LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
THE 
 
 CREOLE ORPHANS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ts attfy Sljaktos of j$<mthern |Tife 
 
 A TALE OF LOUISIANA, 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES S. PEACOCKE, M. D. 
 
 OF MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 ^ 
 
 'f 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 CINCINNATI : H. W. DERBY. 
 1856. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 

 Entered, according to Act of Cor.gress, in the year 1855, by 
 
 J. C. DERBY, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY 
 
 THOMAS B. SMITH, 
 82 & 84 Beekman Street 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TT was morning in the tropics ; a bright and sunny 
 -*- day in Kingston. The soft breeze came sweeping 
 across the bay, and wafted the scent of a thousand 
 beds of flowers toward the city, till the very air 
 seemed heavy with aromatic softness. The crowd was 
 moving with characteristic laziness along the awning- 
 covered street, and the cafes and restaurants were 
 receiving their daily influx of visitors, of many na 
 tions and languages. 
 
 Among them might be observed a noble-looking 
 gentleman, who, sauntering quietly along, and appar 
 ently without any other especial object than to kill 
 time, turned into one of those gorgeously fitted-up 
 saloons which are most frequented by the English and 
 Americans. 
 
 Giving himself up to the favorite habit of so many 
 of our countrymen, he threw himself into a large arm 
 chair, of which there were many standing about on 
 the nicely-sanded floor, and turned his inquiring gaze 
 around. There were many like himself seated, silently 
 smoking, and, to all appearance, having no more to do 
 
4 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 than he. The attentive waiter suddenly came toward 
 him and handed him the morning paper. He was 
 soon absorbed in its contents. Kapidly his eye 
 glanced over its columns, and he was about to throw 
 it aside, when the following notice attracted his atten 
 tion. It was at the end of an auction advertisement. 
 
 " There will also be sold t at the same time and place, a 
 beautiful Quadroon girl of sixteen years. She is a superior 
 sempstress and hair-dresser." 
 
 " I will go and see this paragon," he exclaimed, as 
 he laid down the sheet ; and, rising, he walked to the 
 door with a wearied air. 
 
 Eleven o'clock, and the commercial Exchange. Its 
 capacious rooms were the daily resort of the man of 
 business and the man of leisure, of those who had 
 property to dispose of, and those who wished to be 
 come purchasers. Here was the meeting-place ; here 
 were the sales of slaves and other valuable property ; 
 the* distribution of successions, and the receptacle of 
 news from all parts of the world. . The individual, 
 whom we have noticed, entered the doors of the build 
 ing with the throng and cast his eyes around. The 
 sale of landed property had commenced, but he 
 heeded it slightly. At length the slaves were put up 
 for sale. This attracted him but little. The auctioneer 
 paused. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," he exclaimed, " here we have 
 something to bid on ; a nice parcel of goods, and such 
 a one as you don't 'get every day. Come, hand her 
 up ! A beautiful Quadroon girl, fit for a lady's maid, 
 or traveling companion. Ha! ha! Who will bid? 
 Who won't bid? Here she is," he -added, as he re 
 ceived, from a dark aperture behind the stand, the light 
 form of a female, who was shoved violently forward 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. O 
 
 by some unseen hand. She was clothed in a plain 
 black dress, and, as she advanced, was evidently weep 
 ing violently, with her face hidden in her hands. The 
 vendor ordered her to look up. She obeyed him with 
 a shudder, and gazed around. She was young and 
 fair, but pale ; and her eyes were swollen with weeping. 
 Pallid and tottering, she stood before the multitude, 
 who hushed their conversation, struck by her exceed 
 ing beauty. Another moment, and a universal mur 
 mur arose from the assembly, as they looked upon her 
 in wonder and curiosity. She trembled violently, and 
 then her countenance exhibited the most intense men 
 tal anguish, as she stood the inspection of the crowd 
 of upturned faces ; and several times she seemed on 
 the point of crying out with concealed agony. 
 
 Surprise rooted the multitude to the spot; they 
 knew not what to think ; yet there was the owner, a 
 heavy, thickset man, with a ferocious countenance and 
 a glaring eye, which seemed to exercise a basilisk 
 influence over the poor girl, who, every now and 
 then, stole a glance of terror toward him. She was 
 unlike a slave ; yet there was her master, (she did not 
 deny him), the vendor ; and, above all, there was the 
 pure, rich olive complexion of the quadroon. She is a 
 slave, and is here for sale, for she denies it not. Yet she 
 is lighter in color than the Indian Quadroons. Still 
 she is a slave. Bids were now tendered, reservedly at 
 first, but they increased in spirit until the competition 
 became general. The amount increased until it was 
 enormous. The poor girl turned a supplicating look 
 around ; her eyes met those of our friend, who had 
 been drawn up to the stand by the excitement. That 
 look told a tale of sadness ; it struck his heart, and he 
 gazed at her with pity, and bid on her again ; and 
 
6 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 again was the sum increased, and still lie bravely 
 stood there bidding on. At length the offers dropped 
 off, and he and a low, wrinkled debauchee were the 
 sole competitors. A few more passes, and a smile of 
 scorn curled his lip, as he saw the look of anxiety in 
 the face of his antagonist give place to one of deep 
 and intense hatred and rage as he gave in, and surren 
 dered, while the prize was knocked down to his an 
 tagonist. The stranger stepped to the office, and re 
 ceived the young girl as she staggered and fell into 
 his arms. She had fainted ; and, as he bore her out, 
 the clink of the gold he had paid sounded louder than 
 the din of human voices. 
 
 A few weeks saw the fair young slave placed on 
 board a packet bound for the city of New Orleans. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 oae of those quaintly-fashioned houses, away 
 down in the heart of the first municipality in New 
 Orleans, and built long ago in old Spanish times, I 
 beg the reader to accompany me. 
 
 "We approach the house. It stands in a recess, back 
 from the street, and, up the columns of the portico, is 
 a perfect wilderness of cypress and madeira vines. 
 
 "We ascend the ancient steps composed of the marble 
 of France, and pause at the dark, old door. At the 
 summons of the lion-headed knocker, which seems to 
 have stood the storms of a century, the door opens 
 and we are at once admitted. To the right is the 
 parlor, and this room we invite the reader also to enter. 
 
 This apartment was furnished in a sumptuous man 
 ner. It was large and spacious. A rich carpet 
 covered tho floor, and the dark, heavy furniture was 
 of an antique pattern and after the style of Louis Six 
 teenth. A French piano was the only modern article 
 in the room. A massive gilt cornice and an elaborately 
 carved center-piece gave a finished and beautiful effect 
 to the whole. The walls were ornamented with 
 several very fine paintings. One, a landscape by 
 Claude Lorraine ; one by Teniers ; a young girl by 
 Eubens, and a copy of Michael Angelo's Yirgin and 
 child. This collection, with a number of antique 
 statuettes on the mantle, and a bust of Napoleon, ex- 
 
8 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 hibited in the occupants of this mansion a refined and 
 exalted taste. There were many richly bound volumes 
 also scattered about. 
 
 Turn we now to the person who was seated in a 
 massive oak chair, near the glowing fire. The even 
 ing was cool, for it was late in the season ; and the 
 flame danced merrily up the chimney, and roared and 
 crackled as the coal split and burst into fragments, 
 emitting jets of bright gas, darting hither and thither 
 as if in glee. He was, as we have said, seated in a 
 large chair leaning back ; his feet stretched out on a 
 stool the very personification of ease and comfort. 
 He held in his hand a newspaper, and around him 
 strewing the floor were many more, some half opened, 
 and others wrapped up as if just received, while others 
 were wide open, as if hastily glanced at, and then care 
 lessly thrown aside. The fragrance of a Havana cigar 
 filled the room, and the pale blue smoke curled gently 
 over his head. There was nothing remarkable in the 
 appearance of the individual. He seemed about forty 
 years of age. A high and intellectual brow, a straight 
 nose of the true Grecian style, and an oval face, dis 
 tinguished him as a very handsome man, while the 
 thick early chestnut locks around his white forehead 
 gave a manly cast to his countenance. He had dark 
 hazel eyes, which gleamed softly and pensively, as he 
 lifted them from the paper and, ever and anon, gazed 
 intently in the fire. As he thus looked steadily, a 
 quiet smile of contentment played around his lips, 
 which were full and finely chiseled. But you could 
 see that there was a cast about his mouth and chin, 
 which seemed to denote a want of firmness of purpose, 
 He was in stature, over the middle height, and nobly 
 and elegantly formed. But there was an expression 
 
THE CREOLE OKPHANS. 9 
 
 which stamped the whole features and denoted a mind 
 satisfied with itself and the world. 
 
 It may be that our readers do not recognize the 
 stranger of the cafe of Kingston, the purchaser of 
 the Quadroon girl ; but it was he. Charles Ormond, for 
 such was his name, was a man who had lived to the 
 age of forty, and never made an enemy. He was an 
 easy, quiet person, who never troubled himself about the 
 affairs of his neighbors ; nay, not even his own affairs ; 
 but it seemed as if fortune smiled on him, and blessed 
 the " even tenor of his way," for, if he did not add to 
 his large property, he held his own and enjoyed life 
 to its full. He had many years previously come to 
 the South from Maryland with his father, who died, 
 leaving his son a valuable plantation and a large force 
 of negroes on the Mississippi river in Louisiana. 
 
 Colonel Ormond (for he held a Colonel's commission 
 in the militia) divided his time between his residence 
 in the city and his plantation, on which he lived during 
 the rolling season. He was a bachelor. An affair of 
 the heart many years before with a Creole girl stifled 
 his energy and killed his matrimonial aspirations, and 
 he never found sufficient courage to replace the ideal 
 with the real. 
 
 He remained for some minutes in the comfortable 
 position in which we have found him, and then, start 
 ing from his reverie suddenly, he took from the mantle 
 a small bell, and gently rung it. 
 
 In reply to the summons, a servant appeared bear 
 ing lights, and, closing the shutters, proceeded to ar 
 range the tea-table with two seats. As the table was 
 drawn up to the fire and a light Indian bamboo chair 
 placed at its side, Colonel Ormond seemed to be 
 aroused by the sound of a singularly sweet voice from 
 
10 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 the adjoining room, and, in a moment more, a light 
 footstep pressed the soft carpet by his side. His eyes 
 lighted up with a smile of pleasure, as he glanced 
 around and his gaze fell upon the form of a beautiful 
 woman, of some twenty -five or six years of age. 
 
 She was of that clear, olive complexion, which, al 
 though it plainly told that she might have a tinge of 
 African blood, yet also showed that it was far re 
 moved. Her form was of that voluptuous, flowing 
 mould, whose every action is grace, and it expressed the 
 deep, yet hidden fires, which burned within a shrine 
 as pure as a vestal's. Her eyes were large and dazzling, 
 and as ebon as her hair, which was braided simply 
 around a smooth brow and ornamented with a single 
 moss-rose. Her features were regular and classic. As 
 she entered the room, a smile illuminated her beauti 
 ful face and showed her pearly teeth. She advanced 
 to Colonel Ormond, and, sinking on the stool, gazed 
 a moment at him, and then threw her arms around his 
 neck. He leaned over, pressed her beautiful head to 
 his breast and imprinted many kisses on her brow and 
 lips. She leaned across his knee 
 
 "Ah! Ormond," she said, "I have a terrible quarrel 
 for you." 
 
 "What now?" he laughingly replied. 
 
 " Did you not promise me when you left after din 
 ner, that you would return at once ? But you had to 
 go up town, and in some snug little corner you had 
 your wine and cigar, and a quiet game of chess." 
 
 " "Well, Marie," he answered, " I must plead guilty ; 
 what is the punishment?" 
 
 1 Well let me see, I must deprive you of your wine 
 for a whole week." 
 
 " I submit ; but now let me ask you how do you 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 11 
 
 find the city, after so ]ong a sojourn on the planta 
 tion ?" 
 
 11 Oh ! Charles, I hate a city life, and you know it ; 
 I love the country ; but, when you are with me, I even 
 love the city more." 
 
 " You are a flatterer, Marie," he said, playfully tap 
 ping her cheek with a folded newspaper. 
 
 " But I have long determined not to keep up two 
 establishments; we will sell the house in town, and 
 then we will live altogether in the country." 
 
 " Oh I I should be so glad/' she replied enthusiasti 
 cally. " I will then take a pleasure in domestic affairs, 
 I will attend to the poultry and dairy and garden." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, love in a cottage ; but you forget where 
 are Zoe and Estelle." 
 
 She smiled rapturously at the mention of those 
 names, and darted from the room. 
 
 He gazed after her a moment, sighed and shook his 
 head. " Beautiful creature 1" he said, "you are a treas 
 ure to any man. Why should I hesitate a moment 
 longer in giving you my name, when you have so long 
 had my heart ; you, who are so good, so pure and so 
 kind to all ? The law will not sanction a marriage in 
 Louisiana, yet for your sake should I seek another state : 
 yet yet, the feeling. That dark tinge from Africa 
 can it be so, a Quadroon ! As to the sin of living so 
 in this pseudo-marital manner that is for churchmen 
 to decide. There are many who do it. It is custom, 
 and custom calls it honorable. Yet I owe it to her ; 
 to her whose heart is as warm as the sunbeams of her 
 own bright isle. I owe it to my children, the cherubs 
 with their soft warm smile, and happy laugh, and lov 
 ing kiss. I owe it to them, and I '11 do them justice 
 at any rate. Well, well I '11 think of it ; I love Ma- 
 
12 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Hk 
 
 rie truly ; for her noble gratitude and true womanly 
 kindness ; yet I had thought my heart would ever re 
 bel against such a sentiment as love." Here he sighed, 
 as reminiscences of "langsyne" came across his mem 
 ory; and he soon relapsed into his former musings. 
 And now while our scene is thus disposed, we will en 
 ter into an explanation and make a portion of the fol 
 lowing story more plain to the reader. 
 
 Marie St. Yalle was a native of the island of Mar 
 tinique. She told Ormond that she was a Quadroon, 
 and that her father was a French officer, who was sta 
 tioned and died at Port Eoyal of yellow fever. It 
 was said that she was a slave, and, after the death of 
 her protector, she came into the possession of a relative 
 of his, who, knowing the relation they bore to each 
 othe^ never urged his claim of ownership with the 
 remainder of the property ; but suffered her to retain 
 it and act as if she were regularly emancipated. 
 
 Marie's mother, at the instigation of her friends, now 
 sent her to Paris to be educated at a convent. 
 
 She was at that time but six years of age. Here 
 she remained until she was ten, when her mother de 
 termined to remove to Paris and left Martinique to 
 visit France. When some two weeks at sea, the ves 
 sel was wrecked, and poor little Marie was an orphan 
 with no one to protect her, no friend to guide her foot 
 steps in a world, set with snares for one so young and 
 innocent. 
 
 This was the story which Ormond had ever believed 
 as told by Marie ; and she repeated it from the lips of 
 an old woman who claimed her as an aunt after her 
 return to Martinique. 
 
 When the news of the loss of the vessel, which 
 reached Martinique in due time, was known, the reput- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 13 
 
 ed aunt, a Quadroon, who resided on the island, at 
 once removed Marie to her home. 
 
 As time passed, there were many admirers of the 
 young and beautiful girl, and, among them, several 
 young men of wealth on the island. There was also 
 an Englishman, who was said to be a merchant in Ja 
 maica but whom others boldly stated to be a pirate, 
 or little better who came, with a young and lovely 
 wife, to reside in the town of Port Koyal. They became 
 acquainted with Marie, and, struck by her beauty and 
 apparent artlessness, showed a great many kindnesses 
 to her. This gained the heart of her old aunt, who 
 readily consented that Marie should accompany Cap 
 tain Berwick and his wife, on a visit to his estate in 
 Jamaica. They sailed, and upon their arrival, she was 
 offered as a slave at a mart in Kingston. 
 
 Here she attracted the attention of our friend Colonel 
 Ormond, who was on a visit to the West Indies. Her 
 appearance, and the contradictory tale told by Berwick 
 called his notice to her forcibly, and, after a few inqui 
 ries, he became her purchaser for a large sum. 
 
 And thus we find her, after living ten years with 
 him, the acknowledged mistress of his household, and 
 still a slave, and by him as well as herself believed to 
 be a Quadroon. 
 
 During all this period, they had lived together as 
 man and wife. She had by her beauty and goodness 
 so insensibly won her way to his heart that he loved 
 her devotedly. Not indeed with that refined and sen 
 timental love, which poets in their moon-struck fancies 
 prate about, but with that warm and generous passion 
 such as children of the tropics feel. Ormond did not 
 indeed at first dream of making her his wife, but, as 
 years flew by, and the graces of her mind and the 
 
14 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 nobleness of her soul were brought into action, and as 
 she became the mother of two darling children, he be 
 gan to seriously reflect upon it, and ultimately determ 
 ined to consummate the matter by giving her his name. 
 He had delayed it thus far. When brought to the test, 
 there was in his mind a shrinking reluctance, which 
 he did not even confess to himself, of mingling his 
 name and lineage with one in whose veins the burning 
 tide of Africa flowed. Then there was a feeling of 
 delicacy in bringing the affair before the public, and 
 laying his household gods open to the vulgar gaze. 
 But now he determined to surmount all this, and 
 make the amende honorable. 
 
 Thus we find him, and it is but justice to say that 
 such had long been his earnest intention. 
 
 It was after the lapse of a few minutes, that laugh 
 ing, silvery voices were heard, and the patter of hasty 
 little feet, and Marie appeared, followed by the chil 
 dren, who, as soon as they had entered the room, ut* 
 tered the word " Papa," and rushed to greet with ca 
 resses one who was ever delighted to receive them, and 
 whose face beamed with pleasure, as he noted their af 
 fectionate earnestness. He smiled and pressed them to 
 his heart, as they climbed upon his knee, and he list 
 ened and smiled again, at their childish prattle. Marie 
 stood near ; a tear of delight was in her eye, as she 
 gazed, with all a fond mother's pride, at the objects 
 which engrossed so much of her affections. 
 
 Colonel Ormond passed his arms around them, and, 
 thus encircled, he leaned back and gazed at the enchant 
 ing fairies. Zoe, the elder, was ten years of age ; Estelle 
 two years her junior. Zoe was of that rich, deep tint 
 which is emblematical of a mixed blood ; but her fine 
 transparent skin showed the blue veins, through which 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 15 
 
 coursed an ardent tide. Her features were regular, 
 and her dark eye the same as her mother's. She was 
 of a reserved, yet proud disposition, and extremely 
 sensitive. Estelle, whose style of beauty was similar, 
 had a lighter complexion. Her eye was soft and 
 beaming as a gazelle's, but resembled her father's. She 
 was wild, credulous and enthusiastic, and more viva 
 cious than Zoe. 
 
 The evening meal was announced, and the family 
 partook of it. "When old Sylvia, the nurse, entered 
 and bore off -the children to bed, Marie remained. 
 
 Colonel Ormond drew forth a chess-board, and, 
 having lighted a fresh cigar, invited her to play. 
 When they had been thus engaged a half hour, 
 there was a pause in the game. Marie looked up. 
 " Ormond," said she, " do you know what I have 
 been thinking of to-day ?" 
 
 " No," he replied, smiling, and making a move on 
 the board. " But doubtless you have been studying 
 out some new pattern for a cape, or have invented 
 a new mode of dressing the hair." 
 
 " Something more serious than that." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " Charles, you know that our children are now 
 growing up without education ; and I have thought 
 that we should try and place them at school." 
 
 " That is what I have often considered." 
 
 " Well, I have thought of a plan." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " To-day Monsieur Cirall was here with Madame ; 
 they are going to return to France to live." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " He wishes to return. And now for my proposi 
 tion. Let us send the children to Paris. In the Con- 
 
16 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 vent of Mercy they will find a home, and in dear 
 mother St. Clare a parent." 
 
 " Marie, this is sudden," said Ormond, thoughtfully. 
 " It requires reflection. There are schools nearer " 
 
 "Charles, I know what you would say," she re 
 plied, interrupting him. " I have reflected on this. It 
 is a terrible thing to send away such young children ; 
 but, Charles, you know the pain, the humiliation, to 
 have a slight put upon them on account of their de 
 scent. Oh ! / know, I can feel this. No ! we will 
 not place them where those prejudices exist." 
 
 " Your observations are just, Marie," he said; " but 
 the sacrifice is great." 
 
 " Oh ! Charles, you little know the sacrifices a lov 
 ing mother can make, the pangs she can endure, and 
 the agony she can suffer for those she loves. I can, 
 and am willing to place them from under my care." 
 
 " "Well, Marie, they must be placed somewhere ; and 
 yet I dislike to act. Procrastination is one of my 
 greatest faults. I am too indolent, and some day it 
 will be my ruin. What do you propose ?" 
 
 " To send them with good Madame Ciralle' ; she 
 will place them in the convent." 
 
 " Will you speak to her about it ?" 
 
 " Yes : and I know she will be delighted. She has 
 no children of her own, and in Paris she can so often 
 visit them." 
 
 " It is a good idea, Marie, as all your ideas are," he 
 replied, affectionately pressing her hand. 
 
 " Charles, it is a great trial ; and yet it is for their 
 good. The idea of separation from them is almost 
 death ; but they will be kindly treated, and habits of 
 industry will be taught them. But oh I" she continued 
 with vehemence, " if they go, and, Charles, you were 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 17 
 
 to be taken from me all ! and even I, too, might die 
 
 their fate " She shuddered, and the pallor of 
 
 death overspread her countenance. " Ah ! they would 
 have no friend. Their mother's fate, despair ! death ! 
 the slave auction ! shame, and ruin ! Ah ! but there 
 is, there must be a God, and He would not suffer that." 
 
 The blood flushed over Ormond's brow, as he ten 
 derly drew her toward him ; for she trembled convuls 
 ively with excitement, and this was a subject which 
 always caused her extreme agitation. " Come, Marie," 
 he tenderly said, " compose yourself. There is no 
 fear of that. You know that I have no near relations, 
 and those I have are far away among the frozen 
 mountains of New England. The children will have 
 all I possess." 
 
 " I know it, Charles ; I know it ; and I feel all a 
 woman can feel how deeply and how tenderly I love 
 
 you." 
 
 " I believe you, Marie, I believe you ; and you 
 know, Marie, how I prize you." 
 
 " Oh ! Charles, a man can never feel the strength of a 
 woman's love. Oh ! you are dearer to me than others, 
 or than you otherwise would be. Did you not buy me 
 from slavery ay, worse than slavery ? Have you not 
 rescued me from shame, and raised me up to your own 
 condition ? And has your voice ever sounded harshly 
 in my ears ? Never ! Ah ! Charles, I love you, I adore 
 you." And here she fell on his breast again, and wept 
 violently. 
 
 " Come, Marie, come do not let such scenes of 
 horror trouble your mind. They are like the stormy 
 wind passing through the strings of a harp ; they 
 produce notes of discord and sorrow. Come, my love, 
 only summer winds, light and gentle, should pass 
 
18 THE CREOLE OKPHANS. 
 
 through your harp, and call forth sweet* sounds, such 
 as you delight me with. Come, you shall play for 
 me. Come !" He arose, and led her gently to a 
 piano ; and as she struck the keys, he leaned over her, 
 and drank in the rich and silvery sweetness of her 
 voice. " You have improved much, Marie," he said, 
 as she arose after she had finished, " and have well 
 profited by Ciralle's lessons." 
 
 She smiled with a gratified air, and leaned her head 
 on him as he led her back to her seat. 
 
 " And now that your mind is composed, let us sit 
 and talk awhile." 
 
