Xavier, joining us; "I will show you ze
inn of which I spik. She is kep' by my fren', Madame Bouvet."

"Xavier," said Nick, looking at the rolling flood of the river, "suppose
this levee should break?"

"Ah," said Xavier, "then some Spaniard who never have a bath--he feel
what water is lak."

Followed by Benjy with the saddle-bags, we went down the steps set in
the levee into this strange, foreign city. It was like unto nothing
we had ever seen, nor can I give an adequate notion of how it affected
us,--such a mixture it seemed of dirt and poverty and wealth and
romance. The narrow, muddy streets ran with filth, and on each side
along the houses was a sun-baked walk held up by the curved sides of
broken flatboats, where two men might scarcely pass. The houses, too,
had an odd and foreign look, some of wood, some of upright logs and
plaster, and newer ones, Spanish in style, of adobe, with curving roofs
of red tiles and strong eaves spreading over the banquette (as the
sidewalk was called), casting shadows on lemon-colored walls. Since New
Orleans was in a swamp, the older houses for the most part were lifted
some seven feet above the ground, and many of these houses had wide
galleries on the street side. Here and there a shop was set in the wall;
a watchmaker was to be seen poring over his work at a tiny window, a
shoemaker cross-legged on the floor. Again, at an open wicket, we caught
a glimpse through a cool archway into a flowering court-yard. Stalwart
negresses with bright kerchiefs made way for us on the banquette. Hands
on hips, they swung along erect, with baskets of cakes and sweetmeats on
their heads, musically crying their wares.

At length, turning a corner, we came to a white wooden house on the Rue
Royale, with a flight of steps leading up to the entrance. In place of
a door a flimsy curtain hung in the doorway, and, pushing this aside,
we followed Xavier through a darkened hall to a wide gallery that
overlooked a court-yard. This court-yard was shaded by several great
trees which grew there, the house and gallery ran down one other side of
it; and the two remaining sides were made up of a series of low cabins,
these forming the various outhouses and the kitchen. At the far end
of this gallery a sallow, buxom lady sat sewing at a table, and Xavier
saluted her very respectfully.

"Madame," he said, "I have brought you from St. Louis with Michie
Gratiot's compliments two young American gentlemen, who are