reole, was
not even alluded to.

"There are matters in these letters," said I to young Menou, "which
oblige me to return immediately to your father's house."

"Indeed!" cried the young man, much astonished.

"Yes," replied I. "I hear a steamboat coming down the river--I will be
off at once."

He looked at me in great surprise; Sybille shook her head. But my
character is so impatient and impetuous, that when I have resolved on
any thing, I can never bear to defer its execution a moment. Besides,
there was really nothing to detain me at my plantation. The arrangements
and improvements that I had reckoned on finding only half effected were
complete; and every moment that now elapsed before I could welcome
Louise as mistress of my house and heart, seemed to me worse than
wasted. I hurried down to the river and hailed the steamer. It was the
same that had brought me home two months previously.

"Mr Howard," said the captain joyously, as I stepped on board the
vessel, "I am right glad to see you on my deck again. Your plantation
looks quite another thing. You are really a worker of wonders."

I hardly knew how to accept this undeserved praise. One of the best
points in our American character is the universal respect paid to
industry and intellect. The wealthy idler who carries thousands in his
pocket-book, may, amongst us, look in vain for the respect and flattery
which a tithe of his riches would procure him in many other countries;
while the less fortunate man, who makes his way and earns his living by
hand and head work, may always reckon on the consideration of his
fellow-citizens. On my return to Louisiana I had been thought nothing
of. I was a drone in the hive--with money, but without skill or
perseverance. My overseer was more looked up to than myself; but the
recent change in the state of my plantation, attributed, however
wrongly, to my presence, had caused a revolution in people's ideas; and
I was now met on all sides with open hands and smiling countenances. The
change, I must confess, was a gratifying one for me.

The Menous were at breakfast the next morning, when I arrived, heated by
my walk from the river, opposite to the parlour window. I was received
with a cry of welcome.

"So soon back! Nothing wrong, I hope?" said Menou.

"Nothing," replied I dryly; "I have only forgotten something."

"And what is that?"

"My Louise," was my answer, as I seated myself beside the blushing girl.
"On arriving a