 "Well, Charles," she replied, "will you be angry 
 if I say something to you ?" 
 
 " Surely not, Marie ; no subject is forbidden to you ; 
 but I see by your gravity that it is another one of my 
 sins of omission." 
 
 " Charles, I can not reproach you ; but you know, 
 according to law, I am still in bondage." 
 
 " True, true, Marie ; and there is another sin often 
 years' standing ; and I assure you that there has not 
 been a single week during the past year that I have 
 not intended to act in the matter. But," continued 
 he, " you know the cause, Marie. It is a shrinking, a 
 repugnance to make an expose of our situation. Still 
 it must be done." 
 
 " That is all, Charles, and I am sure you will neglect 
 it no longer." 
 
 "Doubt it not, Marie; but what, let me ask, makes 
 you think of such things to-night ?" 
 
 "I scarce know why it is, but there has a most singular 
 thing happened to me. The other day, as I was un 
 packing some bulbs which had been put up last season, 
 my eye caught a line on the paper cover I paused 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 19 
 
 and read it, it was a leaf of an old law-book 
 one sentence most particularly attracted my notice; 
 but you are laughing at me." 
 
 " No, no, proceed ; you quite interest me." 
 
 "Well, it ran thus it was headed, ' Las siete Par- 
 tidas. The children who are born of a free man and 
 a slave are themselves slaves, as they follow the condition 
 of the mother? " 
 
 "Well." 
 
 " And it went on, and gave the law of descent, and 
 stated that illegitimate children could not inherit prop 
 erty which was the father's." 
 
 " Well, that is all true the leaf, which you acci 
 dentally came across, is a portion of our old Spanish 
 law, but do not be uneasy, Marie maybe the thing 
 was intended by Providence to hasten me on to action 
 in this matter." 
 
 " Oh, Charles, I feel no fear so long as we both shall 
 live, but our God only has the knowledge when we 
 shall die. Consider if it were soon or suddenly, the 
 situation of our children." 
 
 " You represent your case in a strong light, Marie ; 
 but I hope no such event will happen soon." 
 
 " God avert it ; but we are in His hands." 
 
 " Most true, Marie. If I were to reason with you, I 
 might be persuaded within the pale of the Church." 
 
 " Charles, do you know that I am a little inclined to 
 be superstitious?" 
 
 " Can I doubt it, when you believe in signs ?" 
 
 "Nay," she added, playfully; "do not begin with 
 ridicule." 
 
 " Well, proceed." 
 
 " Do you remember old Celeste, who died at the 
 plantation last summer ?" 
 
 "Yes, I do, and think before she died she used 
 
20 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 about three gallons of my best brandy to keep her 
 1 sperits 1 up, as she said." 
 
 " Well, I had been very kind to her, and about an 
 hour before she died, she called me close to her side. 
 She had, you know, been a priestess or conjuror, or 
 something of the kind in her own country. ' Missis,' 
 she said, * you has been mighty kind to the poor old 
 creetur, and I must give you the warnin before I 
 leave.' She gazed at me long and earnestly. At 
 length she said, c Child, I am going soon, but listen to 
 the words of an old woman who loves you. Your 
 eye is bright, and the plow of grief has not been over 
 your brow yet ; it is smooth the current of your life 
 flows calmly, but there are hidden quicksands below. 
 Now turn your eyes to where the cold north wind 
 comes from, then and there will come that cold wind 
 to blight your soul and wither it up. Yet stay,' she 
 quickly said, 'there may be a different fate you 
 may sleep upon a cold pillow before that I see a 
 cross line in your hand ;' (she had taken my hand a 
 moment before) ; ' your children may feel the blight ; 
 but it will come. I tell you to warn you, not for 
 spite.' She died very soon after, having, at her 
 request, been lifted up to see the sun set." 
 
 "Pshaw! nonsense," cried Ormond, laughing heartily ; 
 " why, old Celeste, your Pythoness, had been in her 
 dotage for five years previous to her death." 
 
 " Oh, may be so," replied Marie, " but her words 
 always had a great effect upon me. Did you never 
 observe that, from the most common negro language, 
 she would branch off, and her conversation even 
 become eloquent and fervid?" 
 
 " Yes, that was for effect she was naturally intel 
 ligent but come, you are tired, and to-morrow we 
 will go to the plantation." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "All, in a reverend row, 
 
 Their gray-haired grandsires, sitting in the sun 
 Before the gate, and leaning on their staff, 
 The well-remembered stories of their youth 
 Recount, and shake their aged locks with joy." 
 
 HHHE morning came, fair and balmy. The population 
 -*- of the portion of the city, in which Colonel Or- 
 mond resided, were not then, nor are they now, remark 
 able for early rising. 
 
 While the Americanized portion of the metropolis 
 began to resound to the noise, confusion and bustle 
 incident to a commercial port, this part was almost 
 buried in silence. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock that Colonel Ormond, 
 Marie, and the children, who, furnished with shawls, 
 and, stowed among carpet-bags and band-boxes, ac 
 companied by old Sylvia, the nurse, stepped into a 
 carriage in waiting, and were rolled down to the good 
 steamer " Baton Rouge," then lying at the levee, 
 ready to leave for Bayou Sara and the coast which 
 trip then generally occupied two days and nights. 
 
 Among the passengers there were many different 
 characters. There was the Northerner returning home, 
 well posted up as to the " Slavery Question " in the 
 South ; the green country boy who had been to the 
 city for the first time, and the old sugar planter, 
 who was hobnobbing with the up-land cotton planter 
 at the bar. 
 
22 THECREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 There were many of Colonel Ormond's acquaint 
 ances on board, and tie formed many new ones. 
 
 By one of his friends, he was introduced to a North 
 ern gentleman by the name of Hartley. With this 
 person he was peculiarly struck from the first. He 
 was a tall, handsome man, with a pleasing expression 
 of countenance, and an upright bearing. He had been 
 sent by one of the Northern banks on business, and 
 his present destination, in furtherance of his object, was 
 a small river town. -He was much pleased with Colo 
 nel Ormond. It was his first visit to the South, and 
 he exhibited much concern in the planting interest, in 
 asmuch as, having been bred among people that hold 
 that Slavery is a crime, he was surprised to find erro 
 neous the views which he had imbibed regarding it. 
 He was a thorough-bred and educated gentleman. 
 Colonel Ormond was amused at the earnestness, with 
 which he propounded the most absurd questions in re 
 gard to the negroes, and at the queries he put to over 
 seers on the plantations where the boat stopped. 
 
 After some further conversation with him, Ormond at 
 length gave him an invitation to visit him at his plant 
 ation. This was done partly because he learned that 
 Hartley's object was the purchase of a large amount of 
 stock in a city bank in which he was himself a stock 
 holder. 
 
 The invitation was gratefully accepted. 
 
 It was a placid Sabbath evening as the steamer 
 neared Colonel Ormond's landing, and, as her massive 
 bell tolled out its deep sound, she slackened her head 
 way, and approached the shore. What a sight was 
 there to give the lie to the foul calumnies of the North 
 ern agitator 1 
 
 The family residence, built like many others on the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 23 
 
 coast, was after the " olden French style." It was sup 
 ported on brick pillars ; and a large and spacious por 
 tico ran around it. Those old Frenchmen, how wise 
 they were ! They studied the sanitary rules of archi 
 tecture instead of leaving their dwellings " squat" and 
 flat on the ground, where no circulation of air could 
 be had, and where they got' the full benefit of all the 
 unhealthy emanations of a soil, composed of the very 
 elements of malaria. They elevated their houses 
 high, had tight floors, wide galleries, and a free cur 
 rent of pure, dry air. The roof ran up very steep and 
 was crowned by a cupola, surrounded with a heavy 
 balustrade. The yard was ornamented with that pride 
 of the south, the live-oak, which afforded a grateful 
 shade during the summer heat. 
 
 Then there was to the rear and left a dense grove of 
 orange, which ran along by the garden fence. The 
 garden itself was tastefully laid out in plots, and boast 
 ed a fine collection of horticultural treasures. Out 
 side of the yard, and beyond the garden, was the Quar 
 ter for the negroes. The houses ran in four equal 
 rows, at angles from the river. In the midst was the 
 overseer's house, which, like the rest, was brilliant with 
 a new coat of whitewash ; and the whole were buried 
 in a little forest of China-trees. At one corner of the 
 " quarter" yard was the hospital, where the sick daily re 
 ceived the attentions of a skillful physician, and were 
 well nursed by an old negress who gloried in the title 
 of "Grumbling Sally." 
 
 Near the overseer's house hung a massive bell, at the 
 summons of which, the labors of the day were com 
 menced and ended. 
 
 Beyond the Quarter were the negroes' gardens and 
 chicken-houses. The stables and corn-houses could 
 
24 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 be seen through the trees further back ; while the tall 
 chimneys of the sugar-house overlooked the whole. 
 
 It was indeed a scene of beauty and good order. 
 The steamer landed our- party ; crowds of negroes of 
 all ages, sexes and colors, came thronging to meet 
 them ; smiling and glad faces were all around, eager 
 and clamorous to bid a welcome to a kind and indulg 
 ent master. Mr. Hartley accompanied the family to 
 the house. He had seen enough in his brief inter 
 course with the South, to appreciate how gross was 
 the misrepresentation, how foul and ungenerous the 
 slanders, which had been dinned into his ears from 
 his infancy. He had been taught to look upon the 
 slaveholder as a kind of half-human monster, with no 
 feeling, nor sentiment of refinement in his composition. 
 And the life of the slave, a dull and continued round 
 of suffering, an eternal groan of agony ; with no ray 
 of comfort, and no kind word to cheer thankless la 
 bor from year to year. He therefore had been taught 
 hatred of the system as one of the cardinal virtues. 
 But Mr. Hartley was a man of observation ; he did 
 not allow cradle doctrine to influence him in his opin 
 ions. He saw before him a sample of the South, a na 
 tive picture, not flattered or got up for effect, he saw 
 the slaves in their every- day life, a happy, contented, 
 and careless race ; well fed as their looks testified ; well 
 lodged and not over-tasked ; and he at once mentally 
 drew the comparison between the negroes and their 
 happy condition, and the starved laborer of the North. 
 He saw the slave well taken care of, and comprehend 
 ed that it would be so, if not from philanthropy, at 
 least for the sake of their available labor. He then 
 turned his thoughts to the North. He called to mind 
 the thousand families, who, pale and attenuated by 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 25 
 
 want .and sickness, are shut up in their narrow, filthy 
 dens ; where vice and depravity stalk abroad, and the 
 wretched inmates live and die, in a state ' lower than, 
 the brutes of the earth ; where murder rears its 
 bloody front, and incest, and crimes too horrible for 
 even the police officers' gaze, are as frequent as the 
 revolutions of our planet ; and he cursed mentally the 
 bigoted fanatics, who delight in creating feuds between 
 people, who should be on terms of amity. 
 
 Colonel Ormond, late in the evening, invited Mr. 
 Hartley to a stroll through the Quarter. They passed 
 to the front and entered 1>he yard. Groups of negroes 
 were scattered around in different attitudes. There 
 were seated, on a bench under the trees, some two or 
 three older ones, whose patriarchal appearance and 
 gray locks attracted immediate notice. 
 
 Around them was a group of younger ones, who 
 eagerly listened to the conversation of their seniors. 
 
 There were another set stretched at full length on 
 the green grass ; happy, and unconscious of the deep 
 degradation of their situation. There was a troop of 
 noisy children, who stopped their gambols on the grass 
 to crowd around the stranger and their master, who 
 to please them spoke kindly to them. Bursts of 
 laughter went forth from them when they replied to 
 his questions. They seemed delighted at his notice ; 
 but exhibited none of that fright which would be 
 shown by those, with whom kindness was not usual. 
 They came around a merry grinning troop ; they ex 
 amined Mr. Hartley's dress, and handled his watch 
 chain without fear or hesitation. At the doors of 
 some of the houses, were seen sitting the inmates quiet 
 ly smoking their pipes, while ever and anon a snatch 
 of a hymn would issue from the tenements of the pious. 
 
26 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 All were free from care and happy in the possession 
 of enough. 
 
 As Mr. Hartley turned and gazed over the scene, 
 he thought he had never seen a more interesting spec 
 tacle. The deep respect paid to their master, as they 
 returned to the house ; the combined sounds at this 
 lovely hour ; the pale blue smoke from the chimneys, 
 as the negroes prepared their evening meal all 
 formed a picturesque impression which he never forgot. 
 
 One character presented himself, who deserves men 
 tion. He was called old Uncle Pierre. ,He had been, 
 when a child, brought from Congo. He was a middle- 
 sized old man about fifty years of age, and evidently 
 considered himself a privileged favorite. He had a 
 great passion for putting on pompous airs ; speaking to 
 the other negroes with a tone of authority, and using 
 big words, which he generally put in the wrong place. 
 He came up, and, after making his best bow, informed 
 his master how careful he had been during his absence, 
 and lauded himself very highly. He was kept about 
 the garden and yard, and attended to his master's 
 house, a kind of "boy" of all work. But of Pierre 
 anon. Colonel Ormond gave him a kind word, and 
 they returned to the house and to the evening meal. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Vincit Veritas." /' ."* 
 
 TpOE a few days nothing of interest transpired. Mr. 
 -*- Hartley remained a v great portion of the time in 
 the house. Marie he treated with the greatest court 
 esy. He talked with the children, and laughed heartily 
 at the gambols of the little negroes. He rode with 
 Colonel Ormond or played chess in the evening ; or he 
 would steal out alone on the river bank and muse on 
 his northern home, as he gazed over the cold dull 
 water. He listened to old Pierre's stories with atten 
 tion, and then coolly informed him that he believed 
 every word of them. In fact he had rendered himself 
 a general favorite in a short time. 
 
 " Mr. Hartley," said Colonel Ormond to him one 
 morning after breakfast ; " come with me into the 
 Quarter. I want you to see the way our negroes are 
 treated with regard to comfort, food and sickness. 
 
 " Here," he continued as they stopped before the 
 door of the hospital, " let us enter." It was a square 
 building of two rooms, with a small gallery in front. 
 One room was destined for the males, and the other 
 for the opposite sex. Every' thing was scrupulously, 
 neat and clean. In the male department there were 
 three patients. They wefre on cots, a number of which 
 were placed around the room/' Colonel Ormond went 
 up to each one. He inquired aft^J their ailments, 
 and, after making some gentle remark, turned and en- 
 
 "' 
 
28 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 tered the other room. Here were also several patients. 
 The dispensary was in this room, and fully supplied 
 with medicines.' 
 
 Colonel Ormond now rang a small bell, and old 
 " grumbling Sally" answered the summons. She was 
 a thin, spare negress, with an erect figure and an intel 
 ligent countenance. " She is the nurse of the hos 
 pital," remarked he, " and can undertake the care of a 
 common case, as well as some physicians. She under 
 stands all the simple medicines and their doses, and is 
 always within hearing of the bell." 
 
 After making a few remarks to her, they left the 
 building. 
 
 " That is a precious old coon," said Colonel Ormond, 
 " and would amuse you by her originalities ; she has 
 no faith in the regular doctors, except my family phy 
 sician, Dr. Grant, and imagines that the doctor and she 
 have more real knowledge than all the faculty beside. 
 She is -never satisfied, however, and he,nce she is known 
 by the name of ' grumbling Sally.' " 
 
 Scarcely had he said this, ere they heard her shrill 
 voice in full blast at a number of little negroes, who 
 were at some of their pranks. The gentlemen next 
 entered several of the houses. These were furnished 
 very plainly, but cleanly. A bed in the corner, and 
 perhaps two, clothes hanging on pegs around the room, 
 a pine table and a few chairs made on the place, to 
 gether with chests and a plentiful supply of cooking 
 utensils, completed the list and what would they want 
 more? 
 
 " How do you feed them ?" asked Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " On Sunday morning the overseer goes to the meat- 
 house, and there assembles the negroes ; four pounds 
 of pork are weighed out to each one and they get a ' 
 
THE CKEOLE OEPHANS. 29 
 
 peck of meal, a half gallon of molasses, beans, sweet 
 potatoes and vegetables, which they raise themselves. 
 They are allowed to raise chickens and always have a 
 supply of eggs." 
 
 " What time do they go to work?" 
 
 " At daylight, and stop at sundown, rest two to 
 three hours during the middle of the day, but have 
 nearly every Saturday afternoon and evening to wash 
 and mend, and cultivate their patches. On Sunday 
 they either go to church or remain at home, as may 
 please them. They always have a week after the 
 grinding season is over." 
 
 " The negroes look clean ; is it true they have only 
 two pair of pantaloons a year ?" 
 
 "Oh! that," laughed Colonel Ormond, "is another 
 of the Abolition sayings. I give my negroes three 
 and sometimes four suits a year from head to foot, but 
 generally they give only two suits a year." 
 
 "Have they no amusements?" 
 
 " Often they have a dance of a moonlight night ; for 
 there are several fiddlers, and then we give them a big 
 dinner occasionally ; but, my dear sir you must not 
 imagine that I personally attend to all this ; my over 
 seer takes charge of these things ; I give general orders, 
 and that is enough." 
 
 " You do not punish often?" 
 
 "Seldom; my overseer is a good manager, and 
 when he does punish it is done effectually ; but it is 
 seldom a negro is struck." 
 
 "They are a happy set," remarked Mr. Hartley, 
 " and I am undeceived." 
 
 " Ah 1 if all our Northern brethren could come and 
 witness the truth, a great change would take place in 
 their judgments." 
 
30 THE CREOLE OKPHANS. 
 
 " I am gratified beyond measure," lie replied. "I 
 had been led to believe that the life of the slave was 
 horrible ; that the chain of slavery galled their bodies ; 
 that the lash of the overseer was never idle ; that not 
 one ray of hope broke through the dark horizon of 
 their life. But I find that I, with thousands, have been 
 deluded, and that the imaginary chain sits as lightly 
 as a golden one on the bosom of beauty. And I now 
 say unhesitatingly, that the life of the negro at the 
 South is many tipaes better than that of the lower 
 working clases at the North." 
 
 " I have no means of judging." 
 
 " Ah ! colonel, but I have. I have seen the oppres 
 sion of the rich over the poor, the grinding exaction, 
 the unfeeling disregard of any thing but monej^." 
 
 " Well, they will learn wisdom probably." 
 
 Just then they were passing by the hospital, and 
 heard the tones of " old Sally ;" they were hid behind 
 the projection of the porch. She was rattling away at 
 a terrible rate at the abuses, which, in her opinion, re 
 quired correcting. They listened to her a moment 
 and then walked on, thus breaking off the conversa 
 tion regarding slavery, which pleased Colonel Ormond, 
 for he really disliked discussions on the subject. 
 
 They stopped at the stable. Old Pierre was there 
 superintending .the operation of drenching a horse. 
 
 " Now, you ignorent nigger," he said; "you com 
 mences dis way ; you ties his head up at a angle of 
 forty -five degrees, and den he takes it like a lamb. 
 Poor fellow; nowdat's his way. Dar, it's gone down 
 in his diafram now. Come, Jim, git up and ride him 
 around. Dat 's one of massa's best horses." Here he 
 turned and, suddenly seeing the gentlemen, he be- 
 
\ 
 
 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 81 
 
 came very active ; but, in showing his activity, he dis 
 played his situation he^was tolerably drunk. 
 
 " Well, Pierre," said the colonel, " you have made 
 a mistake, I see. You, instead of the horse, have taken 
 the whisky." 
 
 "Well, master," replied he ; grinning, " I almost be 
 gin to be feered I is. But dat was a mistake, on my 
 part, sah." 
 
 '" Yes, so I see," replied the colonel ; " that is your 
 besetting sin, Pierre. Go to your cabin." 
 
 " Massa, if you stop one minute, I tell you how it 
 was. You see, I had de drench in one hand, and some 
 water in de other, an " 
 
 They turned away, leaving Pierre to finish "at his 
 leisure. 
 
 It was night ; but Ormond and Mr. Hartley sat in 
 the gallery, enjoying their cigars. Mr. Hartley had 
 that evening been taking a general round of the plant 
 ation. 
 
 "Well ; colonel," he said, "I have been this even 
 ing to the back of the plantation, and had a long 
 walk ; and I have been favored with the company of 
 Pierre on my return." 
 
 ' " Pierre considers himself a privileged character a 
 sort of patriarch of the Quarter; he talks more and 
 does less than any one on the place." 
 
 "He causes me to laugh often at his big words, 
 which he generally misuses ridiculously." 
 
 " He stretches the long bow, you observe ?" 
 
 "Yes ; his exploits are many and wonderful." 
 
 " But there is a peculiarity about him, which you 
 may not have discovered." 
 
 " What is that ?" 
 
 " His love of whisky." 
 
32 THE C K JbJ u .u j* ORPHANS. 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it is the failing of the race, and more 
 particularly of his tribe." 
 
 " What is it?" 
 
 "Pierre is a Zambo, the most miserable and de 
 graded race we have ; selfish, cunning and thieving. 
 It is almost impossible to attach them to you by kind 
 ness, so as to be secure from their treachery. But he 
 is better than his race generally, and Pierre is not de 
 void of some points of good sense. He is exceedingly 
 shrewd, and one would not discover it at first. I have 
 seen his countenance change in a moment from a look 
 of intelligence to one of almost apparent idiocy ; but 
 it is only when he has some end of his own to serve." 
 
 " Well,- Pierre has been giving me a description of 
 a lake near here, where he says one may have some 
 sport, fishing." 
 
 " That much is true, Mr. Hartley ; and if you say 
 so, I will have some provisions put up; and, if you 
 will go down the bayou to the lake, I will ride over, 
 get two friends, and join you at s&y twelve o'clock." 
 
 " Could you not accompany me?" 
 
 " I have an engagement until ten ; but you may 
 confidently look for us. I will make a servant put up 
 something, and you can take Pierre and Florat, one 
 for fish, and the other for game. Take a gun along, 
 and my word for it, your visit will be repaid." 
 
 " I should like "much indeed to go ; but who is this 
 Florat?" 
 
 " He is a yellow Creole boy, about thirteen years old. 
 He knows every turn in the swamp, every crook in 
 the bayou, and every hole in the lake. He knows all 
 the fish by sight, and the alligators by name ; can 
 shoot better, and scream louder, and is the greatest 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 33 
 
 little devil that you ever saw. However, you will find 
 out all' about him, and be regularly introduced by 
 Pierre." 
 
 " I then avail myself of your kindness, colonel." 
 
 " I will bring with me a particular friend, Doctor 
 Grant, and another a real hot-blooded Southerner 
 Mr. Herndon, a Creole a true specimen of an intelli 
 gent, high-minded and pure Louisianian. He has but 
 one fault, and that is his antipathy to abolitionists. 
 He will reason with you for hours on slavery, which. 1 
 think is the most tedious thing in the world." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to meet your friends ; but, 
 about the arguments in regard to slavery, Mr. Hern 
 don will have a one-sided affair, as I am now con 
 vinced of Northern ignorance in the premises." 
 
 " We have the glory of one more proselyte, then," 
 said the colonel, laughing. " Well, I am glad to hear 
 it, and Hernden will meet you as a brother. He is 
 one of the most fiery fellows you ever saw ; but there 
 breathes no nobler spirit then his. At the same time 
 he is courteous in his reasoning. But this is one of 
 his favorite topics, and he always broaches it to a 
 Northerner. He is only the type of a class in the 
 South." 
 
