merrily along under sail as well as steam. The first person I
met was Monsieur Menou, who wished me a _bon-jour_ in, as I thought, a
somewhat colder tone than he had hitherto used towards me, and looked me
at the same time enquiringly in the face. It seemed as if he wished to
read there whether his courtesy and kindness were likely to be requited
by the same ungracious stiffness that I had shown him on the preceding
day. Well, I will do my best to obliterate the bad impression I have
apparently made. They are good people, these Creoles--not particularly
bashful or discreet; but yet I like their forwardness and volatility
better than the sly smartness of the Yankees, in