"It was nothing to me," was the dry answer.

"If you had only given information to my attorney!"

"No business of mine," returned the man. Then fixing his eyes hard upon
me, he commenced a sort of lecture, for which I was by no means
prepared.

"Ah!" said he, pushing his nightcap a little over his left ear, "you
young gentlemen come out of the north with your dozen blackies or so,
lay out some two or three thousand dollars in house and land, and then
think you can play the absentee as much as you like, and that you do us
a deal of honour when you allow us to collect and remit your income, for
you to spend out of the country. I'm almost sorry, Mr Howard, that you
didn't come six months later."

"In order to leave the scoundrel time to secure his booty, eh?"

"At any rate, he has worked, and has wife and child, and has been
useful to the land and country."

"The devil!" I exclaimed, mighty indignant. "Well--for a judge, you have
a singular idea of law!"

"It mayn't be Bony's code, nor yet Livingston's, but I reckon it's
justice," replied the man earnestly, tapping his forehead with his
forefinger.

I stared at him, but he returned my gaze with interest. There was a deal
of backwoods justice in his rough reasoning, although its morality was
indefensible. It was the law of property expounded _a la_ Lynch. What is
very certain is, that in a new country especially, absenteeism ought to
be scouted as a crime against the community. In my case my ramblings had
been very near costing me three thousand hard dollars. As it was,
however, they were saved--thanks to Menou--and the money still in the
hands of Messrs Goring, whose standard of morality on such subjects was
probably not much more rigid than that of the worthy Squire Turnips, and
who would, I doubt not, have bought my cotton of the Evil One himself,
if they could have got it half-a-cent a pound cheaper by so doing. I
gave the squire the necessary papers and powers for the adjustment of my
affairs with Bleaks; we shook hands, and I returned on board.

In the grey of the morning the steamboat stopped again. I accompanied
Menou on shore, and we found a carriage waiting, which, in spite of its
singularly antique construction, set off with us at a brisk pace. I had
just fallen asleep in my corner, when I was awakened by a musical voice
not ten paces off, exclaiming, "_Les voila!_" I looked up, rubbed my
eyes--it was Louise, the Creole's youngest daughter, who had com