 2* 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Here in its gay network and fantastic twine, 
 The purple cogul threads from pine to pine ; 
 And oft as the fresh airs of morning breathe, 
 Dips its long tendrils in the stream beneath ; 
 And, 'mid the cedar's darksome boughs, illumes, 
 "With instant touch, the lori's scarlet plumes." 
 
 Tl/TOKlSriMT came, and with it the singing birds, and 
 f pleasant breeze, rustling among the green leaves 
 of the live oaks and orange boughs, making a gentle, 
 mysterious whispering ; as if the spirits of the forest 
 were holding a soft and low-toned colloquy. Then, 
 too, was heard the sound of the cowboy as he cracked 
 his whip, and began a rude melody, while the cattle- 
 bell kept up a sort of time. There was the glad neigh 
 of the horses, and the happy voices of the negroes, as 
 they went, refreshed after a night's rest, to their work 
 through the waving cane. 
 
 In the orange-trees, now heavy with their golden 
 burden, sat one mocking-bird; while, perched on a 
 shrub in the garden, was another, both making the 
 air melodious with their rich pipings. The atmosphere 
 was laden with sweetness from the rare exotics which 
 found a place in the garden. 
 
 All these combined, make a happy association of 
 sights and sounds ; and where can a man find them 
 with more facility than in a well-ordered Southern 
 plantation ? 
 
THE CREOLE* ORPHANS. 85 
 
 And then, when the rolling season commences, 
 there is the sound of the cart-driver's whip, the shout 
 of the boys, the rattle of the cane-wagons, the hurried 
 rush to the sugar-house, as they tumble their load of 
 cane out, and give place for others, at the foot of the 
 cane carrier. 
 
 The rushing of fires at different furnaces the hiss 
 of steam as the engineer touches a guage-cock the 
 merry laugh and jest of the cane carrier feeders as they 
 throw on the saccharine load the distant sound of the 
 cutter's song, and the hoarse roar of the engine the 
 huge wreath, of steam from the kettles, with the smell 
 of cooked sugar. Then to go in ; to the right the 
 engine labors, it heaves and pants like some monster 
 in pain, as its governor-balls fly round, and the im 
 mense wheels revolve.. The sugar-mill is at work. 
 See those ponderous cylinders of iron ; observe as they 
 turn how they crush and break the cane-stalk ; and 
 see the juice in a liquid stream of syrup, as it runs 
 below to the pan, to be caught in the juice boxes, 
 while the worthless mass, now deprived of all its 
 sweetness, is thrown upon the bagasse shoat, and car 
 ried away to enter into the constituents of a new crop. 
 Then see the operation. A trap is raised, a rush of 
 juice, thick, discolored and filthy the grand is filled 
 it is there limed and clarified, and passes thence to 
 the other kettles. In the kettles it boils and writhes 
 and foams ; it is skimmed ; thrown back and inspis 
 sated by the action of heat, until it is time to make a 
 strike. At each kettle stands a negro man ; his business 
 is to skim and dip, and to pass the liquid from one 
 kettle to another. 
 
 Now they are going to run the syrup from the 
 battery. How rich and odorous 1 There it is in ft 
 
36 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 cooler, where it will remain to granulate. Amid all 
 this creaking machinery and boiling, these seething 
 masses of syrup, and clouds of steam, stands the plant 
 er the type of the true gentleman. He is there the 
 "monarch of all he surveys;" dressed in Attakapas 
 cottonade, a Panama hat on his head, a cigar in his 
 mouth, and an eye to all around him. He looks into 
 the kettles ; then his gaze is turned to the engine. 
 Again he tries the density of the syrup with the syrup- 
 guage or saccharometer, and quickly his eyes are scan 
 ning the operation Spotting sugar in the purgery. 
 
 We might here draw a comparison between the 
 southern manufactory, where the labor is all our own, 
 and the manufactory of the North. Friend of New 
 England, turn your philanthropic eyes a moment here. 
 Do you see that big, fat, greasy negro at this kettle, 
 with a broad grin on his countenance ? See his inde 
 pendence, view his air. Do you see the sign-manual 
 of despair on his brow ? Are there starvation and care 
 and want in that countenance? There is another 
 that one feeding the rolls, see with what an air he 
 chews his tobacco, and squirts it independently around ; 
 then stopping, throwing his hands around him to 
 warm them by the quick motion, ends with a " Whoh 1" 
 Are care and ill treatment marked on that physiog 
 nomy? And see those five or six who have just 
 had their breakfast, good bread, meat, and coffee. 
 Hear their careless, happy u Hah! ha! ha!" Is this 
 the sound of woe and mourning? Where are the 
 whip and chains and branding iron ? 
 
 For shame Pab, that any set of people as " smart" 
 as the Yankees acknowledge themselves to be, should 
 be so miserably gulled, so humbugged with the raw- 
 head and bloody-bone stories, which their abolition 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 37 
 
 leaders, their pamphlets and public journals teach. But 
 it is no joke which the Northern manufactory presents. 
 There you have the sunken eye, the haggard cheek, 
 the gloomy brow, for they are freemen! God save 
 the mark ! freemen ! A sickly wife, a few wretched, 
 squalid, starving children, and miserable wages to 
 barely keep body and soul together. Are there not 
 some of them who would exchange situations with 
 our happy negro ? well fed, well clothed ; lightly 
 worked ; in ill health or good, plenty is before him ; 
 kind attention during illness, and no pang of agony, 
 as he surveys his children, for they are taken care of. 
 Far-seeing Yankee, before you utterly condemn us, 
 come to the 
 
 " Land of the cedar and vine ; 
 "Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine." 
 
 Judge us calmly and fairly, and acknowledge that 
 you have had an erroneous idea of slavery. 
 
 It was again a balmy morning when Mr. Hartley 
 was aroused by old Pierre ; and, hastily swallowing a 
 cup of coffee, he shouldered his gun, and, finding 
 Flgrat below with a basket of provisions, set forth on 
 his errand of destruction. Florat was a lively fellow, 
 active as a monkey, and full of mischief. At about 
 one fourth of a mile from the sugar-house was the 
 beginning of the bayou, which terminated in the lake. 
 This bayou supplied the water, which was used in the 
 boilers, and about the building generally. At its 
 commencement it was wide, clear and deep. A skiff 
 had been placed in the bayou for fishing in the lake. 
 It had now been pushed up to the bank. Florat leaped 
 in, and arranged old Pierre's jacket in the stern for 
 Mr. Hartley, who entered. Pierre then shoved off, 
 
38 T HE CEEOLE CEPHAS'S. 
 
 and, adjusting the seats, selected a pair of oars and 
 began to pull. Hartley remarked that lie seemed to 
 scan the provisions closely. 
 
 " What are you looking after, Pierre ?" he asked. 
 
 "Why you see, sah," answered he, looking very 
 grave ; " wheneber I comes dis way I likes to fetch 
 long' a drop of sperits ; it keeps off de fluvia of de 
 swamp ; and a fellow he is a heap more lucky when 
 he is got it long wid him." 
 
 Hartley burst out into a loud laugh at the philosophy 
 of Pierre. 
 
 " How do you account for that, Pierre?" 
 
 " Donno, sah, only you see dis fishing is a raal 
 scientific tech ; you has to give your hand a kind of 
 tremblin' motion, jest to make de fish tink de ting 
 is live ; for you see de fish heap rather hab de fun of 
 killin' his victuals than to find it dead. He is just 
 like folks bout dat, for you see, sah, dars a natural 
 instinct in a man what makes him love to kill." 
 
 " Well, you are about half right, Pierre, and I sup 
 pose you have not had your morning dram yet." 
 
 "Hal ha! ha!" laughed he. " Well, Massa Hart 
 ley, you is de best guesser I is ever seed. I ain't dat, 
 jist give me a dram or two and I'll make dis old skiff 
 go same like a steamboat. Lord, sah, when I has 
 got some old rye in me, I is a horse ! Tank you 
 very kindly, sah," he continued, smacking his lips with 
 peculiar gout, as he allowed the liquor to slowly trickle 
 down his throat. " I wish I could have dat feeling 
 foreber. Lord, sah, de preacher says dat dis whisky 
 was Vented by de devil ; but its my 'pinion dat it is 
 de pure juice of Pardice." 
 
 Florat grinned with delight as he listened to Pierre. 
 They proceeded down the bayou, under the sturdy 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 39 
 
 strokes of the oar, enlivened and spiced by the odd 
 sayings of Pierre, and the screams of Florat, as he 
 struck at some unlucky young alligator, which, swim 
 ming along, showed itself near the boat, or, as he 
 stabbed in the water desperately at a gasper gow, as it 
 lay listlessly before the bow. 
 
 The banks of the bayou were of soft mold, and 
 were clothed to the bluff edge with weeds, bright wild 
 flowers and mutton cane. Every thing was quiet, 
 save the trill of the mocking-bird, the wild carol of 
 the blackbird, or the melodious warble of the gold 
 finch, as he poised himself on the topmost twig of a 
 tree near by. Then there was the hum of the bee, 
 the whirl of the musqueto-hawk, and mayhap the leap 
 of the fish in the sluggish stream ahead ; or the 
 scream of a crane as it flew off and threw out its un 
 gainly neck and legs ; or the dash of a dozen turtles, 
 as they splashed from a rotten log into the water. 
 
 " Dat is a very curous insect, sah," exclaimed Pierre, 
 pausing a moment in his labor, and wiping the per 
 spiration from his brow, on which it stood in great 
 beads. 
 
 "What, Pierre?" 
 
 "Why, dem cooters, dey is fulfillm the. Scripture, 
 sah." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " Why, sah, dey is always watching; and dey is as 
 hard to catch napping as a hard-shell Baptist." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha !" shouted Florat. 
 
 "De cooter is de boatman, 
 De jay bird de lawyer, 
 De mocking-bird do preacher, 
 De alligator sawyer, 
 Ha, ha, hah! whoop pel' 
 
40 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " Wh wli what you for making all dat fuss for, 
 you black rascal," exclaimed Pierre; turning and 
 making a back-handed lick at him, while he dodged 
 the blow and sprang back laughing. 
 
 Swiftly they glided on. Suddenly Pierre ceased 
 pulling, and laying down his oars, clapped his hand 
 on his stomach, commenced making a good many ugly 
 faces, which he designed as expressive of pain. 
 
 " What is the matter, Pierre?" asked Hartley. 
 
 "Oh! Massa Hartley," groaned he; "I is in a 
 'siderable deal of pain in de region of de abominable." 
 
 "In the what?" asked he, laughing in spite of 
 himself. 
 
 " In de abominable, sah," groaned Pierre ; pressing 
 harder on the pit of his stomach. "Oh I ah ! ugh !" 
 
 " "Well, what must I do for you, Pierre ?" asked 
 Hartley. " What must I give you?" 
 
 " Well, sah, I don't know. I don't think dat nothin' 
 never does me any good but a little sperits. Oh! 
 ugh! ah!" 
 
 Hartley saw through the ruse in a moment. 
 
 " Oh, I see what is the matter with you a touch 
 of cholera. Here, Pierre, take a dram." 
 
 Pierre seized the flask eagerly, put it to his mouth, 
 and took a long pull then drawing a deep breath, re 
 turned it, saying : " Ah ! dat liquor has got a great 
 head, sure. I feels considerable better now, sah." 
 
 " Yery well, Pierre," laughed Hartley ; " you are 
 naw to remember that you are not to have a pain in 
 your * abominable' again until this evening. Then 
 you may have it very slightly. Do you hear, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, sah," grinned Pierre. 
 
 They had now reached the wider part of the bayou, 
 immediately before its connection with the lake ; and 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 41 
 
 a singular sight to the eyes of a Northerner presented 
 itself. A sheet of water of some three miles in extent, 
 surrounded on three sides with & virgin forest of tall 
 cypress and gum was spread out before him. There 
 were several small islands in it. The whole forest 
 was clothed in a garb of melancholy gray moss, which 
 hung from the topmost boughs in heavy waving 
 masses, hoary and ancient, nearly to the water. Every 
 thing around seemed locked in a trance. Yast -trees 
 with no undergrowth, like pillars in some immense 
 cathedral, with this solemn drapery around them, un 
 broken by any opening, bounded the prospect. Far 
 off stood hundreds of large white cranes, motionless, 
 and gazing silently in the water while the solitary 
 heron fished around the edge, ever and anon uttering 
 his peculiar and dismal cry. Upon many logs which 
 were floating in the water, lay sleeping alligators, 
 whom the warmth of the day had awakened from their 
 torpor, to feel the warm sun ; and thousands of turtle 
 of all sizes dotted other logs and islets; and often 
 would be seen the flounce of some fish as it tried to 
 escape the jaws of the ravenous alligator-gar. The 
 southern side of the lake was shallow, and filled with 
 brush, swamp-reeds, and decayed logs. Here the 
 congo and the venomous moccasin held dominion, 
 and battened with the toad, and immense water-spiders, 
 in the mass of decaying and offensive mud, and ooze 
 and leaves and slime. 
 
 The opposite side of the lake was a bluff bank, dry 
 and pleasant ; the water deep, cool and clear, and a 
 grateful shade was afforded. Here the boat was 
 directed, and they then proceeded to dispose of the 
 hamper of provisions which Colonel Ormond had caused 
 
42 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 to be brought. It was lugged out, and placed at tlie 
 root of a noble haekberrj-tree. 
 
 "When this was done, Pierre began his preparations 
 for a morning's sport. He collected bait with a hand- 
 net, and uncoiled his lines. 
 
 " Now, Massa Hartley, suppose you try your hand 
 at a fish, here be de lines, and I 'spect dat de fish bite 
 mighty well dis mornin'. Now, you Florf you look 
 alive, and scoop up some bait." 
 
 Florat, acting upon this hint, stepped out upon a 
 log; and after scooping, as Pierre called it, returned 
 presently with a handful of minnows. These were 
 were quickly impaled on the hooks. 
 
 "Now, Massa Hartley, does you take de lead here, 
 sah. You perceive dat hook has got de insect on it 
 dat's mighty good bait for a hongry trout. I drops 
 him in so, and gin him a switch ;" and suiting the 
 action to the word, he drew his line gently over the 
 water, so as to disturb it slightly. He then let the 
 cork float out slowly. The result was in a moment 
 he had a large white trout hung ; and, after a minute's 
 delay, he laid it gasping on the bank. 
 
 Hartley admired the dexterity of the old fisherman, 
 who evidently enjoyed his triumph. Florat tried his 
 luck, and with the like success. Hartley then seized 
 the pole, which Pierre handed him, and commenced. 
 At first it appeared as if his line was avoided but at 
 length he saw a large perch make a dash he met it, 
 made his sweep, and up came the fish. 
 
 Thus varied the sport ; many trout and perch were 
 pulled up by each, until a goodly lot lay on the bank, 
 and they even began to tire of the amusement. Hart 
 ley was entertained by the oddities of Pierre, and the 
 remarks of Florat. 
 
THE CKEOLE OEPHANS. 43 
 
 So passed the morning ; when Hartley thought it 
 was nearly time for Colonel Ormond to arrive. He 
 therefore laid himself down on the bank, in the shade. 
 
 " Pierre," he exclaimed, " I would like to hear a 
 good fish story." 
 
 Pierre remained silent a moment ; then, looking up, 
 replied, " I 'spect it is almost time to repeat dat drink, 
 sah. You know de Bible says you can't do a good 
 thing too often." 
 
 " Well," laughed he, " Pierre, I will give you a 
 drink if you will tell me a good story about fishing." 
 
 " "Well, sah, dat 's a bargain. I knows one dat's 
 almost as good as poor old Jonah an' dat big whale." 
 
 Hartley gave him the flask, and, after a long 
 draught and a deep sigh, he began : 
 
 "You see, sah, dat dis massa ain't defust one I eber 
 had. I 'longed to ole massa, dis one's father. "Wall, 
 he used to have a heap ob company, and he thought 
 a mighty much ob me. One day, says he, l Pierre, 
 go down to de lake, and get a big mess of fish. Some 
 gentlemen is gwine to dine wid me to-day.' I sets 
 off. You see dat bay -tree dar, wid de branch broke 
 off near de top ? Well : I come down, and I sets 
 right down dar, and goes to work. De way I pulled 
 up de fish were a considerable caution. I got toleble 
 tired arter a while, and so, to rejoice my innards, I 
 took a pull at a little bottle I carried long wid me ; 
 and den I sets to stringing my fish. When I finish 
 dat, I puts 'em in de water to kinder freshen dem, 
 and lights my pipe to have a smoke. I had not set 
 dar for more than five minutes, looking in the water 
 and a meditatin' on dis world, when I seed a whirl, 
 and a great, big, long, sneaking alligator-gar, come a 
 stealing on toward de bank. He was a sailing 'long 
 
44 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 like a dog going to steal in a meat-house. I thought 
 I would watch and say nothin' to him. Well, sah :* 
 he kept coming closer and closer ; and den he all of 
 a sudden made a grab, and he nailed my whole string 
 of fish. Off he went like de debil was after him. 
 Well, now, dar was a mad nigger about in dem times. 
 I naterally danced like a congo. I hollered arter him 
 just to leff half of em to come back ; but he dident 
 pay no more 'tention to me than if I was a blind 
 puppy. 
 
 "So I took another drink and cussed, and had 
 to go to work and catch another mess of fish. "When 
 I got home, dinner was ober, and massa said I was a- 
 drunken rascal ; but he dident whip me. Old massa 
 was mighty good dat way, he was. Oh ! lor, I used 
 to fool him mighty bad sometimes. Well, sah: I 
 just swore I was gwine to match dat gar ; so I got de 
 blacksmith to make me a big hook. I den got two 
 plow-lines, and next day come down here. I tied 
 one end to de boat, and baited de oder with a piece 
 of one of ole massa's little pigs. I pushed out, and 
 lay down to watch. Every now and den I look over 
 de side. Presently I see dat same great big gar come 
 stealing long. I knowed him by de big green eyes. 
 He was a smellin' round, and sidlin' up to de bait, 
 like a highland nigger to a coast gal. After a while 
 he made a grab and seized it. Den he know sure 
 enough dat it was good to eat. It was soon in his 
 belly ; and den it was dat he found out dar was 
 something inside of it ; for he tried to cough, but de 
 hook got fixed in his chitlins, and he. give a jerk. 
 Dat gin him de cholic, and he got wrathy. He 
 opened his mouth and tried hard to get it up. He 
 snorted, and den off he put. Lord, sah ! you is 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 45 
 
 hearn tell of yearthquakes : he made clat old boat 
 howl through de water as if de debil was chained to 
 her, and he went by steam. De ' Diana' wa'n't no 
 whar to her. Bound and round de lake we went, like 
 a streak of greasy lightnin'. We went faster and 
 faster. Sometimes he would jump plum out ob de 
 water, and den he would jerk away one side, and de 
 water would bile and foam round us like soapsuds. 
 At last he seemed tarmined to get rid of me any 
 how, and he took a big sweep round de lake : he 
 made my head swim. He went round it a hundred 
 and ten times; I counted it. Eound and round he 
 went, wid his fins stickin' straight behind, and his 
 head tacked down. Dis de way." 
 
 Here Pierre commenced a series of evolutions, and 
 turned with great velocity to give a practical illustra 
 tion of his story. Poor fellow I he went around once 
 too often, and his feet catching in a root, he went, 
 doubled up, over the bank, in about ten feefr of water, 
 head foremost. 
 
 Hartley dropped down on the ground, in an agony 
 of laughter. Florat hugged a sapling to steady him 
 self, and gave full vent to a series of unearthly noises, 
 intended for laughter ; and, failing to relieve himself 
 in this manner, he let go all hold, and turned several 
 summersets, to the great delight of himself. 
 
 Old Pierre managed to get hold of some roots, 
 and scrambled out. The old fellow was considerably 
 cut down ; but Hartley, still laughing, prescribed a 
 dose of brandy, which soon set him in a good humor 
 again. 
 
 After some time, he said, " Well, Pierre, and then 
 what^happened ?" 
 
 He studied a moment, and, with a quiet grin, re- 
 
46 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 plied, " Well, sail : dat gar ran around de lake so often 
 dat his head 'gan to swim ; and at last he got so mad, 
 and so blind, dat he just jumped ashore, and busted 
 his head right open agin a cypress-tree." 
 
 " That is a very remarkable tale, Pierre." 
 
 " Dat de fact, sah ; and it 's tr^e, too, for I seed it 
 my own self; and, what 's more, I has got dat same 
 old hook, what I cut out of him, now at home in my 
 cabin." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed Florat, 
 
 " Look here, now 1" exclaimed he, turning to 
 Florat in a rage ; " Don't you go, you yaller nigger, 
 to be makin' fun out ob me. I'll bust you open, sure !" 
 
 " Well, Pierre, you and Florat get to dressing some 
 of those fish ; and, by the time Colonel Ormond comes, 
 we will have dinner ready." 
 
 " Well, if there is any thing I does know any thing 
 'bout, it is fixing up fish. Dere's Doctor Grant: he 
 give you a kick wid one foot, and throw you a half 
 a dollar at de same tune. He make de greatest fuss 
 'bout fish, and Florat always bring curry out for him. 
 I can beat him a-cookin a long way. Some of dese 
 white folks, dey tink dey is mighty smart." 
 
 " Doubtless, Pierre." 
 
 " Yes, sirree I and dey don't 'preciate a nigger, no 
 how. Now, you does. Oh ! Mass a Hartley, if you 
 was my massa now." 
 
 " God forbid ! Pierre," laughed Hartley. 
 
 "Dey don't treat old niggers now as dey used to' 
 do." 
 
 " Ah ! how is that, Pierre ? don't you get enough 
 to eat?" 
 
 "Plenty, sah." 
 
 "Are you overworked?" 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 47 
 
 "No sah, I doesent do no work, 'cept 'bout de gar 
 den and yard." 
 
 " What then have you to complain of?" 
 
 " Why sah ! I ain't complainin', I is satisfied very 
 well." He paused a moment, and looking at Hartley 
 in an arch manner, asked 
 
 "Ain't de niggers free in de country you comes 
 from, sah?" 
 
 " Yes, Pierre, they are free." 
 
 " And mighty happy and rich dey* is, sah, ain't 
 dey?" 
 
 " Happy I no, ' the poorest, most miserable, dirty, 
 sickly devils in the world, starving and dying by the 
 hundreds, and hated and despised by the whites." 
 
 " Dat ain't what some of de white folks tells me, 
 sah!" 
 
 "What white folks, Pierre ?" 
 
 " Why, dem men what comes down in de flat-boats, 
 and sells whisky to de niggers. I has had a heap of 
 dem to beg me to run away ; but I is too old." 
 
 "You would only ^ regret it once, Pierre, and that 
 would be always." 
 
 " May be so, sah ! I has had my suspicions dat dey 
 was fooling us, and was only mad case dey dident 
 have no niggers dey self." 
 
 " Perhaps so, and you ought to be satisfied." 
 
 " I is, sah 1 only I don't like de way some folks does ; 
 my massa is a good man, he won't let de overseer hit 
 one ob us ; but he seem to tink sometimes, dat old 
 niggers never wares out." 
 
 " Why, Pierre ! it appears to me that you are treated 
 as well as you deserve." . ' 
 
 " Dat may be so, sah, but my massa ain't like my 
 ole massa was ; we ain't got no regular misses. Now 
 
48 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Miss Marie she is mighty good, but it ain't like a sure 
 enough one." 
 
 "Well, Pierre," exclaimed Hartley, "I have an 
 opinion of my own, that you are an ungrateful scoun 
 drel." He saw through the manner of Pierre in a 
 moment; negro-like he only wanted to be encouraged, 
 to villify and calumniate one of the best of masters ; 
 so he bade him go to work and shut his mouth. 
 
 This he obeyed, and assisted Florat to make a fire, 
 and prepare a meal for the expected arrivals. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' In friendly discourse whiled the time away ; 
 And slaves, obedient to the call, did spread 
 Upon the velvet grass the banquet rare." 
 
 ' Come to the woods in whoso mossy dells 
 A light all made for the poet dwells ; 
 Come, while in freshness and dew it lies, 
 To the world that is under the free blue sky." 
 
 HEMAKB. 
 
 TTARTLEY, after casting his eye on the scaly oper- 
 ** ations going on, shouldered the gun which had 
 been brought along, and sauntered off into the woods. 
 As he advanced, the forest grew thicker and darker. 
 Vast trees, a century or two old, all bearded with the 
 solemn gray moss, extended as far as he could see ; 
 while every few rods he was compelled to make a cir 
 cuitous rout to avoid small lakes and boggy places. 
 
 After wandering more than an hour in these dim 
 old woods, and listening to the rustling of the ancient 
 cypress without seeing any game worthy of a shot, he 
 started to return. 
 
 Suddenly he paused, he heard, a voice' he listened, 
 it was only old Pierre. He retraced his steps hastily, 
 for just then he remembered that he had left the pro 
 visions unguarded, and that there were several bottles 
 of wine, and one of brandy in the basket. He hastened 
 his footsteps, and upon arriving in sight of the lake, 
 
50 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 saw Florat in the boat fishing, and distinctly heard 
 Pierre singing, apparently very happy. The origin 
 of his merriment was suggested. An opening in the 
 woods gave him a view; he paused; here was old 
 Pierre with a bottle in one hand, in the act of making 
 an extempore speech, in which: "rally round the 
 standard," "interests of de country," "traitors," etc. 
 etc., were distinguishable. With the other hand, he was 
 gesticulating furiously, and had even worked himself 
 into tears. Hartley proceeded on, and deep and low 
 were his objurgations of Pierre. He came again in 
 sight of him just in time to witness the closing scene. 
 Pierre had changed it into a private camp-meeting, and 
 the burden of an old negro song rang through the 
 forest. The words which reached his ears, were 
 
 "De big bell tolled, 
 De angel moaned, 
 I invite de strangers home, 
 I 'd rather pray my life away 
 Than lay in torment half a day." 
 
 "Hie, hie, hie!" and then the old negro reeled up, 
 utterly intoxicated. 
 
 Wnen Hartley came up, his abuse was in no meas 
 ured terms. Florat excused himself saying that Pierre 
 had told him that if he would go out and fish, he 
 would attend to cooking ; but he did not know that he 
 was so cunning. He had been delighted with the per 
 formance, though. 
 
 "With his assistance. Hartley dragged Pierre under 
 a tree to sleep off his drunkenness, and set Florat to 
 work at the culinary department. 
 
 Just then a halloo was heard, and in a short time 
 Colonel Ormond, accompanied by two gentlemen, rode 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 51 
 
 up. They were presented to Mr. Hartley, who was 
 visibly embarrassed at the situation in which they 
 had encountered him and the now oblivious Pierre ; 
 but the kind and courteous demeanor of the strangers, 
 soon set him at his ease. Upon a felicitous description 
 of Pierre's mishap, the company were thrown into con 
 vulsions of laughter, and many jokes were cracked at 
 the old fellow's expense. 
 
 Mr. Hartley had leisure to examine his new acquaint 
 ances. Mr. Herndon was a native of Louisiana, his 
 parents having emigrated from Carolina many years 
 before. He was planting near Colonel Ormond, and 
 was a bosom friend. He was a tall, handsome man, 
 with a large blue eye, energetic and fiery, hot and im 
 petuous when aroused,- but no girl of sixteen could be 
 more mild and gentle at other times. He was a sincere 
 and ardent friend; a bitter and implacable enemy. 
 He was pleasant and bland, and impressed Hartley 
 favorably. He was dressed in light pantaloons, with 
 a tight-bodied blue coat, and, in his tout ensemble, was 
 noble and captivating, 
 
 Dr. Grant, on the other hand, was a smaller man, 
 thin and wiry, with bold but aquiline features, with 
 his perceptive faculties largely developed, and an eye 
 dark and piercing. He was a merry, whole-hearted 
 Virginian, who after receiving his diploma at the Uni 
 versity, from the hands of its founder, established 
 himself in the sunny South. Here he married, and 
 ties of long association, and mutual esteem, bound him 
 and Colonel Ormond to each other. 
 
 "Come, gentlemen, let's liquor," was the given and 
 accepted invitation. 
 
 " Florat, be lively now," said the colonel, " and let 
 us see how quickly you can have some dinner ready." 
 
52 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " I will take the lead in the cooking," said Dr. 
 Grant. " You know, Herndon, that the ladies say I 
 am the most accomplished cuisinier in the whole 
 parish." 
 
 " Yes, doctor," he replied, "if you had graduated at 
 Tortoni's in Paris, instead of in your medical school, 
 you would have been invaluable." 
 
 All laughed, and good-humoredly assisted each 
 other in preparing the meal, enlivening the labor with 
 well-seasoned repartee and wit. 
 
 At length the fish were frying, and a cloth from the 
 boat spread on the leaves, garnished with plates brought 
 for the purpose, and all the little adjuncts which are 
 never neglected by those who are accustomed to re 
 unions of this kind. 
 
 " Come, Florat, now for the curry" exclaimed Dr. 
 Grant. "Not enough coriander, too much turmeric, 
 cayenne right. Ormond, you should get me to make 
 your curry powders ; I had an old uncle who lived in 
 India, he taught me, he made me the gourmand I am ; 
 and left me nothing to support my taste. There 
 now, Florat, serve up some more." 
 
 We will not weary the reader with the dinner in 
 the woods ; but only hope he may with old wine and 
 good cheer, spirited conversation, and a fine cigar, 
 enjoy such things as heartily as we have often enjoyed 
 them. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hartley," said Herndon as he leaned 
 back against a tree, puffed his cigar, and settled him 
 self comfortably. " I hope you enjoy Southern life." 
 
 " Thus far," replied Mr. Hartley smiling " I am more 
 than satisfied, I am delighted." 
 
 " Colonel Ormond informs me, that you are from the 
 land of steady habits, sir." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 53 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Herndon, I shall have to confess to 
 that count I am a Yankee." 
 
 " No disgrace, Mr. Hartley," he laughed, u I had 
 rather be a Yankee, any time, than a Scotchman. We 
 welcome our Northern brethren, warmly sir, when 
 they come unprejudiced, to share our hospitality, but " 
 
 " Herndon," quickly cried Colonel Ormond, giving 
 him at the same time a meaning look, 
 
 "Bah!" laughed Mr. Herndon. 
 
 " Yotre promesse " 
 
 " Si je puis." Then turning to Hartley he continued. 
 " Do you know, Mr. Hartley, that I am under a promise 
 to Colonel Ormond, to abstain from introducing the 
 subject of slavery to day ?" 
 
 " Well," answered he, " I certainly appreciate the 
 Colonel's delicacy, but as far as I am concerned it will 
 not be disagreeable." 
 
 " There now," said Herndon, turning to "Colonel 
 Ormond, " I see that Mr. Hartley is a half Southerner 
 already." 
 
 " I have been only a short time in the South, but I 
 can say that I have been pleasantly surprised, at the 
 difference of treatment to slaves, from what I had been 
 accustomed to believe." 
 
 " Yes, they are treated much better than they de 
 serve ; they are a degraded race, and, are not suscepti 
 ble of the feelings of human beings ; they are pretty 
 things to make freemen of, any how. Now, Mr. Hart 
 ley," he continued, turning and pointing to Pierre. 
 " There is an old scamp whom you know is well-treat 
 ed, fed and indulged, beyond his desert. He has as 
 kind a master as ever lived. Well, take that negro as 
 an example. Talk with him about his master, listen 
 to him, and, if you are credulous, you will believe that 
 
54 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 that master should have been in the Penitentiary ten 
 years since." 
 
 Mr. Hartley felt how true this was, for he had that 
 day had it "brought home to him. "I have always 
 heard that the negro was grateful for kindness, and 
 took an interest in his owner's success." 
 
 " There are honorable exceptions to the rule I have 
 laid down, Mr. Hartley, but they are very few. But 
 in general the negro is so coarse in his feelings, that he 
 is totally incapable of having a real affection for his 
 owners ; he may have a preference, but it is all habit. 
 Whip a dog, and he will love you, is an old vulgar 
 saying, which will apply to a negro ; for it is a well-es 
 tablished fact that the more sternly and harshly they 
 are treated, the more they will bear the semblance of 
 esteem." 
 
 " Do you not think that the state of slavery is the 
 cause of this gross feeling in the negro ?" 
 
 " Most certainly not ; they will not bear liberty, for as 
 soon as the restraints which the whites impose on them 
 are withdrawn, they soon return to a state of barbarism. 
 This is proven in every country where the law of 
 emancipation has passed. They are not fit for it and 
 even the colony now being established in Liberia is gov 
 erned by white men, and its affairs conducted by the 
 whites or mulattoes. Take away the Circassian, leave 
 the pure negro alone, and in a few years there would 
 not be discovered the faintest ray of civilization. 
 
 " Look at the British possessions in the West 
 Indies a few years since, the act of emancipation 
 passed the British Parliament. What is the result ? 
 Freedom to the negro! it is a bitter boon. I have 
 traveled in Jamaica and St. Domingo, since the negroes 
 were freed. What a change ! What a scene of deso- 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 55 
 
 lation met my eyes! Magnificent mansions, which 
 once echoed to the sound of happy voices, are silent 
 as the grave. Large fields once teeming with heavy 
 crops of cane, yielding to the inroads of a rank and 
 unwholesome vegetation, grown up in bushes, and 
 the dwelling-place of the viper and the scorpion. 
 
 " Costly sugar-houses, with expensive fixtures, going 
 to decay, doors off their hinges, the grass growing, 
 rank and luxuriant, around their once bustling courts. 
 Machinery imported at immense cost, eaten up with 
 rust. All silent and untenanted. The hearth-stone 
 cold, desolation and decay every where. God keep 
 my beloved country from witnessing such a catas 
 trophe! And where, sir, are those once happy fami 
 lies? Where? Scattered to the four winds of 
 Heaven, penniless and destitute. And the slaves, too, 
 is their condition bettered ? Poor, degraded, pilfering 
 wretches, dragging out a miserable existence. Every 
 inducement offered to them to improve their condition 
 work and plenty- good wages and rewards. But, 
 if you would find them, go to the crowded hospitals, 
 the grog-shops, and other scenes of debauchery, there 
 the free negro flourishes in all his glory. And these 
 are the fruits of emancipation ruining families, debas 
 ing servants, and converting fertile fields into a wilder 
 ness of bramble and thistle. These are the effects of 
 this mistaken system cursed be the head which ever 
 conceived them ! And even now, in the face of all 
 this, the government of France is pursuing the same 
 ruinous system. JSTow, if our friends at the North, 
 who have an idea that all the negro wants is freedom 
 to put himself on a level, in all respects, with the 
 white race, wish to try it, there is a field open for their 
 experiment." 
 
56 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 "You draw a very painful picture of the effects 
 of emancipation, Mr. Herndon," said Mr. Hartley; 
 11 and although I am not as ultra as you are, still, 
 I must confess, that there is much truth in your 
 statement." 
 
 " I like you, Mr. Hartley, because you are not as 
 rabid as some I wot off, and are willing to listen, and 
 do not bring up the infernal cant of religion to sustain 
 you. I would so much not blame the foreigner for 
 abusing our system, but when the abuse comes from 
 our^ brethren, only separated by a few hundred miles, 
 and they declare an open and undying war against us, 
 for the very system by which they live, and grow 
 wealthy that is more than we can stand. 
 
 "As men are the natural enemies of snakes, and 
 other vermin, so am I the foe of an abolitionist. Here 
 they come, pressing themselves into the service of our 
 negroes groaning and lifting up their eyes in pious 
 horror. They push their sympathy too far ; but by 
 their actions rivet the chains on the slave faster. They 
 retard the prospect of future improvement in the 
 Northern slave-holding states; and scatter the seeds 
 of discord, misery, and bloodshed between us. And 
 all this is done in the name of philanthropy. But, 
 Mr. Hartley, there is a time coming when * forbear 
 ance will cease to be a virtue ;' and when the South 
 will no longer submit to have their feelings outraged 
 their rights disregarded and their domestic relations 
 invaded with impunity. The Southron will cease to 
 endure ; ' will cease to point calmly to the Constitution ;' 
 and the Northerner to the ' higher law ;' then will be 
 heard the clash of arms, and then will ruin and shame 
 overcome us." 
 
 " God forbid 1" exclaimed Mr. Hartley. 
 

 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 57 
 
 "Come, gentlemen, let's liquor," cried Dr. Grant, 
 trying to divert the conversation. 
 
 " Now," said Colonel Ormond, as soon as the liquor 
 had been dispatched ; "I have one word to say I 
 have been listening to Herndon attentively and I 
 can not but admit that he has expressed my feelings 
 much better than I could. I noticed a remark made 
 about the gratitude of negroes. That virtue is not 
 in their catalogue. I will relate an instance, a real 
 fact, none of your fancy sketches got up for effect. 
 
 " A Northern gentleman, a lawyer of ability, settled 
 some years ago in one of the Florida parishes in this 
 State. He very soon commanded a share of business. 
 He married the daughter of a respectable old planter 
 in an adjoining parish. The planter owned negroes, 
 and, of course, the son-in-law inherited through his 
 wife. He was strongly imbued with the notion of 
 emancipation. Conversations with his wife tinctured 
 her mind with the doctrine, and he then formed a 
 plan for the ultimate emancipation of their slaves. 
 
 "About this time he acquired, by the successful 
 defense of a suit, a large tract of land in the State of 
 Illinois, and he then determined to carry into practice 
 his Utopian idea of establishing a colony of free 
 negroes on the land, and for himself to play the 
 Patriarch to his flock. 
 
 " In accordance with those feelings, he visited 
 Illinois, had the land surveyed ; and, after making his 
 final arrangements, returned and removed all his 
 negroes and family thither. He built a dwelling, and 
 houses, for the negroes, and furnished the houses com 
 fortably. He emancipated all his slaves, and put his 
 theory to the test of practice. Upon the principle of 
 the community farms, he laid out his fields, and gave 
 
 3* 
 
58 THE CEEOLE 
 
 the negroes an interest in the crop. The first year 
 they did tolerably well, but grumbled a good deal upon 
 the division. During the spring of the second year, 
 several left him, and by the time the crop was ready to 
 harvest, he had scarcely half of his original force. The 
 negroes who remained were given to intoxication, in 
 subordination and idleness, and he then began to see 
 into the effects of his system. At the end of the 
 second year, all had gone save a few of the superan 
 nuated. 
 
 " That year was remarkably unhealthy, and his 
 family were exceedingly sickly. Ultimately, he him 
 self was taken ill. His wife sent to the negro houses 
 to- request some one to attend on them. 
 
 " Latterly, the negroes' services had been grudgingly 
 and reluctantly given ; and now he and his family re 
 ceived nothing but impertinence and insult, and an ab 
 solute refusal to assist them. What a commentary on 
 the pretended gratitude of the negro ! Servants who 
 had been raised by her father refused to wait upon the 
 child in helpless illness. Servants who had been freed 
 from bondage, and put upon terms of equality with the 
 whites ; and upon whose breast she had probably often, 
 when a child, been lulled to sleep. This is gratitude 
 negro gratitude. Pshaw I tell me not of it it will do 
 well enough for sickly sentimentalists to prate about 
 philanthropists who have nothing to lose and old 
 maids like Harriet Martineau to twattle about, but to 
 carry such plans into execution is insanity. No, sir, 
 God made them slaves ! slaves they have ever been 1 
 human enactments may 'declare them freemen, but they 
 ever have, and ever will be slaves to their own pecu 
 liar characteristics vices of lust and brutality. God 
 lias put his mark upon them, and He said, * Cursed 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 59 
 
 be Canaan ; a servant of servants shall he be unto his 
 brethren.' " 
 
 " Well, that settles it," cried Dr. Grant, "and I now 
 propose we return." 
 
 This being agreed to, he gave Pierre in charge of 
 Morat, with orders to return home at once. 
 
 "Slavery is a subject I seldom converse upon," said 
 Colonel Ormond. " In the first place it is too much 
 trouble, and in the next place I can not conceive any 
 benefit to be derived from it." 
 
 " I have listened to you all," laughed Dr. Grant, 
 " and heard your arguments, but there is one thing I 
 have noticed which has escaped the observations of all 
 writers on tbe history of man." 
 
 " What is this discovery ?" asked Mr. Herndon. 
 
 " You have never seen a negro who would confess 
 himself perfectly well ; or one who had not at some 
 time in his life been a horse. Ask any male negro if 
 he is well ? He will reply, ' No sir, I ain't 'zactly 
 well,' or 'I feels mighty bad.' Praise one up, tell him 
 he is a splendid hand and looks strong. He will 
 answer { Well, massa, I ain't worth much now but I 
 is seed de time when I was a 'horss.' " 
 
 A roar of laughter followed the doctor's description 
 of his discovery, and amid the merriment of boon 
 companions, they drove up to the mansion of Colonel 
 Ormond. 
 
 He insisted upon the friends remaining. Mr. Hern 
 don did so, but Dr. Grant excused himself in conse 
 quence of the indisposition of his wife. 
 
 All the remainder of the evening was spent by the 
 gentlemen in the gallery, in social "converse; and 
 when they separated, between Mr. Herndon and Hart 
 ley there existed a mutual feeling of esteem. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Leaves have their time to fall, 
 And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 
 And stars to set hut all, 
 Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh Death !" 
 
 HEMANB. 
 
 " Si Dens nobiscum, quis contra nos ?" 
 
 AN the following morning, Mr. Hartley was sitting 
 ^ in the gallery reading a newspaper. The sound 
 of horses' feet were heard ; he looked up ; it was a fine 
 looking youth of some fourteen years who alighted. 
 He saluted Mr. Hartley respectfully, and seated himself. 
 
 In a few minutes Colonel Ormond entered ; he re 
 ceived the youth kindly, and presented him to Mr. 
 Hartley, as Louis Lamotte. 
 
 "You knew we had arrived, Louis," he said, " why 
 have you not been over ?" 
 
 The boy replied in a sweet mellow voice, in which 
 a slight French accent was perceptible, " that he had 
 been paying a visit to a friend down on the coast, and 
 had just returned, but that he had rode over that 
 morning to inform him that Mr. Laufre's negro Bob 
 had died last night." 
 
 " I am truly sorry to learn that," said Colonel Or 
 mond, expressing more concern in his countenance, 
 than would have been supposed, at the simple an 
 nouncement of the death of a slave. He remained 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 61 
 
 silent a short time, and cast his glance on the youth 
 who sat by, pensive and half melancholy. Louis was 
 dressed in a light hunting-shirt of cloth, with dark 
 fringe, a pair of black pantaloons, and his feet were 
 covered with a neatly -polished boot, while a crimson 
 velvet cap was carelessly thrown on a chair by him. 
 His face was beautiful, and of that deep, subdued, ex 
 pressive beauty which lasts and makes an impression 
 on the memory. His hair was long, and hung in 
 heavy masses down his neck. His eye was dark and 
 pensive. In fact, his countenance was one which we 
 could not help believing was inspired by genius. 
 
 Colonel Ormond aroused himself, and exclaimed, 
 " Louis, the children are in the garden, I hear their 
 voices, join them." He blushed deeply as he seized 
 his cap and hastily left the gallery. 
 
 "You may remember, Mr. Hartley," he said, "that 
 yesterday it was said in our conversation, that there 
 were some few exceptions to the general rule, in regard 
 to the attachment of negroes to their masters." 
 " I remember." 
 
 " Well, here now is an example, and it is one of the 
 few instances on record, in which the African race has 
 proved faithful, and exhibited feeling. The slave 
 whom you have heard Louis name, was really faith 
 ful and true, and I have no doubt Mr. Laufre is truly 
 distressed. He was a treasure being old he was 
 exempted from any labor, and his every want grati 
 fied; he felt his master's interest and was trust 
 worthy in the extreme. The family were all strongly 
 bound to the negro by ties of real esteem. The inci 
 dent I refer to endeared him to his master for life. 
 Mr. Laufre and his wife were traveling years ago up 
 the Mississippi river ; Bob was with them. When up 
 
62 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 the stream some distance, the boat caught fire, the 
 pilot seemed to be seized with a panic, and instead of 
 running the boat on shore, he kept her in the middle 
 of the river. Ultimately wrapped in flames, she was 
 run on the foot of Ozark Island. The boat swung 
 round, and no one could reach the shore. She then 
 suddenly exploded, tearing away all the forward part 
 of the cabin. 
 
 The yawl was soon filled with terrified people, leav 
 ing in the ladies' cabin, Mr. Laufre, his wife, and Bob. 
 They were alone on that portion of the burning wreck, 
 the flames were wrapping every thing in their destruct 
 ive embrace, and there seemed nothing but certain 
 death to them. 
 
 All the boilers of the boat had exploded, a thousand 
 fragments were scattered around, and many torn and 
 mangled human beings lay about. The scene was 
 awful, and even now Mr. Laufre, when he relates the 
 circumstance, shudders. 
 
 There stood himself and his wife, and by them stood 
 Bob. Bob saw there was no other resource left, seized 
 his mistress around the waist, and plunged into the 
 water. He gallantly battled among the floating frag 
 ments, and reached the shore in safety. He returned, 
 and brought his master in the same manner. " Was 
 that not a noble deed ?" 
 
 " Oh, it was ! it was !" answered Hartley, " and did 
 he not emancipate the negro?" 
 
 " He offered to do so repeatedly, but Bob preferred 
 staying with a good and indulgent master ; he has died 
 among kind and sincere friends ; and true drops of 
 sorrow will be shed over his grave." 
 
 "Suppose," continued he, "you ride over therewith 
 me this evening." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 63 
 
 " I shall be delighted ; but there is a question 
 which I was about to ask you. Who is this youth 
 who just now left us ?" 
 
 " He is a noble fellow," answered Colonel Ormond, 
 with a smile of partiality. " He is generous, and brave, 
 truthful and honorable." 
 
 In reply to an inquiry, he continued ; " He is an or 
 phan, his parents were French immigrants, who died 
 with yellow fever, in New Orleans, when he was an 
 infant. A distant relative took him, and having no 
 children, adopted him. His parents were possessed of 
 some property ; this was placed in a safe institution, 
 and has been accumulating ever since. His guardian 
 .resides about four miles from here, and is a high-mind 
 ed, honorable gentleman ; not like the generality of 
 old Frenchmen, that hate de dam " l mericans r and inno 
 vations of all kinds. This Louis is a boy of decided 
 talent, but he is almost too fond of hunting to be a 
 good student." 
 
 " I have never seen a face with which I was more 
 pleased," said Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " You will do well to cultivate his friendship, Mr. 
 Hartley ; you will find him a valuable acquisition in 
 ' your rambles ; he understands the gentle art of venerie 
 and woodcraft. But come, let us take a ride, and when 
 we return and get our dinner, it will be time to go over 
 to see the last of poor Bob." 
 
 Louis Lamotte meanwhile sought the garden, where, 
 under the shade of a large live-oak, throwing its pro 
 tecting arms over them, he found Marie and the two 
 girls. She was sewing some light fabric, while they, 
 having thrown down the book which they had brought 
 to read, were arranging bouquets, and making garlands 
 of flowers. 
 
64 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 He came upon them suddenly ; his frank approach 
 and the exclamations of delight, with which he was 
 greeted, told plainly that he was no unwelcome or un 
 usual visitor, as indeed he was not, for many were the 
 pleasant and happy days he spent with them. 
 
 Both the- children sprang to meet him, and Marie 
 received him with a quiet and pleased smile. He was 
 soon deeply engaged in the same occupation with the 
 children, and they were at the same time delighted 
 with his affectionate efforts to please. He amused them 
 by giving a history of his late visit, and adventures, 
 but cast a shade of sorrow on the group when he men 
 tioned the death of " old Bob," whom all knew, and 
 loved. Thus in pleasant intercourse, the time passed 
 until the hour for dinner. 
 
 Old grumbling Sally, was some distance off, busy 
 over a bed of " ya,rbs" and directing the labors of a 
 lot of little negroes in weeding. She was, as usual, 
 giving full vent to her spleen. 
 
 "Now you Phillis, why don't you mind me; I neber 
 did see sich a nigger in all my born days, I tells* you 
 to pull up de pusley from out dat bed ob tansey, and 
 you goes right straight to pullin' up parsnips, hard 's 
 ever you can. De fust thing you knows I '11 bounce 
 you, nigger. You Tid, whar is you carrying dat ar 
 wheelbarrow? put it down; de Lord he knows I has 
 more trouble wid you all dan you is worth, I don't 
 know what little niggers is made fur ; for my part I 
 never could see any use in 'em, but to fret old creeturs 
 with ; Lord knows I has a monstrous hard time of it ; 
 I wish I was back in old South Calliny agin ; I link 
 de Lord will hear my prayers, and Now, Colin 
 why don't you get to work? what is you put here 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 65 
 
 for, hey ? Loo, I raly b'leve you is bin pullin' dem 
 currants." 
 
 " No, I clar I ain't, Aunt Sally" cried, the terrified 
 little wretch, " I jes tetched my finger on dat bush, and 
 dey dropped off." 
 
 " You is tellin' a lie, I know you is ; stick out your 
 tongue. Dar now, I knowed it ; you ain't ? Well I'll 
 soon see, I '11 give you a 'metic and 1 know Lkin find 
 out dat way." 
 
 " Aunt Sally, Aunt Sally !" called out some one 
 from the Quarter. 
 
 u Dar it is, agin, Aunt Sally ! Aunt Sally 1 all de 
 time. "What kin you do, widout Aunt Sally ? What 
 you want?" she exclaimed in a loud, sharp voice. 
 
 " Little Hanna done come in from de field wid de 
 fever," was the answer. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sick, of course, all de time sick ; what bus 
 iness she gittin' sick, couldent she put it off till Sun 
 day?" 
 
 " Yes, an I reckon you will put off dying till Sun 
 day some of dese times," exclaimed one of the little 
 negroes, as soon as old Sally had hobbled off. 
 
 " Be a mighty good ting if she 'd do it right away," 
 replied another. 
 
 " I'd have all dat coffee she got in her chist,'' chimed 
 in a third. 
 
 Old Sally was very strict in what she thought was her 
 duty, and she made the little darkies " toe the mark ;" 
 hence they bore her no good will. She on her part, 
 having got into a habit of grumbling, came out on all 
 occasions. She stated seriously, "Dat de fact was, ho 
 body what had little niggers round dem, to tend to 
 could go to heaven (a remark which by the way more 
 
66 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 than one accomplished Southern lady had made), cause 
 dey made folks commit a heap of sin." 
 
 But Sally was a systematic grumbler, nothing es 
 caped her. If a light drouth came on ; she would walk 
 her gallery, seize a stick and bang some innocent dog, 
 who was trying to make an honest living by picking 
 up the scraps. Then she would go to the edge of the 
 porch, cast her eye up; "Well de ting is-pinted now, 
 no rain, de garden is as dry as a ash bank, ebery ting 
 dying, de corn in de field is curling up, no corn for 
 next year, de cane is done gone, 't ain't as big as my 
 little finger, no crop dis year." She would sit do wn 
 and rock herself to and fro for some time, to work off 
 her extra spleen. Perhaps a little cloud would arise, 
 the wind change, and a distant roll of thunder be 
 heard ; she would spring off, and up would go her 
 weather eye again. Then would she smile, " Tank de 
 Lord for dat much ; I prayed hard for dat." Such a 
 getting up of chickens, gathering in of clothes, and 
 placing of water barrels. The cloud would pass oVer. 
 " Oh, I knowed it, I knowed it wan't agwine to rain, 
 jest cause it's me wants it ;" and, here in a perfect storm 
 of indignation, she would bang the door after her, and 
 retire. But let a good rain come, she would be found 
 in the garden, as busy as a bee, setting out young cab 
 bage or lettuce plants. " Here come anoder shower. 
 Oh yes, now it's began it don't know when to stop," and 
 again would she seek her cabin, to give vent to her 
 feelings. 
 
 Poor Sally ! you are only a representative of many 
 grumblers in this world, who have, by practice, re 
 duced the thing to a habit. 
 
 It was late in the evening when Colonel Ormond 
 and Mr. Hartley mounted, and rode off toward Mr. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 67 
 
 Laufre's ; but after they set out, Marie took the girls, 
 and, with Louis, again went to her favorite haunt 
 under the live-oak in the garden. They had not long 
 been there, before Pierre, learning that his master had 
 gone, came sneaking around the garden-fence, to 
 where the party were. He had in his hand a large 
 bunch of water-lily, which he declared he had brought 
 to Misses Zoe and Estelle " plum from de lake." His 
 step was still unsteady, and he was not quite over the 
 effects of his late frolic. 
 
 " Pierre, you have been drinking," exclaimed Marie, 
 as he presented himself before her. 
 
 u JSTo, I ain't, Miss Marie." 
 
 " Oh I Pierre ! Pierre ! how often have I begged 
 you not to drink so much. You don't know how bad 
 it looks in an old man like you." 
 
 " Me, Miss Marie ?" exclaimed the old scamp, in 
 apparent surprise ; " Me ? Ton my word, I ain't toch 
 a drop to-day." 
 
 " Why, you stagger, Pierre ! you are drunk !" 
 
 " Oh ! no, Miss Marie ; Pierre gettin' old : it 's 
 weakness. I was j ust gwine to ax you for a little 
 dram to keep up de circulation." 
 
 " No, Pierre 1 not a drop ! You have been drinking : 
 you can not deceive me." 
 
 Pierre, well knowing that when once she refused 
 him, it was useless to press the matter, walked off 
 slowly, until he got beyond the garden-gate, when he 
 boldly and briskly stepped up to the gallery, which 
 Robert was just then sweeping out. "Bobl Bob!" 
 said Pierre, " wake up, horse-fly, and gib dis old nig 
 ger a dram." 
 
 "No, you don't, old boy." 
 
 " Miss Marie sent me." 
 
68 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " You don't catcTi dis here nigger dis week," replied 
 Bob, grinning; -"an' you don't get no dram from 
 me." 
 
 "Look here, nigger! I'll go call Miss Marie, and 
 she '11 make you mind. She sent me, sah ! Do you 
 tink I 'd a come 'dout she sent me ? Don't you see 
 how wet I is bin me what 's just saved the life of a 
 fello w-cretur . ' ' 
 
 " Now, dat 's good ! You, Pierre ? you save his 
 life ?" 
 
 "Yes, sah ! One of Mr. Le Baron's boys fell into 
 de lake, and I jump in jest as he was a-drownin', and 
 pull him out. Dat 's how, sah !" 
 
 Bob looked at him in admiration, and then said, 
 " Well, I declar ! but is you sure Miss Marie telled 
 you to come to me for a dram ?" 
 
 " Yes, sah ! dident I tell you so ? Jest call her, and 
 ax her, sah, and see if I ain't tellin' you de truth." 
 
 Bob was satisfied, and brought out a stiff drink of 
 brandy, which Pierre at once disposed of. 
 
 " Well, now," muttered he to himself, as he walked 
 off, " dat's what I call policy. I walked into dat nig- 
 gar's feelings good ! Well, I is a great nigger, sure I" 
 and, with this consolatory reflection, he turned into 
 the Quarter-yard to his house, to sleep off the fatigues 
 of the day. 
 
 In the mean time, Colonel Ormond and his guest 
 were wending their way to Mr. Laufre's. The house 
 was situated on the river-bank. Upon riding up to 
 the gate, and entering the yard, Mr. Laufre, a portly, 
 handsome, middle-aged gentleman, met them. He 
 conducted them into the gallery, where seats were 
 already placed. The gallery is an all-important por 
 tion of the house in the South ; and no where is more 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 69 
 
 time spent in them, or are they more valued than on 
 the Louisiana coast. 
 
 Mr. Hartley was presented. 
 
 " Ah ! Colonel Ormond, welcome to you and your 
 friend. I am glad to see you." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Laufre," observed Colonel Ormond, "I 
 am sorry that you have been so unfortunate as to lose 
 poor Bob." 
 
 " Ah ! sir, do not mention it. I would sooner have 
 lost half-a-dozen of my best hands. Not for his in 
 trinsic worth, but because, gentlemen, he was a faith 
 ful fellow. He was raised up with me, had been my 
 playmate in childhood, and my companion in later 
 years ; and, in truth, I felt for him almost the affec 
 tion of a brother. He felt that my interest, and my 
 honor, was as dear to him as to myself; and then, you 
 know that he risked his life to save mine." 
 
 " I have known Bob for a number of years, and 
 have always respected him." 
 
 " Ah ! Colonel, he was not like a common negro ; 
 he had the soul of a white man. But I must not re 
 pine. I was with him until he died, and, if there ever 
 was a Christian, he was one. I am much distressed." 
 
 The same air of sorrow showed itself upon the faces 
 of the whole family ; and, beyond courteous expres 
 sions of welcome and kindness, not a word was spoken 
 at the supper -table. 
 
 Bob, as we have seen, was really beloved by the 
 family ; and nothing which could contribute to his 
 comfort or happiness was refused. He had long ceased 
 labor, not on account of age, but infirmity ; but^still 
 he kept an eye to his master's interests. The little 
 negroes would ever pretend to be industrious when 
 he happened to cast his eye on them. Many a fence- 
 
70 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 rail was saved from destruction by the stern counte 
 nance of old Bob, who always came just at the mo 
 ment ; and often it was that a few minutes' work on 
 the levee by stuffing moss in a craw -fish hole, saved 
 manx days' labor in the end. He knew all the hogs 
 by name, and could tell in a moment if a pig had dis 
 appeared the previous night. He could be seen any 
 warm day in summer, fishing for shrimps, mending 
 his nets, or rootmg out a big weed along the fence. 
 He was a declared enemy to all kinds of vermin ; and 
 polecats, minxes, and coons, were his abhorrence. 
 But poor Bob grew weaker, his step was tottering and 
 feeble, and the time came for him to lie down and die. 
 The summons came, and found Bob ready. To Mrs. 
 Laufre's question, " Are you afraid to die, Bob ?" he 
 replied, " Oh ! no, missus ! Bob ain't afeered to die. 
 I is tried to do my duty, and I puts my trust in de 
 goodness of de Lord." 
 
 Bob died, peacefully and calmly ; his master stood 
 by him, and he smiled and breathed his last sigh, say 
 ing, " God bless you, massa 1" 
 
 A hum of gathering voices announced that the ne 
 groes were assembling in Bob's cabin, to hold their 
 simpler funeral rites. Mr. Laufre requested the gentle 
 men to accompany him into the Quarter. They paused 
 on the levee awhile, to allow the negroes to gather. 
 The buzz of voices informed them that they were 
 gathering ; and the three gentlemen now turned their 
 course thitherward. 
 
 As they neared the cabin, they could hear the 
 sobs of grief, and low murmurs ' of mourners, which 
 were more expressive than the sorrow of hired sympa 
 thy at aristocratic funerals. 
 
 They entered. There were assembled some hun- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 71 
 
 dred negroes, of all ages and sexes, from the hoary 
 patriarch to the giddy child. 
 
 In the center of the house, on a bench, stood the 
 coffin, incasing the remains of old Bob. There were 
 candles burning on and near the coffin, and simple 
 refreshments on a table in a corner. They were chant 
 ing a low, mournful hymn ; and, as soon as their mas 
 ter entered with his friends, they all arose, but con 
 tinued the song. One of the older- negroes handed 
 some chairs, which were placed near the door. 
 
 As soon as the hymn was over, the officiating negro 
 preacher, of whom there is generally one, or at least 
 an elderly " class-leader," on every large plantation, 
 arose. He was a venerable old man, with hair white 
 as snow, and with a fine, pleasing expression of coun 
 tenance. A full suit of black distinguished him, as 
 also a very white neckerchief, and a stiff collar. He 
 commenced with a fervent and impassioned prayer, 
 in which, although not much acquaintance with gram 
 mar was displayed, a deep and sincere 'earnestness was 
 perceptible. He thanked the Almighty that, although 
 one brother was gathered, like a ripe sheaf, still they 
 were spared. He thanked Him for all His mercies, 
 and asked a blessing on their labors. For his dear 
 master, mistress, and children, he asked the choicest 
 blessings of Heaven. 
 
 After the prayer, another hymn was sung, the re 
 frain of which was : 
 
 
 11 Happy soul, thy days are ended, 
 All thy mourning days below ; 
 Go, by angel-guards attended, 
 To the sight of Jesus go." 
 
 Again he arose, and in a solemn manner spoke of 
 the occasion which drew them together. " My 
 
72 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 friends," lie said, " we have 'sembled here to-night to 
 pay de last tribute to our departed brother. A few 
 days ago, he was alive and strong, and with us, and 
 now he is treadin' them unknown shores beyond de 
 grave. Ah ! my friends, he was prepared to go, he 
 told his missus he wasent afeard to die, an' go home 
 to Jesus. Oh ! be you ready likewise, for you know 
 not ' when de bridegroom cometh.' Attend to de in 
 terests of your immortal souls ; cast your eyes to de 
 things of another world, where sorrow and sadness 
 don't come. How vain and fleeting, my friends, is 
 all de things of dis life compared with 'ternity. Oh ! 
 then, lay up your treasures above, and put your 
 'pendence in Jesus' love." 
 
 In this style he went on for half an hour. At length 
 he drew to " a close. He ended by a handsome 
 eulogy upon poor Bob, and begged his hearers to. 
 imitate his example and follow him to the happy 
 land. * 
 
 During all this time, the assembly were dissolved in 
 tears, and at times, when he grew eloquent and ex 
 cited, the agitation was great among them, and the 
 broken exclamations of " Amen 1" " Bless de Lord I" 
 "Gone to heaven, sure I" " De good old creturl" 
 " Lord, save us !" were often heard. 
 
 Another prayer, which called forth more cries and 
 tears, more groans, and even misplaced and sometimes 
 ludicrous sentences, was made. 
 
 Hartley caught himself, more than once, smiling, 
 and then^.the next minute, he experienced a strange 
 feeling of choking and a watery suffusion of the eyes. 
 
 At last it was over, and several of the men went 
 out, and got torches of pine, or light wood, as it is 
 termed, which had been obtained from some steam- 
 
THE CHEQUE ORPHANS. . 73 
 
 boat by the negroes, for the purpose of kindling iires. 
 The top of the coffin was now raised for the last time, 
 that all might get a parting look at poor Bob. Mr. 
 Laufre arose and went to it. He gazed at the corpse 
 a few moments amid the most profound silence. Two 
 great tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 " Poor old fellow !" he exclaimed ; " friend of my 
 boyhood ! you are in peace ! your journey is over. 
 My people," he continued, looking around earnestly, 
 " behold the end of a faithful servant. All of you 
 have known Bob for years ; you have never known 
 him guilty of a mean action. He was ever mild and 
 humane. His whole life has been one of unceasing de 
 votion to his master, and his end was as peaceful as the 
 setting sun. He gained the love of ajl, and his mas 
 ter is as grieved at his loss as at that of a white 
 friend. Take example from him. Bob died a Chris 
 tian ; he breathed his last in his master's arms." He 
 finished, and, pressing the cold,* hard hand, turned 
 away to hide his emotion. The tears and expressions 
 of grief were redoubled, and many a blessing for their 
 kind master was mingled with those drops. 
 
 From one end of the room arose a little old negro. 
 He was a kind of opposition preacher, who seemed 
 determined, even at the last moment, to have a say-so 
 in the matter. All the evening, his brightness had 
 been dimmed by the other preacher, and all he could 
 do was to groan and blubber like the " common nig 
 gers," and in concert with them ; but now, seeing a 
 chance to slip in a word, he arose. He Hfes a negro, 
 who had been recently brought from the piney woods, 
 and he determined that no coast nigger should outdo 
 him. He beganj 
 
 " My beloved friends, you is all heerd what master 
 
74 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 is said, and lie speaks de truth, de Lord knows. "We 
 all must 'member Ms words, and try and do every thing 
 what he wants us. Poor old Bob is gone where he 
 can't get back ; but if his sperit is 'lowed to look 
 down on this meeting, he is mightily pleased. Let us 
 sing a hymn while de brethren makes de final 'range- 
 ments." He then struck up a doleful, melancholy tune 
 to the following words : 
 
 " Old Satan is like a howling dog, 
 
 He throwed blocks in my way ; 
 Jesus was my bosom friend, 
 And he cast dem all away. 
 
 Oh Lord, remember me, 
 Remember Calvary I 
 And while you is a 'meinbrin' round, 
 ' . Oh Lord, remember me. 
 
 "As I was a lyin' on my bed, 
 
 A making my cries to de Lord ; 
 He come and eased my akin' head, 
 Wid de sweetness of his word. 
 Oh Lord, remember me, 
 Remember, etc. 
 
 " You need not crave for richness, 
 You need n't to dress so fine, 
 The crown that my Lord gib to me, 
 The sun can't neber outshine. 
 Oh Lord, remember me, 
 Remember," etc. 
 
 Both Colonel Ormond and Hartley were half-inclined 
 to laugh, as irreverent as it was, at .this serio-comic 
 song ; but the negroes felt the inspiration, and entered 
 into it wrtiPspirit, it being one of their own songs, the 
 time, measure and words suiting them exactly ; and, 
 indeed, it would be hard to induce them to believe the 
 song was not truly orthodox, and one of the Church 
 collection. 
 
THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 75 
 
 Mr. Laufre made a sign to Colonel Ormond, and 
 they left the cabin, proceeding to the house. 
 
 The negroes had now lit their torches, and the coffin, 
 being fastened, final arrangements were made, refresh 
 ments were handed around, and a ~busli-light, as it is 
 called, was kindled before the cabin. This is a super 
 stition of the negroes, and, probably, derived from the 
 remnant of some old custom in Africa. It is four 
 small forks set in the ground, with cross pieces put on 
 them, covered with earth ; the fat pine is then kindled, 
 and constantly replenished. The superstition is, that 
 the soul of the departed continues hovering over 
 the remains until it is finally laid in the earth, and it 
 then takes its flight. The light is for the purpose of 
 allowing the spirit to have a good view of the opera 
 tions. It is called the " death fire" 
 
 The gentlemen joined the ladies of the family in 
 the gallery, whan a conversation soon commenced ; but 
 through the pauses could be heard the exhortations of 
 some of the older negroes, and the bursts of grief of 
 others, mingled with snatches of hymns, in which the 
 solemn and ludicrous were strangely blended. One, 
 which seemed to be a favorite, by the manner they all 
 joined in it, struck Hartley as peculiarly droll. It 
 ran thus 
 
 "Jesus, he died for me e, 
 Jesus, he died for you ou, 
 And he neber will die no more, 
 Oh ! Shepherd, war ar' you ou. 
 
 You promised de Lord to take care of de Lamb, 
 
 And you let one go astray. 
 
 "Yonder comes de carriage, 
 Wid'de inside filled wid love, 
 De fore-wheels runs by faith, 
 And de hind-wheels rolls by grace." 
 You promised," etc. 
 
76 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 More was sung, which lie could not hear, as the 
 torch-bearers gathered around the door ; and a mur 
 mur arose from the cabin a dead silence followed 
 there were groans and lamentations, and at length the 
 coffin appeared borne by six negro men. The sight 
 was novel and interesting the dark and swarthy 
 assembly the black coffin, with its bearers the flash 
 ing lights, casting a ruddy reflection over the whole 
 scene ; and the various expressions of sorrow which, 
 partly forced for the negro is passionately attached 
 to ceremony and pageantry and partly pure, formed 
 an exhibition that, to one of the gentlemen at least, 
 was singularly interesting. 
 
 " This, I presume, is the first thing of the kind you 
 have ever seen, Mr. Hartley," remarked Mr. Laufre. 
 
 " It is ; and I must admit it is novel to me." 
 
 11 There is much of the ludicrous in their ceremony, 
 to a refined taste, and to one who is unused to them." 
 
 " Yes ; but I imagine an affecting earnestness which 
 pleases me ; and they seem more taken with religion 
 than I ever thought." 
 
 " Why, sir, as to that, I believe I have among my 
 negroes some who are religious, as far as negro nature 
 will allow them to be, but they are very few." 
 
 " Do you allow your negroes religious instruction?" 
 
 " The condition of the negro is much meliorated in 
 that respect; formerly they never knew what it was; 
 but now, public sentiment among our planters has 
 changed ; and there is scarcely a plantation which 
 does not HRher have, on every other Sabbath, preach 
 ing to the negroes, on the place, or at a meeting-house 
 in the neighborhood." 
 
 " Do you think they are benefited ?" 
 
 " Most of them, sir, assume religion for a cloak ; 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 77 
 
 but, on the whole, we think it in many instances 
 benefits them." 
 
 " I have been informed that the negro was pur 
 posely kept in the darkest ignorance ; and that they 
 never had any privileges of this nature." 
 
 "They have religious instruction, sir ; but they 
 receive it very badly. It is not in their nature to be 
 really pious, and the best observation will bear me 
 out. You may have them gathered together and 
 preached to and prayed with you may get them to 
 shouting and yelling turn them loose, and in an hour 
 they will be found in a neighbor's hen-roost, or among 
 his young pigs. They are an incorrigible set; but 
 there are among them some good ones, just as there 
 are some bad masters. As a rule, however, you will 
 find that the planters of the South are constantly in 
 venting new plans for the melioration of the condition 
 of the slave." 
 
 Just then, the bustle of the negroes at the Quarter 
 ceased, and they at once proceeded to the grave, 
 with slow and measured step. 
 
 After an hour spent in pleasant discourse. Colonel 
 Ormond proposed riding, and, refusing a kind invi 
 tation to stay all 'night, he and his guest mounted and 
 rode off. 
 
 Few words passed between them, for both were 
 busy with their own thoughts. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " A man can smile and smile, and be a villain." 
 
 Servant. " There be a gentleman at the door come to see your honor." 
 Joconde. " Yes ; well, what is he like ? yet stay, show him in." 
 
 UNPTJB. DRAMA. 
 
 WHEN" Colonel Ormond and Mr. Hartley reached 
 home, they were informed that a stranger had 
 arrived in the evening, but, as it was late, had then 
 retired. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Hartley was up early and 
 taking a walk. He bent his steps toward the Quarter. 
 In her gallery old Sally stood washing some common 
 crockery before getting breakfast for the children and 
 sick. She was humming a doleful kind of tune when 
 Mr. Hartley came up. 
 
 "Well, aunty," he said, "how do you find yourself 
 this morning?" 
 
 "Sarvant, sir," she replied, courtesying very low ; 
 " bless de Lord I finds myself toleble well, 'cept a pain 
 in de back, an a little pain in de head, an a mighty 
 misery in my side." 
 
 "Well; it appears to me," said he, laughing, "that 
 you must be be toldbly bad off with all those pains." 
 
 " Yes, sir, tank God I is right bad off, but it can't 
 be 'spected to be any better, for I is a old cretur and 
 has a heap to do." 
 
 " I suppose you have a great deal depending on 
 you." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 79 
 
 " Dat 's de solemn truth sir ; I has more to do an any 
 nigger on dis place. Master 's promised time and agin 
 to put somebody to help me, but nobody ever thinks 
 of de poor ole nigger 'cept when dey wants 'em to do 
 somethin." 
 
 " What do you have to do ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, I has to tend in de hospital, and to de 
 little niggers, and a heap ob oder things." 
 
 "You appear to have plenty of time though." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir ! I has time to set down and rest, and 
 I has old Aunt Dinah and Cinta to help me 'casionally 
 when I wants 'em, for dey don't do nothin' 'cept lay up 
 an grumble." 
 
 " You never grumble, Aunt Sally?" 
 
 "No, sir, I doesent; 't ain't right." 
 
 Hartley laughed outright. , " Were you born in this 
 country ?" 
 
 " No, sir, thank God I ain't no gray owl* nigger, I 
 come from old South Calliny, I did." 
 
 "I suppose you don't like this country as much as 
 you did ole South Calliny?" 
 
 "Lord, no, sir! It'satoleble good country for 
 some things and mighty bad for tothers. Ole South 
 Calliny is a long ways head of dis country, dere ain't 
 no meetsketurs dar, and dere ain't no lightood here, 
 dat 's de only 'jection to it." 
 
 " What is lightood, Aunt Sally ?" 
 
 "Why, sir, don't know what lightood is? it's pine, 
 fat pine, dat 's what 't is." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Well, are you a member of the 
 church?" 
 
 " Is you a preacher, sir ?" answered she looking at 
 him in a quizzical manner. 
 
 * Creole. 
 
80 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " No," he answered laughing, " I am not, I wish I 
 was." 
 
 "Well, no, I ain't in de church, and I don't want to 
 be, for dere is more debilment carried on by dem what 
 is in de church dan you knows on." 
 
 " Aunt Sally you ought to join the church, it makes 
 people better." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha," laughed she. " Why massa, you 
 makes me laugh; de very niggers what makes de 
 mo'st fuss 'bout 'ligion is de very ones what ain't 
 got no more 'ligion dan a terripin ; dey rolls dey eyes 
 up, but all de time dey is thinking of some debilment, 
 and what dey kin steal ; no sir, dey puts on 'ligion 
 like a nigger puts on a blanket to hide de dirt." 
 
 " Pierre belongs to the church, I believe?" 
 
 "Pierre, Pierre? ha, ha! he Zambo nigger; Zambo 
 ain't got no soul ; and all de preaching Mr. Hickory- 
 bottom do, ain't goin' to make him no better." 
 
 "Who is Mr. Hickory bottom?" 
 
 "He is our preacher, a mighty good man, larns de 
 little niggers dey catakiz, and preach twice a month, 
 but it don't do 'em any good." 
 
 " Well, Aunt Sally, here is half a dollar to buy you 
 a new handkerchief to go to meeting in." 
 
 The old woman eagerly clutched the money, and 
 amid a profusion of thanks he turned away. 
 
 When Colonel Ormond arose in the morning he 
 found a card on his dressing-table bearing the name 
 of "Daniel Talbot, Boston." He rung the bell and 
 Eobert appeared. 
 
 " How came this here ?" he asked. 
 
 " The strange gentleman, sir, that came here last 
 night, gave it to me, sir." 
 
 "When?" 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 81 
 
 "Last night, sir." 
 "Hem! where is he ?" 
 " In the parlor, sir, waiting for you." 
 " Very well, go and see that there is a fire in the 
 room, and some late newspapers." 
 
 
 " Talbot ! Talbot," he exclaimed, as he gazed in an 
 absent manner at the card which he held in his hand. 
 " "Where have I heard that name ? It sounds familiar I 
 By my soul, it can not be that he is one of the Talbots 
 of Connecticut, one of our connections. Let me see, 
 Talbot married a relation of ours ; he was from New 
 England." 
 
 He arranged his toilet and descended the steps to the 
 parlor. 
 
 A young man of middle height, apparently of about 
 twenty -six years, dressed in black, was leaning over a 
 table attentively examining some prints. He arose 
 when Colonel Ormond entered, and advanced 
 
 a You have my card, Colonel Ormond, I presume." 
 
 tl Mr. Talbot, I am happy to know you, sir, and if 
 I am not mistaken, you are a family connection." 
 
 "Even a relation, colonel," he replied smiling, "for I 
 am the son of a relation on the maternal side, and may 
 be called a cousin." 
 
 " As you are the first one whom I have ever known, 
 I shall be pleased to own the relationship. But have 
 we any other relations in Boston ? 
 
 " None, nor in Connecticut ; I believe I am the only 
 one." 
 
 " How did you become aware of my residence ?" 
 
 " "Well, you must know that there is -an old lady in 
 New York State, who is a connection of my mother's ; 
 I called on her, as I was on business, and she gave me 
 
82 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 a history of our whole family. I took down your ad 
 dress, and when I left Boston, a friend gave me a let 
 ter to a young man, who is a clerk in New Orleans. 
 I presented my letter, and expressed my wishes ; he 
 consulted a kind of directory, and we found your resi 
 dence in the city ; your agent told us where the plant 
 ation was." 
 
 " You have exhibited a good deal of tact, for a 
 stranger," said Colonel Ormond. 
 
 " You forget that I am a Yankee," replied he laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, I am glad you have done so, the more as 
 you are the first of my relations who has ever been to 
 the South. When did you arrive in New Orleans?" 
 
 " A week ago, sir ; I would have sought you out 
 sooner, but I occupied myself in seeking for a situa 
 tion." 
 
 " You have then, no settled business, Mr. Talbot ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I was engaged in the dry goods business in 
 Boston, but was unfortunate." 
 
 1 ' The fate of many ; but I think you will find no 
 difficulty in obtaining business in the city." 
 
 Here a servant entered and called Colonel Ormond 
 out to attend to something, and Mr. Talbot was left 
 alone. He sat awhile, and then timidly glanced 
 around. 
 
 " A pretty fine old cock," he said in a low voice, 
 " and seems to be a good liver ; I wonder if he has got 
 any family ; I must look sharp, and act mighty polish 
 ed." 
 
 Colonel Ormond entered the room just afterward, 
 and, as he drew up his chair, remarked w Mr. Talbot, 
 as you have not engaged in any business yet, I may be 
 of service to you ; at any rate, you will remain with us 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 83 
 
 until you do engage in something, for we of the South 
 pride ourselves on our hospitality." 
 
 " Colonel, you are too kind/' remarked he, in an af 
 fected tone. 
 
 "I beg you will not think so, sir." 
 
 "Where did you leave your baggage? "he added, 
 rising. 
 
 " I left it at the little town below here, where I 
 landed." 
 
 " I will send a servant after it." 
 
 As Ormond passed through the library he found 
 Marie in tears. He started back in astonishment, 
 "Why, Marie, what is the cause of these tears? 
 Speak!" he approached and spoke kindly to her. 
 
 " Oh, Charles," she answered, raising her head, and 
 looking earnestly on him through her tears "For 
 give me, I am foolish, I feel unhappy this morning, 
 but the arrival of this stranger from the North, and, 
 old Celeste's prophecy." The same idea at that moment 
 struck Colonel Ormond, and he started as if stung by 
 some reptile ; but, instantly recovering himself, he con 
 tinued : " Nay, Marie, this is very childish, this arri 
 val of a mere youth, has no connection with that 
 stuff. Come, Marie, remember that he is a relative, 
 and I must insist that you treat him with respect." 
 
 " Charles, you well know that your will is my law ; 
 I have no doubt but I am wrong, but I can not help 
 feeling sometimes that there is a sad future for us." 
 
 " Do not give way to those fancies, Marie ; they are 
 dangerous, remember ; there is a good and kind Being 
 above, who watches over us all ; trust in Him." 
 
 " You are right, Charles, you have taught me a les- 
 
84 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "There, my Marie," he answered, drawing her to 
 ward him, and her beautiful head falling on his bosom ; 
 "come, don yourself in your most splendid robe, 
 deck yourself in jewels, and come forth, in a blaze of 
 beauty, to astonish, and dazzle his cold Northern im 
 agination." She looked up fondly, and smiled at this 
 sally, while he pressed her ripe red lips, gazed on her 
 in admiration, and drank in her beauty. He then call 
 ed Pierre, and ordered him to go for the baggage of 
 Mr. Talbot. 
 
 "When Talbot found himself alone, he arose, and a 
 pleased expression passed over his features ; he glanced 
 at a pier glass, which reflected his whole figure, and 
 then stretched himself. 
 
 " Well," he said " this is a streak of luck sure, to find 
 a good kind relative, and a nice comfortable home, all 
 at once. This is better than standing behind a counter 
 selling pins and tape, at fifteen dollars a month ; he 
 looks like a jolly old fellow, and seems to have plenty 
 of negroes ; I wonder how much he is worth. 
 
 " And there," he continued, walking to the window, 
 "there's the sugar-house, and the sugar-cane being 
 made into sugar. I heard of a poor fellow once, who 
 threw down his ox- whip, as the first steamboat passed 
 down the river. c By gosh, I'll have one of them things 
 if it costs me fifty dollars.' Now, like that fellow, I '11 
 have one of them things, if it costs me my life. How 
 grand it must make a man feel, to look around, and 
 know that all he sees is his. Well, I will play the 
 moral good boy, and see what can be made out of it." 
 
 With' this worthy determination, he walked up and 
 down the room, and ruminated on the prospects which 
 seemed to be opening on him. Some twenty minutes 
 passed in this manner, when Colonel Ormond again 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 85 
 
 entered the room. He drew up a chair to the fire, and 
 the two were soon engaged in a desultory conversation, 
 which lasted until breakfast. During the first moments 
 of their acquaintance, Ormond did not have leisure to 
 mark individual peculiarities, as they presented them 
 selves, or to give his guest so attentive a scrutiny as 
 now. 
 
 In person, as we have said, Talbot was of medium 
 height, his face was long, and rather wide at the angle 
 of the jaws. His eyes were deeply set in their orbits, 
 and of a light gray. The lips were thin, and drawn 
 tightly around the teeth, which were white, even and 
 brilliant, and were exhibited in laughing and speak 
 ing. The chin was sharp and peaked and thin, the 
 neck long and slim. His hair was a light brown and 
 worn short. There was a restlessness, an uneasy 
 wandering of the eyes, an aversion to meet a fair and 
 honest gaze, and while Colonel Ormond was easy and 
 self-possessed, he appeared as if ill at ease. He had a 
 look of intelligence and conversed well, but it was a 
 kind of low, hang-dog, sneaking intelligence, a kind of 
 prudent, careful weighing out of words, as if cautious 
 of committing himself; as if all his actions were gov 
 erned by a hidden movement, a powerful but concealed 
 spring. 
 
 To one who was suspicious, those restless eyes and 
 twitching hands, the puckered lips and cautious speech, 
 would have afforded matter for speculation ; but Colo 
 nel Ormond was all honor, and never dreamed of the 
 true character of the viper he was about to nestle in 
 his bosom. He little dreamed that the demon, which 
 ruled the soul of his guest, was avarice. Born and 
 raised in a circle which was far below independence, 
 he had looked up to the wealthy as great and happy 
 
86 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 beings in a different sphere. He acted accordingly. 
 To his superiors, he was a sneaking and submissive 
 slave, a fawning hypocrite ; to his inferiors, he was 
 haughty and imperious, heartless and cruel. 
 
 He had intelligence enough, though, to conceal the 
 failings which he was conscious of possessing. He 
 even sometimes tried to subdue them. He had some 
 accomplishments, and quite a good education ; he drew 
 very well and played the flute. He also had a good 
 mechanical turn, and had made many friends among 
 the children, by the dexterity with which he used his 
 knife in carving curious things in wood. But he 
 lacked a high and manly principle, did not observe 
 the truth, and, in regard to honor, he could not com 
 prehend the term, he could use the word in its right 
 place, speak volubly about it and assume an ingenuous 
 air ; but the conception of the principle was beyond 
 his power. 
 
 As Colonel Ormond surveyed the countenance' of 
 his guest, he experienced a strange, unaccountable feel 
 ing of shrinking and repugnance, as if he had touched 
 a venomous reptile, and he almost repented the hasty 
 invitation he had given ; but when he reflected a mo 
 ment, he felt half ashamed of these emotions, and 
 reasoned with himself that he saw through a dis 
 torted medium, that he was prejudiced, and he even 
 hastened to make up by kindness his want of generos 
 ity. But, although he endeavored to conquer his prej 
 udices, still he could not hide from himself the fact 
 that he did not like his kinsman. 
 
 Talbot, on the other hand, cast furtive glances at 
 his companion, for he could not bear the calm, steady, 
 placid look of Colonel Ormond. He did not dislike 
 him, but he felt humbled by the contrast; and a 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 87 
 
 species of malicious envy sprang up in his breast, as 
 he thought of the vast difference between them in the 
 scale of social being, and of the supposed wealth and 
 importance of his host ; and he expressed a mental 
 wish that he might profit by the connection. Talbot 
 was possessed of a deep and shrewd cunning, and hid 
 within his own bosom his evil thoughts and feelings. 
 
 Breakfast was now announced, and Mr. Hartley came 
 in. Talbot was presented as a relative by Colonel 
 Ormond. 
 
 Hartley was a far-seeing man, and instinctively dis 
 liked Talbot from the first, and imagined that he saw 
 in the workings of his countenance the symptoms of 
 a debased and double-dealing mind. But these fancies 
 he suppressed in their birth, for he was a high-bred 
 gentleman. 
 
 The three breakfasted alone ; in fact, Ormond wag 
 embarrassed in what manner to present Marie to him. 
 As his wife, he could not, for he loathed deception, 
 and he shrunk from stating in broad terms their con 
 nection and Marie's condition. He loved her with de 
 votion, and she deserved it, and he now more than 
 ever regretted the procrastination of a necessary step, 
 in regard to her, which he knew sooner or later must 
 be taken. 
 
 Hartley had never been regularly presented to her, 
 but his own observation and good sense made him 
 comprehend in a short time how matters stood ; he 
 saw that she was gloriously beautiful, and wondered 
 why Colonel Ormond did not publicly acknowledge 
 her as his wife, but he kept those thoughts to himself. 
 He had been enlightened by Dr. Grant, who, jealous 
 of the honor of his friend, in a delicate manner hinted 
 
88 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 at it. Hartley understood him, and when he did meet 
 her, it was with profound respect. 
 
 Marie often took her meals in her own room, and it 
 caused no surprise that she did not appear on this 
 morning. 
 
 Talbot was advised by Colonel Ormond to ride over 
 and superintend the removal of his baggage himself. 
 
 An hour after breakfast he was sitting on the gallery 
 indulging in his cigar, when Dr. Grant rode up. He 
 was glad of it, for Colonel Ormond had ridden a por 
 tion of the way with Talbot, and he was entirely 
 alone. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hartley," he exclaimed familiarly, as 
 he threw his bridle over a picket, "how are you this 
 morning ? I thought I would ride over, see you all, 
 and chat a while. But who is that gander-shanked 
 chap who is going along the road with Ormond? I 
 saw them as I came through the field." 
 
 " Oh, he is a relative ; a fresh Yankee just caught." 
 
 "Phew!" whistled the doctor. "Well they do 
 make some queer ones up there sure, and I don't like 
 his looks certainly." 
 
 " Nor do I ; but it would scarcely become me to say 
 it." 
 
 "What is he doing here ?" 
 
 " God knows ; I came in this morning, and he was in 
 the parlor ; he may have sprung from the ground, but 
 I think he has just arrived from the North." 
 
 " Well, I- never knew before that Ormond ever had 
 any relatives." 
 
 " Doctor, you do not look as well as you did, when I 
 last saw you." 
 
 " It is anxiety, Mr. Hartley," he answered, becoming 
 grave. " The health of my wife is bad ; indeed, I am 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 89 
 
 afraid it is declining daily ; she has a very severe pain 
 in her chest, and a cough ; consumption is hereditary." 
 
 " I hope your anxiety has exaggerated her disease." 
 
 " God grant that it may, Mr. Hartley ; but I have 
 serious thoughts of going to Havana for her health." 
 He paused a while, and silently meditated, then* sud 
 denly exclaimed : " How long do you remain with us, 
 Mr. Hartley?" 
 
 "I fear doctor that my stay is limited ; I came here, 
 a perfect stranger, at the invitation of Colonel Ormond, 
 and I am only allowing time to receive replies to my 
 letters on business ; but, doctor, go where I may, I never 
 shall forget the noble kindness and courtesy, I have 
 received at his hands. He is all that a man could 
 wish to be." 
 
 " I fully agree with you, Mr. Hartley, and, I appre 
 ciate as fully as you, the excellence of our friend ; but, 
 by the way," he added, "what a pity it is, that he is 
 placed in such a situation in regard to a woman every 
 way worthy to become his wife!" 
 
 " Why is it that he hesitates in the matter ?" 
 
 " Simply shame, dislike to give eclat to the fact that 
 she is not his wife, and still a slave." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, and more the shame ; I have reasoned with 
 him about it, and he has promised me that he will very 
 soon carry it into effect, but alas ! this Southern failing, 
 procrastination. But Mr. Hartley, I am sorry you are 
 thinking of going so soon ; I was in hopes of having 
 you with us for some time." 
 
 " I thank you, doctor ; but it is important that I re 
 turn North soon ; I am settling up my own affairs, and 
 it is probable that I may return, and live permanently 
 
90 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 in the South ; I find the winters at the North are too 
 severe for me." 
 
 " Yes, and the manners and customs, also." 
 
 " Oh, you forget that I am a native of the North." 
 
 " Ay, but you take to the South, naturally." 
 
 " I like it extremely, I admit." 
 
 " To return to Ormond," said the doctor, lowering 
 his voice, " you see what a very disagreeable situation 
 it places him in." 
 
 " It certainly does." 
 
 "And she is so handsome, and good, and so accom 
 plished. You have conversed with her?" 
 
 " Seldom ; but I perceive she is educated." 
 
 " In point of beauty, she excels any thing I ever 
 saw ; her countenance is so expressive, and Madonna- 
 like, so pensive and sweet." 
 
 " Well it is a great pity. Here is a noble, whole-souled 
 fellow, he loves a woman who is as beautiful as a houri, 
 and as good as an angel ; and still he can't present 
 her as his wife, when she would be well received in any 
 society. Here she is without company, and must be 
 ennuied to death." 
 
 " And they have two as beautiful children as I ever 
 saw." 
 
 " Ormond is not really ashamed to acknowledge her ; 
 for matches of this kind are common in the "West In 
 dies, and even in this State ; she is fair too. 
 
 " I admire that peculiar rich tint ; it shows a warm, 
 and generous blood. She is a Creole, is she not ?" 
 
 " A Creole !" laughed the doctor. " You Northern 
 people always commit an error about that. You think 
 a Creole is a Mulatto, but of a very light color ?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly, is it not so ?" 
 
 " No, a Creole is a mere term taken from the Span- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 91 
 
 ish, meaning a native descended from European ances 
 tors. Now some would suppose her a Quadroon, 
 which is seven eighths white and one eighth black ; but 
 she is not. She is a Quinteroon, fifteen sixteenths 
 white, and one sixteenth black. There are many such 
 in our State, and no one even thinks of casting a re 
 proach on them." 
 
 " Well, she is a dignified lady, and would do honor 
 to any circle." 
 
 " My sentiments exactly ; but I understand you were 
 over at Laufre's, at Bob's funeral?" 
 
 " Yes, Colonel Ormond and I rode over." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hartley, let us walk." 
 
 Accordingly, they sauntered out, and slowly walked 
 to the river. As they reached the bank, Louis La- 
 motte rode up. He leaped from his horse with grace, 
 and came forward, saluting them both. He was a great 
 favorite with the doctor, who replied to him kindly. 
 He had a string of snipe, which he had shot that morn 
 ing, to present to Marie. After a few words, he left 
 them for more pleasant society, and the gentlemen con 
 tinued their walk. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Yet had he friends 
 
 And they went forth to cheer him on his way." 
 
 H. 
 
 AFTEK dinner, Colonel Ormond requested Dr. Grant 
 to walk with. him. They went into the garden, 
 and in a sheltered nook surrounded by arbores-vitse, 
 they seated themselves. 
 
 " Doctor," he said, with hesitation, " I fear you will 
 think me a great fool ; but I have placed myself in a 
 ridiculous position." The doctor remained silent, for 
 he knew what was coming. " The fact is I have been 
 a fool," resumed he, after waiting a moment to see if 
 the doctor would speak. " I have extended an invi 
 tation to a. young man who comes from the North, 
 and claims to be a kinsman, without taking into con 
 sideration the situation I occupy in regard to Marie. 
 Now, doctor, we have been fast friends for a number 
 of years, and I feel that I can unbosom myself to you : 
 I owe justice to her." 
 
 "You do, Ormond, you do/' replied he earnestly, 
 " and it is a shame on your manhood that you have 
 not long ago consummated your union; the -sooner 
 you have this long-retarded justice done the better; I 
 speak plainly, and use the language of a friend, Or 
 mond." 
 
 " That is as it should be, doctor, but you well know 
 that my delay has been caused by " 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 93 
 
 " Your old habit of procrastination ; why, Ormond, 
 if you did not have an overseer, your plantation would 
 not bring you in seed corn ; you take things too easy, 
 and defer what you should attend to ; it is indolence 
 and a reluctance to blazon forth this matter." 
 
 " Doctor, you have judged me rightly in this matter, 
 and I see I must, I must attend to it." 
 
 "Do it for your own sake, Ormond ; do it for hers ; 
 for your children ; make them legitimate." 
 
 " I am a blind fool and an idiot 1" passionately ex 
 claimed Ormond, who, although generally calm, was, 
 when aroused, of a hurricane mood. "But, doctor, 
 this fellow Talbot it is necessary as long as he remains 
 here, that he should sometimes meet her, and then 
 you know the negroes the truth will out." 
 
 "I understand you," said the doctor, "and I agree 
 with you, it is much better that the truth should be 
 told him. I will undertake the matter if he does not 
 already know it." 
 
 " I leave it to you, doctor." 
 
 " I will attend to it." 
 
 "I thank you; I do not know why it is, but to this 
 person I have taken a slight dislike, an aversion. I 
 am ashamed to own it, but there is a something about 
 him which I can not fathom. He appears amiable 
 enough, and tolerably intelligent, but there is a dull, 
 restless motion in his eyes ; withdraw your attention, 
 and he is gazing at you with a dark and subtle mean- 
 ing." 
 
 " You have explained the feelings of Mr. Hartley, 
 but as for me I don't attach so much importance to 
 this sans pareitte of yours. He is a raw Yankee boy, 
 with a very disagreeable countenance. But, Ormond, 
 there is this thing to be taken into consideration. If 
 
94 THECEEOLEOKPHANS. 
 
 he is now an unimportant individual, he may come 
 in as your heir." 
 
 "How do you mean that?" answered Colonel Or- 
 mond, with a puzzled look. 
 
 " Simply this, Ormond. You are possessed of valua 
 ble property ; you die; your wife and children are not 
 emancipated. She is a slave ; your children are illegiti 
 mate. They can not, according to the laws of Louisiana, 
 become your heirs. The property consequently goes to the 
 nearest collateral heir. Who is he ? He is here ! Will 
 you hesitate longer now ?" 
 
 " Good Heavens ! doctor, to what an awful precipice 
 you have dragged me; what a horrid picture you 
 have drawn!" 
 
 "Only Ormond, that you may avoid the danger, 
 and take warning from the scene I have painted." 
 
 " I can hesitate no longer," cried he, with the veins 
 on his forehead swollen, and his eyes flashing brightly. 
 " I will at once go to the city ! I will face degradation 
 and endure shame for the sake of those I love." 
 
 " Calm yourself, Ormond ! while I live your chil 
 dren have a friend, even if they have no other." 
 
 Ormond pressed his hand silently, and with the un 
 derstanding that a communication would be made to 
 Talbot, they separated. 
 
 When they met in the gallery, a cool glass of claret 
 awaited them. 
 
 "Mr. Hartley," said Colonel Ormond, "I have a let 
 ter for you;" he handed it to him. The seal was 
 broken. 
 
 "I fear now, colonel, that my visit can not be pro 
 longed at present," said he to Ormond, at the same 
 tune handing him the letter. "I have no longer an 
 excuse for tarrying." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 95 
 
 Colonel Ormond returned the letter. An inquiry 
 was now made for Talbot, but lie was nowhere to be 
 found. In a short time he came in, saying that he 
 had been taking a stroll over to the sugar-house. But 
 this was false. 
 
 About ten minutes previous to the conversation we 
 have noted as occurring in the garden, Talbot walked 
 into it, invited by the beauty of a clump of cape jes 
 samine ; he sat down on a seat placed there and fell 
 into a reverie. He had not been there long before he 
 heard the sound of voices in earnest conversation ; his 
 first impulse was to escape their observation ; but this 
 he could not do without exposing himself to the 
 charge of eaves-dropping ; and, thinking perhaps that 
 he might become possessed of some secret, kept his 
 station. Suddenly he felt an electric thrill which 
 seemed to startle every nerve in his body, and made 
 him tremble and gasp for breath. He heard the words 
 distinctly uttered by Dr. Grant. " You are possessed 
 of valuable property ; you die ; your wife and children 
 are not emancipated. She is a slave ; your children are 
 illegitimate. They can not } according to the laws of Louis 
 iana, become your heirs. The property goes to the nearest 
 collateral heir. Who is he? He is here /" 
 
 These words were heard by him. in his place of con 
 cealment, and they astounded and confused him. As 
 the poor miner, delving for years in the vast cave, is 
 bewildered and stupified by the glorious light of day 
 when suddenly seen, he was in a like manner taken 
 by surprise at the bright prospect unexpectedly opened 
 before his gaze. A light had been shed on his path, 
 and it seemed that nothing was necessary but to follow 
 it. His dreams would be realized, he would roll in 
 gold, and his ambition, the dream of years, be satisfied. 
 
96 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 The one object of his life was now to play for this 
 grand stake ; and to its successful accomplishment, he 
 determined to devote all his powers. He felt that he 
 might, ~by a certain combination of circumstances, ivithin 
 his control, be the heir! The thread of his future life 
 was spun ; he could see the end, bright and glorious. 
 
 In the evening, Dr. Grant asked him to walk. Dur 
 ing the stroll, he introduced the subject. " Mr. Talbot " 
 said he, "I think it is my duty, to prevent any painful 
 mistake on your part, to state to you the position of 
 the lady of this house ; she is not Colonel Ormond's 
 wife." This Talbot already knew, as he had pumped 
 Pierre in the morning, going to town. 
 
 "It is common in this country, and the West Indies, 
 for persons to live together as man and wife when 
 they are not really married and their union has not 
 been blessed by the church ; this is their condition." 
 
 "I am much gratified, doctor, ""said he, in an inno 
 cent manner, "that you have explained this matter to 
 me, and feel obliged to you for it." 
 
 " It is due to you, Mr. Talbot, as a relative ; you will 
 know how to treat her and the children." 
 
 " Oh, as to that, doctor, I shall treat her with all the 
 respect I would, were she his own wife really; and, 
 the children as relatives." 
 
 " By so doing you will please Ormond, and gain his 
 friendship." 
 
 It was with pain that Colonel Ormond heard the de 
 termination of Mr. Hartley expressed, of going the 
 next morning to the city, and thence returning to the 
 North ; for he had, by his gentle deportment, and ur 
 bane manners, won considerably on him, and he used 
 many arguments to induce him to prolong his visit. 
 
 He replied by expressing how much enjoyment he 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 97 
 
 had had, and pledged himself again, if circumstances 
 permitted, to return to the South. 
 
 Marie spent this evening in the gallery with the 
 gentlemen, accompanied by the children. The conver 
 sation flowed along in a gentle, pleasing manner ; each 
 tried to confer pleasure on the others. Even Talbot, 
 for the time, ceased brooding over his projects, and Tor- 
 got, for a season, the objects of his passion. 
 
 Such moments seldom occur, but when they do, they 
 mark a passage in a man's life ; they come like the 
 sweet songs of angels ; their influence lingers around us 
 like a pleasing dream ; and, as life advances, their 
 memory grows sweeter and sweeter. And this recol 
 lection clings to us like some dreamy half forgotten 
 strain of music. But these moments never return. 
 
 Like the wearied mariner, tossed about by wind and 
 wave in the waste of waters, we find ourselves suddenly 
 becalmed near some sweet placid isle, where the hues 
 of the violet and the tropical green are mingled with 
 the many colored tints of a Southern clime. The 
 wind freshens, and it is passed, the illimitable ocean is 
 around us, but the sweet remembrance of that fair isle, 
 its soft balmy shore, and its tiny wavelets breaking in 
 fairy grottos, clings around us forever. 
 
 Hartley felt, in separating next morning from his 
 generous hosts, a feeling of sadness ; they kindly pressed 
 him to remain, yet he could not ; he^ mounted his 
 horse, and rode away yet one more look ; they stood 
 in a family group in the gallery, gazing after him j~ the 
 orange boughs waved in the breeze, and seemed to bid 
 him farewell. A sigh escaped from his bosom, men 
 tally he blessed the family altar, he urged on his steed, 
 and was seen no more. 
 
 "Mr. Talbot," said Colonel Ormond, one morning, 
 
98 , THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 after breakfast, "you must amuse yourself as you best, 
 can; use no ceremony, be at home, and let not any 
 forms restrict your enjoyment. There are guns, and, 
 you have a horse at your service. You will find plen 
 ty of game back of the plantation, and old Pierre, a 
 negro whom you will find about the Quarter, will be 
 your attendant." 
 
 He replied in a suitable manner, and the colonel rode 
 out to attend to plantation duties. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Leave us not yet through rosy skies from far, 
 Bat now the song-birds to their nest return ; 
 The quivering image of the first pale star 
 On the dim lake yet scarce begins to burn ; 
 Leave us not yet." 
 
 TT was evening ; the sun was flinging a flood of gold- 
 -*- en radiance over all nature ; the trees, the water, all 
 caught a tinge of the crimson hue, as the declining orb 
 slowly sunk into his bath of glory. Marie was sitting 
 in the gallery reading ; the children were playing in the 
 yard below. Colonel Ormond rode up, and Marie de 
 scended the steps to meet him. 
 
 "Marie," he exclaimed, taking both her hands in his, 
 and looking into her face ; "I have some news for you." 
 
 " I can not imagine it." 
 
 " "Well, then, Louis Lamotte is going to Paris. His 
 guardian has consented at my request to send him, so 
 you see the children will have a companion on their 
 voyage." 
 
 " I am delighted at it," replied she, smiling, at the 
 same time placing in his hand a note. 
 
 He read it. 
 
 " Monsieur le Colonel, and Madame Marie : I am 
 
 certain of setting out for Paris, by the tenth of next 
 
 month. If you will entrust your children to my care, 
 
 vl will treat them as my own, and I will, as well as mad- 
 
 ame, be proud of your confidence. You will please 
 
100 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 
 write me, and advise of your determination, and 
 when you will be in the city. Accept the regards of 
 your friend : 
 
 " JACQUES CIRALLE." * 
 
 "You give me a Koland for my Oliver," said he, 
 laughing, "but I suppose it is the best we can do, 
 although it is distressing to separate from them." 
 
 " Oh, Charles ! you feel doubtless ; but what is your 
 grief to a mother's. You can ride about over the \ 
 plantation, attend to your duties, see company, hunt, j 
 fish, and go to town. I am alone ; I am sad and soli- j 
 tary ; I go from room to room ; 1 miss the silvery tone ' 
 of hapjpy voices, the light merry laugh, the tender 
 caress at night, when, like white doves, they fold up 
 their wings for rest ; I miss the murmured prayer ; I 
 turn from room to room with a shudder ; I feel as if 
 they were dead, for no gentle hand presses mine, and 
 says, ' Mother /' These things I feel." 
 
 " Well, Marie," replied he, speaking gravely and 
 kindly, " since you take it so much to heart, do not 
 send them away ; keep them and get a governess." 
 
 "No, Charles, I can make this sacrifice for their 
 sake. I am ready to send them." 
 
 "Zoe! Estelle!" cried he to the children. They 
 sprang toward him, for his voice had never been 
 raised in unkindness to them ; flowers were scattered 
 on the ground, and playthings overturned at that 
 voice. 
 
 He caught them up in his arms, they pressed their 
 pure little rosy lips to his ? and Zoe gazed at him with 
 her great " dreamy eyes," wondering why he was sol 
 serious. Estelle ran her hands into his locks, and t 
 leaned fondly on him. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 101 
 
 " Zoe," lie said, at length, " are you and Estelle 
 willing to go to school ?" 
 
 ^ " We would wish to go, papa," said they both. 
 ^ "Do you know you will have to cross the great 
 sea?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Zoe, " but mother says God is going , 
 with us, and we will be happy." 
 
 Ormond smiled at this naive remark. " God is 
 every where, my child ; and on the ocean, or at home, 
 never forget to thank him for all his kindness." 
 
 " We do thank him, papa. Mother makes us ask 
 the good God to bless you, and she prays for you so 
 sweetly." 
 
 Ormond placed them down gently* that remark, so 
 simple and unaffected, showing the purity of woman's 
 devotion, touched kis heart, and he walked out on the 
 river bank : his/breast was full. 
 
 That night he sat down and wrote to M. Ciralle, 
 thanking him for his offer, and embracing it. He also 
 sent a note the next morning to M. Le Baron, Louis' 
 guardian, expressing a wish that Louis might be allowed 
 to go over on the same vessel with his children. 
 
 Some days passed away, and no change occurred 
 among our characters. Marie, as usual, occupied her 
 self in needlework and in preparing for Zoe's and 
 Estelle's departure, and often in instructing them in 
 their religious duties. She never allowed an opportu 
 nity to pass without inculcating upon their minds 
 some holy truth or pious precept, for she was truly 
 religious, although she did not appertain to any church. 
 Bred and educated in the tenets of the Catholic faith, 
 she had in her earlier intercourse with Ormond been 
 , startled by the principles of his creed. She had read 
 and conversed with others on doctrinal points, and 
 
102 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 although not abjuring- the Eomisli Church entirely, 
 she ceased to be an attendant at the confessional. The 
 general principles of the sect she adhered to and be 
 lieved in ; hence her reason why a Catholic institution! 
 was preferred. 
 
 Colonel Ormond divided his time between Dr. Grant 
 and Mr. Herndon, but often took Talbot with him to 
 the neighbors, where he was always introduced as his 
 relative. When not occupied thus, Talbot was hunt 
 ing or fishing, away back in the recesses of the swamp, 
 with old Pierre for his attendant, who was in his eyes 
 the hero of a hundred tales. 
 
 When he was in the company of Marie, he assumed 
 so different a character from his own, that she ceased 
 to regard him with that strange feeling of repugnance 
 and anxiety which he at first inspired. He even be 
 came a favorite with the children ; he gathered flowers 
 for them, and wove them into garlands ; he carved 
 pieces of wood into toys and crosses, and made a 
 thousand fantastic forms of them. He would sit for 
 hours with his pencil and colors, and form some bril 
 liant picture with vivid hues, to captivate their senses. 
 He gave Zoe, as the eldest, drawing lessons, under 
 which she soon exhibited a rare and delicate taste ; or 
 he would get them near him, and plait willow baskets 
 for Estelle, and seem to listen with pleasure to her ex 
 pressions of delight ; and then at other times he would 
 please them by the sound of the flute. But although 
 he thus gained on their esteem, there was one whom 
 he could not conciliate that was Louis. Do what he 
 would, Louis ever repelled his advances, but in a polite 
 and courteous manner. With Talbot he was grave, 
 thoughtful and reserved ; but with others he was as 
 gay and cheerful as a happy disposition and good 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 103 
 
 temper could "make him. Talbot could not but ob 
 serve it, .and he secretly hated him for it. 
 
 Louis could not understand his feelings in regard to 
 f this man ; he could not analyze his sensations ; he 
 only knew that as two opposite elements brought into 
 contact will not unite, so it was with them ; he had 
 nothing in common with him ; but they could not 
 mingle, and he disliked him instinctively from the 
 first, 
 
 Before the family, Talbot's face wore the simple 
 manners of a well-meaning- but not profound man ; 
 his actions were common-place ; his conduct exhibited 
 nothing marked, save a disposition to please ; but it 
 was in the solitude of his chamber, when he was hid 
 den from all human eyes, when no one was near to 
 mark his actions, and betray the hidden secrets of his 
 soul : then, standing at the window of his room, did 
 he gaze over the fair fields fruitful with teeming crops; 
 then would the inward workings of his passions come 
 forth; then would he murmur at that Providence 
 which had so liberally endowed another, and put the 
 curse of poverty on himself; then would his form ex 
 pand, his chest heave, and his -eye light up with a 
 fiendish glare, and thoughts as dark as night chase 
 each other through his brain. 
 
 Thus remained matters for some weeks, during 
 which time arrangements for the final departure of 
 Zoe and Estelle were consummated. Nothing remained 
 but to allow the period to elapse until the sailing of 
 the ship; every one seemed to be in a bustle, and 
 busy for some time previous. There was a packing 
 and unpacking of boxes, a putting up of summer 
 clothes, and laying out of thicker ones ; then a substi 
 tution of thin ones again, as a thought of a warm day 
 
104: THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 
 
 at sea suggested itself. There was a making up 01 
 the toilet, and a thousand little things done which 
 might have been let alone. Even old Sally forgot to 
 grumble, and walked into the house half a dozen times 
 a day, with an apron full of lavender, rue, or sweet 
 marjorum, " to pack de childen's close in" and which 
 Marie would take to keep from hurting the old thing's 
 feelings, long after every thing was packed and ready 
 to be sent off. Pierre wiped his eyes with the cuff of his 
 jacket, and brought a lot of pecans " to keep the little 
 misses from bein' hongry on de road/' Sylvia occupied 
 her time in scolding the other servants, crying until 
 her eyes were as rell as a water turtle's, and in pack 
 ing up. 
 
 But all things will have an end, and so did this. 
 The fatal day at length arrived. During this and the 
 preceding one a watch had been kept up on the river 
 bank ; and it was not until the evening of the second 
 day, that the cry of the little negroes of, " De steam 
 boat corning !" warned Colonel Ormond, that now indeed 
 the first step was to be taken. Marie wept an abund 
 ance of tears, as she took the children in the garden, 
 for the last time ; and, under the old oaks, she once 
 more impressed uponftheir minds the great truths she 
 had tried to implant there, in her many conversa 
 tions. There, under the deep shade of those old trees, 
 did she, this pure mother, and her young children, hold 
 sweet converse, to serve for perhaps many years per 
 haps forever I There in that sweet spot, familiar by a 
 thousand joyful associations ; sacred by a mother's holy 
 love ; did they cling to each other, and mingle a sacred 
 grief at quitting such a home, it might be, never to re 
 turn ; its joys, and cares, its pleasant hours ; its flowers 
 and birds, were to be to them no more. 
 
THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 105 
 
 " Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth, 
 Oh silent house I once filled with mirth ; 
 Sorrow is in the breezy sound, 
 Of thy tall poplars whispering round." 
 
 And thus it was until Colonel Ormond found them ; 
 and they accompanied him to the landing. 
 
 The boat was nearing the shore ; the white flag 
 waved, and the sonorous tones of her great bell replied ; 
 the white wreaths of steam arose ; she glided along and 
 turned in to the bank. The baggage was piled up on 
 the wharf, which ran out a few feet into the river. 
 Then came a crowd of negroes, old and young, yel 
 low and black, all surrounding the party, almost suffo 
 cating them ; and each desirous of bidding a personal 
 farewell to the children. They all were sorry, many 
 cried bitterly, and the whole made a great deal of noise ; 
 each one too was emulous of being distinguished by 
 their greater attention. Some brought pecans, some 
 sugar-cane, and some a bunch of violets, even one a 
 young bird. Old Sally had brought a memento. 
 
 "Here, Miss Estelle," she exclaimed, "Dis is de last 
 laying of ' old Frizzly} I was gwine to set em, but I 
 fotch 'em for you to member old Sally by/' and here 
 she forced into her hand the handle of a basket con 
 taining about a dozen fresh eggs. Estelle looked up, 
 and burst out laughing, but took them. Poor old 
 thing I in the simplicity of her heart, she thought it a 
 suitable present. 
 
 Then came the last parting, and the tears, and shak 
 ing of hands, and then it was all over ; the planks 
 were drawn on board, the big bell sounded, and they 
 were on the bosom of the muddy Mississippi. The 
 girls were out on the guards waving a last farewell ; 
 there they stood, answered by a hundred adieus, and 
 
106 THE-CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 the waving of many hands ; the voices sounded faint* 
 er amid the rush of steam, the crowd grew more indis 
 tinct, and at last dwindled down to a confused mass ; a 
 bend in the river shut them out from sight, and all 
 was over. The poor children retired to their state 
 room to weep. 
 
 Talbot had stood by during the parting, and his 
 heart beat too, he scarce knew why. Colonel Ormond 
 requested him to come to New Orleans in a few days 
 after they had left, so as to allow him time to see the 
 children off; and he would try and procure him a sit 
 uation in some house in the city. 
 
 As had been agreed upon, Louis Lamotte was to ac 
 company them ; and Colonel Ormond therefore re 
 quested the captain of the steamer to land at Le Ba 
 ron's plantation. Accordingly, as she hove in sight, 
 her bell again slowly sounded out the warning. Dr. 
 Grant was standing on the levee, with Louis beside 
 him, and there was the portly form, and good-humored 
 countenance, the grizzled whiskers d la militaire, and 
 the broad brimmed hat of Mr. Le Baron. A happy 
 smile of joy lit up the countenance of Louis as he rec 
 ognized the faces of Zoe and Estelle, who were stand 
 ing on the guards, with old Sylvia. The steamer 
 rounded to, there was another greeting another part 
 ing, and away plunged the good boat, freighted ^vith 
 many anxious souls. 
 
 Dr. Grant remained on board ; he was to accompany 
 them to the city;* and Louis and himself sought the 
 ladies cabin. As soon, however, as the doctor was 
 free, he and Ormond might be seen strolling down to- 
 ' ward the bar for a little toddy, a cigar, and a hand in 
 one of the numerous card parties ; this is life on the 
 Mississippi. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 107 
 
 It was morning again, radiant and cheerful ; the sun 
 light sparkled on the water, and the pleasant breeze 
 came refreshingly up, wafting on its wings the fragrance 
 of a far-off field of flowers from some bright little 
 isle. New Orleans was in sight ! Oh what a variety 
 of faces that announcement aroused j how many anx 
 iously crowded forward to catch a first glimpse of the 
 metropolis of the land of flowers ! To our party, it 
 told of an early separation which made Marie's heart 
 bound turaultuously in her bosom. To some it spoke 
 of a meeting with long severed friends. See the un 
 couth youth with the brass watch-chain, there by the 
 bar, trying to smoke a common cigar. See the lights 
 and shadows on his countenance ; but see the smile of 
 conscious security which mingles with all. What does 
 it^ denote ? Why he has come South at the invitation 
 of a friend of his father, to be put as a clerk in his 
 store. . He is provided for ; let him pass. 
 
 Turn your gaze now on that red-headed youth ; see 
 his dress ; look at the assurance of the cast of his 
 beaver ; see that air of nonchalance he tries to assume, 
 with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his red waistcoat. 
 He seems to look down on all around him, as he puts 
 the gold head of his cane to his mouth ; but, with all 
 his sang froid, he is excited. 
 
 He is a member of one of the u first families of Vir 
 ginia." A brother left the clay hills of the Old Do 
 minion years ago, to seek his fortune. Time rolled on 
 and fortune smiled ; brother after brother came out, 
 and all succeeded; some are merchants, some in 
 banks ; but never mind, they are men every inch, and 
 now here is the Joseph of the flock ; he has come with 
 all his pride of birth and high family notions, to be 
 made a man of in his turn, But here is another char- 
 
108 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 acter ; look at that comical phiz that inimitable grin, 
 and that air of independence ; see his dress, made at 
 Lome, woven and spun by rosy- cheeked and cherry- 
 lipped sisters ; look at those metal buttons big enough 
 for saucers; coat, vest and pants, all the same, and 
 that unapproachable hat. "Bar-keeper, I guess I'll 
 take a cigar how much dew ye ask for 'em? Gosh 1 
 I can't stand that ! whar I come from yeou can git 
 tew for a cent." Some day you may find him presi 
 dent of a bank. 
 
 But who is he that young handsome fellow with 
 new hat, fine pantaloons and elegant boots? He is 
 lounging in one chair, and his legs thrown carelessly 
 over the back of another ; his eyes are half shut, and 
 he indolently smokes, as if it were a labor ; see his 
 languid air. He is the son of a cotton-planter, and is 
 going to buy more niggers to raise more cotton, to buy 
 more niggers with. Do you see that person near him, 
 with the shad -bellied coat, white hat, and crape around 
 it, bright buttons, and a profusion of jewelry? He is 
 a human shark, a gambler; he has his eye on the 
 aforesaid young man. A social game will be intro 
 duced, and the gold will fly; maybe his indulgent 
 father will not see much of the money for the draft he 
 gave him for the balance of his crop ; it will melt 
 away, and go as easy as the half dollar he carelessly 
 throws to the waiter who brushes his pants. Here are 
 many more characters. There is a young doctor, who 
 can scarce]y decide whether he will oust the house-, 
 surgeon of the Charity Hospital, or settle in the coun 
 try ; and if the latter, he can not decide to what por 
 tion to give the benefits of his vast stores of knowl 
 edge. There is a young lawyer, a graduate of Cam 
 bridge, going to settle somewhere- and here is the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 109 
 
 dapper clerk from Philadelphia; here the broken- 
 down merchant of Boston, whose paper was once 
 good in Calcutta, or on the Bourse in Paris, or among 
 the brokers of London ; he, sad and solitary, is going 
 to seek for some subordinate situation in the city of 
 New Orleans. And here is the adventurer, who is 
 ready for any thing, from being sent as a missionary 
 among the Indians, to going on a slaving voyage. 
 
 Here, also, is the jolly old sugar-planter, whose 
 name is good for many a thousand ; and by his side 
 the cotton-planter, who numbers his bales far up in the 
 hundreds ; both are neatly but plainly dressed ; and 
 by them, stands a New York tailor, who, by his airs 
 and habit, seems to be able to buy them both. 
 
 . Far up in the- lady's cabin are others, girls coming 
 South to seek husbands, and there with sharp nose, 
 vinegar aspect, and eyes like a raccoon, sits a young 
 lady of thirty -three ; she has come South to act as 
 governess in a gentleman's family. 
 
 But we have no further time to individualize, the 
 boat reaches the levee, and is pushing her way among 
 a number of others, lying there from every portion 
 of the country. The mass of human beings on board, 
 tumultuously hurrying, pressing forward, pressing 
 back, carpet-bags, trunks, band-boxes, wig-boxes, all are 
 mingled in confusion ; and the crowd below on the 
 wharf, shout and laugh and jest, and try to rush 
 aboard ; and the tribe of cabmen and hotel runners, 
 and porters mix ; and the crowd above, and the crowd 
 below gaze on each other a moment, each seeking for 
 some familiar face, then advance like the heads of two 
 contending armies, meet, unite and, as some chemical 
 mixture poured into a turbulent pool in a moment be 
 comes calm, lost in each other, swallowed up, no longer 
 
110 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 distinguishable, and our characters are also covered up 
 in mist, and absorbed in the toil and turmoil of a great 
 
 Dr. Grant, who had charge of the outfit of Louis, of 
 course became with him a guest of Colonel Ormond. 
 We will not follow the minutiae of events in their life 
 in New Orleans. Colonel Ormond and Dr. Grant 
 would stroll down town in the morning at nine ; return 
 up town at eleven, dine at three, see friends, or devote 
 themselves to the family, or gradually saunter home in 
 the heat of the day ; in the evening stroll down to the 
 Place d 'Armes, and after a promenade around its 
 ancient walks, and paying a tribute of solemn interest 
 to the old Cathedral, bring themselves up to the steps 
 of the Cafe, de Ville ; there seated in a quiet corner, 
 with a cup of coffee, for which this place was ever 
 famed, and a fragrant cigar, they would listen with 
 interest to the conversations of the old French and 
 Spanish residents, who always gather around the 
 domino-tables, drink coffee, and talk about " lang 
 syne" 
 
 I do not know how it is, but I never could approach 
 the old church of St. Louis, and gaze upon its antique 
 /towers, its time-stained walls, its old Tuscan ground 
 work with its quaint foreign style, without offering a 
 sigh to times gone by, with a feeling of reverence and 
 interest. Viewing it from the opposite side of the 
 square in connection with its wings, the public build 
 ings, and letting the imagination wander back to the 
 time when the cavaliers of Spain trod in their pride 
 its aisles, and the yellow flag floated from its towers, or 
 the tri-color of France usurped its place, it recalls the 
 days of Bienville, Carondolet, Vidal, and Casa Calvo. 
 The events, which had passed in the apartments of the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. Ill 
 
 City Hall, and changed the fate of a nation, and the 
 scenes which had taken place on that old square 
 when " the star-spangled banner" arose before the eyes 
 of a delighted people, and proclaimed them free. On 
 treading its ancient aisles, and before its bright altar 
 gazing on those living forms which have rendered the 
 pencil of Raphael immortal, and drinking in those 
 heavenly sounds which float around its heavy arches ; 
 all these bewilder and delight. Or, stand over the 
 dust of the pro ad rulers of this chosen land, and 
 among them good Father Sedella, who for half a cen 
 tury officiated at its altar ; the effect is the same, and 
 a dim misty crowd of ghosts of departed events pass 
 and repass before you, and chasten the spirit. 
 
 In this spot, so dear to the old citizens, did Ormond 
 and Dr. Grant love to linger, and in this quiet place 
 watch the devotees, as they left the busy, bustling 
 world with all its cares and joys, to render adoration 
 where it is due. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "None is poor but the mean in mind, 
 None is wealthy but the affluent in soul." 
 
 TUTPZB. 
 
 " I am determined to prove a villain. 
 * * * * * 
 
 Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous." 
 
 RICHARD III. 
 
 TITE left Talbot alone on the plantation ; he never 
 met the overseer except in some of his rambles. 
 With Pierre he wandered over the broad domain ; he 
 spent whole days upon the lake, or penetrated far into 
 the swamp ; and while he thus occupied his time, he 
 brooded over his fancies. He hoped and prayed that 
 some contingency might arise by which he would be 
 u the only surviving relative," and that Colonel Or- 
 mond would defer and procrastinate, until too late, the 
 act of justice to Marie. And while he thus allowed 
 his mind to ponder on this theme, he, even he, would 
 shudder as strange phantoms would flit across his 
 brain. So horrible his dreams that he dared not even 
 speculate on this too much. 
 
 A night or two after the departure of Colonel Or- 
 mond, Talbot was sitting alone ; lights were brought 
 in, his eyes were bent on the fire, musing on the events 
 of the past few months ; his foul imagination was run 
 ning riot with his reason. Memory was busy with the 
 " scenes that were," and visions of other days floated 
 
THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 113 
 
 around him ids father's familj,his gray -haired mother, 
 his blooming sisters, all, all gone ; and he left to strug 
 gle on alone with poverty. Ay ! that poverty and 
 deep degradation, the pitiless master, and the cold, 
 unsympathizing world; and they too were fled, and 
 the dream was changed. 
 
 As we have before said, the family of Talbot were 
 poor, but respectable; his father had died while he 
 was quite young, and the whole support of three sis 
 ters and himself devolved upon the mother. She pos 
 sessed a small house on the outskirts of the city, and 
 with the help of her eldest girl, succeeded in procuring 
 sewing. But even this did not last ; death called her 
 away, and then soon followed one of the younger sis 
 ters. About this time, a man who was in a small 
 business, and whom the family had worked for, be 
 came intimate at the house ; the result was, the seduc 
 tion of the youngest girl and her desertion of the 
 family. A fatal disease soon carried off the eldest 
 one, and Talbot was left alone. Out of compassion, 
 he was taken as an errand-boy by a commercial house, 
 and finding him possessed of a good deal of natural 
 shrewdness and capacity, the senior member of the 
 firm sent him to school. Here he acquired the knowl 
 edge he possessed, and being naturally intelligent, he 
 soon outstripped his class-mates. His prospects were 
 ruined by the death of his kind patron, and in a short 
 time the dissolution of the house deprived him of his 
 situation. At the age of fifteen he barely supported 
 himself by any thing which offered ; many nights he 
 went supperless to bed, and many others he had no 
 bed at all. ftrom this date, living in destitution, he 
 spent three years among the lowest and vilest of a 
 
114 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 great city, and from this period may be dated. Ms 
 ruin. 
 
 He secured an humble situation at a pitiful salary,. 
 which he held until his long-cherished design of com 
 ing South was carried into execution. It was during 
 his association with the low and corrupt that a color 
 ing was given to his future life. He was not by nature 
 gifted with any brilliant qualities of mind, but seemed 
 in a supereminent degree to be possessed of duplicity, 
 and to a casual observer could pass for one deeply 
 learned. From his infancy he had seen the influence 
 and power of%ealth; he therefore, when he had ar 
 rived at the years of manhood, sought the fellowship 
 of young men whose means were large. Those who 
 were dissolute and profligate soon became his firm 
 friends, and many was the douceur he received from 
 them for lending his aid in gratifying their pleasures. 
 
 He had long resolved in his own soul, and it had 
 become the fixed and predominant idea in his subtle 
 mind, to one day revel in wealth, to be the master of 
 gold for its own sake, and for the power it gave its 
 possessor over others. This was what turned his steps 
 to the South. Allured by the golden dreams he had 
 formed, and descriptions from others, he had long 
 determined to desert an arid soil and frigid climate, 
 and emigrate to the land of sunshine and gold. With 
 this intention he hoarded every cent, until he had ac 
 cumulated sufficient to carry him to the Eldorado of 
 his hopes and wishes. 
 
 For some years previous to his leaving the North, 
 he had contracted an intimacy with a young man by 
 the name of William Stamps. ^ 
 
 This person lived in the same establishment with 
 him, and consequently they were thrown much into 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 115 
 
 each other's society ; a similarity of tastes soon drew 
 the bonds of their intimacy closer, and they became 
 warm friends. The same feelings and habits, which 
 characterized Talbot, exhibited themselves in Stamps, 
 with this exception : Stamps loved money with a 
 devoted and ardent feeling, simply as the means of 
 gratifying his passions, of which wine and women 
 were not the least. He had been well brought up 
 until that age at which boys are sent off to shift for 
 themselves ; bad companions had converted him into 
 a depraved reprobate. He had but one virtue, if vir 
 tue it can be termed, seeing that it if possessed by 
 many of the inferior animals in an eminent degree : 
 he was constitutionally brave, and, had he lived at a 
 period when courage could have been called forth, he 
 might have become distinguished. He was two years 
 the senior of Talbot ; but instead of a low, tortuous 
 policy being pursued, he went straight to the point at 
 once. He was a bold but unscrupulous man ; he did 
 not possess that prudent, cautious, self-preserving pol 
 icy which the other had; his was the subservient 
 mind to Talbot's. He was the one to execute, bold 
 and confident if guided by a superior mind, but mys 
 tified and lost if not directed and left to himself. Both 
 combined made a pair to be feared and avoided. 
 
 This much premised, we return to Mr. Talbot, 
 whom we left comfortably sitting by the fire. Supper 
 was over, and he was virtuously laying plans to make 
 a fortune, when he suddenly thought of Stamps. 
 
 When he parted from him, he had faithfully prom 
 ised to write, and to pave the way for his advent ; this 
 promise now came across his memory ; and he arose 
 from his seat. " Confound it I" he exclaimed, " I have 
 neglected poor Stamps very much ; I promised to write 
 
116 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 often, and here I have been some weeks, and have not 
 thought of him. It will not do to neglect him, for he 
 may be of use to me some of these times, and I must 
 keep him in play. He reached to the mantle and took 
 a cigar, a small vase of which was always ready. 
 
 " Well, well," he continued, as he slowly lit it, and 
 watched its glowing point li well, my friend, we are 
 situated differently now from what we were once ; you 
 are plodding on behind the counter, peddling calico 
 and pins ; and I ah this is a confounded good cigar. 
 Well, well ;" and here he sat down again, and relapsed 
 into his musing. His thoughts again ran upon his form 
 er life, and his clerkship ; the many Sabbath walks 
 they had taken into the suburbs. Many a deep and 
 envious sigh had escaped them, as they eyed the splen 
 did equipages, when they dashed by, in all their glory 
 and pride, of gold, and silver platings, with dashing 
 steeds, proud menials, and voluptuous inmates, rolling 
 along to church. Then would they fall into conversa 
 tions, in which romantic visions of wealth, and luxu 
 ry were predominant, until they were beyond the noise 
 of streets, where the nabob moved in all his glory, 
 until they were far up in the green woods : they then 
 would recline on some seat of stone in the public 
 grounds, or on a mossy bank, and dream away the 
 day ; then returning, dine at some cheap restaurant, in 
 which the viands were, by the excitement of their im 
 aginations, made to resemble some rare banquet. 
 
 Again Talbot rose and paced the room, then sudden 
 ly seating himself, drew up the light, opened his port 
 folio, and penned the following letter, which will ex 
 hibit the nature of his musings : 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 117 
 
 " PLANTATION, PARISH of , LA. 
 
 December 10th, 18 . 
 
 DEAR STAMPS: Upon parting with, you in 
 New York, I promised to write on my way, and cer 
 tainly upon my arrival in this country ; but the fact 
 is, I have had my time so much occupied that I have 
 had no leisure. 
 
 " Billy, imagine your friend now sitting in a splen 
 didly furnished room by a fire ; a first rate cigar (not 
 like them we used to smoke), and plenty of servants to 
 wait upon me, and all this upon a fine sugar plantation. 
 
 "I found upon my arrival a relation, who is the 
 owner of it ; a fine fellow he is too, and as liberal as he 
 can be. He has got the most beautiful woman you 
 ever saw, and two sweet little girls, and as much mo 
 ney as would burn up a wet dog. -I spend my time 
 very pleasantly, and the gentlemen around here are 
 gentlemen ; they are just as different from what we have 
 heard as you can imagine. Nothing like what the 
 Northern people think ; they are affable and kind, not 
 proud, as they are up there. 
 
 " I shall leave in a few days for New Orleans, which, 
 is only a day's journey, to go into business. 
 
 "Billy, this country comes up to the idea of what 
 we formed of it. It is now December ; with you the 
 weather is as cold as Charity, while with us the air is 
 as bland as April. The garden and yard are full of 
 flowers and fruit ; ay I and the orange-trees are loaded- 
 yes, oranges ! regular golden fruit. What do you 
 think of that, Stamps ? And then go into the sugar- 
 house, see the number of slaves ; see their operations, 
 the machinery, the sugar boiling, and then the net 
 amount of the sugar hogsheads, and the sea of mo 
 lasses. Ah, Stamps ! your mouth waters. 
 
118 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " Wei], there is a negro always at my service, to go 
 out hunting with me ; and there is also a lake and a 
 boat. What would you give to be able to say, 
 'Bring out my horse !' and in a few minutes you have 
 him at the door, ready saddled for you to mount, and 
 then you can ride away, and stay as long as you 
 choose ; go to the house of a neighbor and dine ; be 
 treated like a prince ; or go down to town and drink 
 with gentlemen who spend more in cigars and liquor 
 in a year than old Hunks is worth ; come back in the 
 evening, have no one to say to you, ' Where have you 
 been, sir?' like we used to do, if we staid a minute 
 over our time in going to our meals, and tremble in 
 our shoes for fear of loosing our place. 
 
 " The only thing I lack now is your company, 
 Stamps ; and that I must have, sooner or later. I will 
 as soon as I get established, exert myself in procuring 
 you a situation. Colonel Ormond which is the name 
 of my relation, told me to come to New Orleans in a 
 few days after him ; I suppose he intends to provide 
 for me. I thought at first that he did not look upon 
 me with a very kind eye, and the lady less so ; but I 
 have just 'spread my self J and tried to please, and now 
 I see a great deal better feeling. At first, she seemed 
 to be as afraid of me as if I were a bear, but now she 
 sits and laughs, while I sketch faces for the children. 
 
 " Time, with corresponding action on my part, will 
 banish every thing but want of confidence. 
 
 " The colonel thinks it his duty to do all he can for 
 his relative; and I can not resist the sweet temp 
 tation of letting him do as he pleases ; the more so as 
 I can do nothing for myself. 
 
 " They have now gone to New Orleans, to send the 
 two little girls, { Zoe and EstellJ to Paris to school ; 
 
THE CKEOLE OKPHANS. 119 
 
 j by the way, speaking of them, they are of that 
 beauty which you benighted Northerners little dream 
 of; pure Italian like, with the olive and rose strug 
 gling for the mastery in their cheeks ; while their eyes 
 are large, soft, and "expressive ; forms like sylphs. 
 Ah, my boy ! your mouth streams water they are 
 the mere inception of the beautiful. If the bud is 
 thus, oh, what will the flower be! This 'honey-bell 
 and night-star 1 would captivate your senses. 
 
 "I find the people here all tinged with a religious 
 feeling ; but it seems as if they were unconscious of it. 
 Take, for example, to exhibit the difference, a Northern 
 man, sent to Sunday school from the time he is nine 
 days old, church three times a day, and once during 
 the week class meetings and Bible societies, crammed 
 to repletion with religious tracts, send him South, and 
 they are the very men who set morality at naught, 
 hunt, fish, go to town on Sunday, and do every thing 
 which is condemned by the Christian world; while 
 you find the Southern gentleman, raised in luxury 
 from infancy, is the one who seems to have an intuitive 
 veneration for the Sabbath, and for all things holy. I 
 have learned this much from observation. I suppose, 
 however, it is the way we at the North are raised ; we 
 become surfeited with religion at home. 
 
 " But, heigho ! here I am giving a moral discourse, 
 and am drawing this letter out too long. I merely 
 designed to say that I found this land of the South 
 to be equal to what I imagined it. 
 
 " Write very soon I will reply and if I get into 
 a situation, I will not wait to receive yours. 
 
 " Adieu, Billy, and believe me as ever, 
 
 " Your friend, 
 " TALBOT." 
 
120 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " "Well," lie exclaimed, as lie threw down tlie pen, 
 and gave a deep sigh, " that 's over, and I call that a 
 non-committal. It is not in my style, but he will 
 attribute that to my coming South, and the change in 
 my situation." And here he threw himself back, and 
 again indulged in visions. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 " They that go down to tho sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these 
 see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep." PSALM cvii. 23, 21 
 
 TT was another mild and lovely day, as the whole 
 * family of Colonel Ormond set out to visit the ship 
 which was to be the home of Zoe and Estelle for so 
 many weeks. She was called "Jeanne d'Arc," and 
 had been selected by Mr. Civalle', as combining more 
 of the comforts and elegancies he loved than any 
 other. She was a light, clipper ship, fitted up in 
 magnificent style. Along the street, amid boxes and 
 barrels, bales and chests, tierces and casks, to the levee 
 amid drays and carriages, fruit-merchants, and Jew- 
 peddlers steamboat hands and sailors our party went 
 wondering, and taking note of all, curious and unusual. 
 They were joined by Mr. Civalle and his Iady 7 a 
 pleasant affable little Frenchwoman, with a black eye 
 and handsome teeth. There, with a thousand gay 
 flags fluttering in the breeze; with their taut-drawn 
 rigging, and their yards cock-bill ; their tall tapering 
 spars, and loosened sails ; the noise of the crowd on the 
 levee around ; the orders of the mates, arid the merry 
 song of the seamen ; there lay, side by side, vessels of 
 many nations. The levee was strung with goods of 
 every clime ; and every language was echoed in the 
 ears of the passer-by, as he trod the wharves of the 
 Queen City of the South West. The roll of vehicles 
 
 6 
 
122 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 the shouts and laughs of the crowd the chattering 
 of the market-people the orders of the stevedore, as 
 he directed the labor of his men the inquiries and 
 replies, in foreign tongues, of clerks discharging car 
 goes the shrill piping of the Frenchman the soft 
 and melodious Italian the jawbreakers of the crowd 
 of Dutch from some emigrant-ship, with their little 
 caps, short jackets, long pipes, and metal buttons, as 
 they came along in a drove, men, women, and chil 
 dren all, all formed a strange and novel concourse 
 of sights and sounds to more than one of the party. 
 
 At last they gained the pier, and were met by the 
 captain of the ship. He was an old friend of M. 
 Civalle's, and a handsome, well-informed gentleman. 
 The "Jeanne d'Arc" was a new vessel, built in a 
 superior manner, and bound for Havre. 
 
 They were showed into the cabin ; the saloons, state 
 rooms, bath-house, all were seen, and received a share 
 of their attention and praise. 
 
 Colonel Ormond inscribed the names of the voyageurs 
 on the register. 
 
 They at length expressed themselves satisfied, and 
 departed. 
 
 The day was fixed for the sailing of the vessel, and 
 now all things were held in readiness for that event. 
 Marie cried, and declared she could not consent for 
 the girls to leave her ; and then turned and scolded 
 Ormond, because he agreed that it should be deferred. 
 But at length yielding to a stern necessity, she made 
 up her mind, and nerved herself up to the last sorrow 
 ful sacrifice. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' My child, my child, thou leavest me ! I shall hear 
 The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear 
 With its first utterance ; I shall miss the sound 
 Of thy light step amid the flowers around ; 
 And thy soft breathing hymn at twilight's close, 
 And thy ' Good-night' at parting for repose." 
 
 MADELINE. 
 
 HHHE eventful day at length arrived, and opened on 
 -** Marie with an anxious and sorrowful heart. M. 
 Civalle arrived soon after breakfast in a carriage, and 
 requested them to be on board at ten o'clock. The 
 baggage was packed, and in the hall every thing 
 was confusion. Colonel Ormond could not read his 
 morning paper ; his cigar was neglected. He arose, 
 and sat down again ; he paced the hall, looked at his 
 watch, and then seated himself. Marie was at his side, 
 asking a thousand questions, and attending to all those 
 little wants for the children which only a mother 
 knows how to care for. 
 
 Dr. Grant was often coming into the breakfast-room, 
 vowing that something would be forgotten ; while 
 Louis was constantly bringing in an accession of arti 
 cles, which he declared would be needed for the 
 voyage. 
 
 Old Sylvia hopped about, trying to arrange matters, 
 all the time making them worse, and creating more 
 disorder ; when the car came lumbering up for the 
 baggage. *'u 
 
124 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Breakfast was earlier than usual, and dispatched in 
 silence ; for heavy and sad, were the hearts which that 
 morning were clustered around the board. 
 
 Marie retired to her own room with the girls ; and 
 there, with one on each side, did she kneel down, and 
 pour forth her full soul to God. Earnestly she be 
 sought him to extend over her unprotected lambs his 
 mighty arm. 
 
 Oh ! who can feel as a mother feels ? Whose heart, 
 pure and devoted, is so forgetful of self as a mother's ? 
 Her thoughts, her ideas, her actions, are all for her 
 offspring. 
 
 Marie knelt, and, in agony of soul, asked the 
 blessing of God. Softly she called upon all the holy 
 saints and angels to watch and protect, and, in the 
 hour of danger, to be nigh them. Ere she arose, she 
 heard Colonel Ormond below, asking for her. She 
 added a few more words of advice. 
 
 "Zoe," she said, "you are the elder: remember, 
 now, that you are, though young, to supply my place 
 to Estelle in many things. Attend to her wants ; and 
 do not annoy Madame Civalle. Be kind to each other. 
 You are going many weary miles from your mother ; 
 do not forget her ; and remember, children, your 
 Father in heaven ! Every night, either in calm or 
 storm, remember, never to lay your heads down on 
 your pillow, until you have asked His blessing. He 
 will watch over you, and make you good and happy, 
 my children." Much more to the same effect did she 
 say. If, the reader happen to be a mother, she will 
 understand the feelings of Marie, upon thus surren 
 dering her jewels. She will appreciate all the feelings 
 of a mother's heart and a mother's sorrow. 
 
 The sound of 'wheels at the door informed them 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 125 
 
 that the moment had arrived. Marie now entered the 
 parlor with Zoe and Estelle, all ready for traveling ; 
 and Colonel Ormond came in at another door. Dr. 
 Grant was sitting on the sofa with Louis, in a sorrow 
 ful mood, for he had no children of his own, and he 
 felt all the tender and sincere feeling of a parent for 
 these. Old Sylvia was behind the door, crying as if 
 her heart would break. Colonel Ormond happened to 
 look at her, and she appeared so earnest in her lament 
 ations that he could not refrain from smiling. 
 
 " Sylvia," he said, " I have an idea of sending you 
 off with the children. What do you think of it ?" 
 
 Sylvia nervously stepped out from behind the door, 
 and after wiping her eyes many times, placed her arms 
 akimbo, and replied, " Master, I knows very well that 
 I ain't nothin' but a nigger, and it can't be 'spected 
 that I will tell the truth ; but I tell you what I thinks 
 of it. I thinks that it is a burnin' shame for you and 
 Miss Marie, to go to sendin' them poor children away 
 from home. I wish that Paris was sunk to de bottom 
 of de Massasip. De Lord knows, when I look at dem 
 poor little tremblin' things, what I has nursed for 
 years in these old skinny arms, and think that they 
 has to be sent off among strangers I had just as lief 
 die 1" and here the faithful creature burst into tears, 
 and flung herself out of the room. 
 
 " There is a good deal of feeling and little policy in 
 Sylvia," said Dr. Grant, laughing to hide a tear. 
 
 Colonel Ormond compressed his lips, but said noth 
 ing. Marie was at that moment about to close a small 
 trunk which had not been carried in the cart ; it con 
 tained all the fine laces and light wearing apparel, 
 and bijouterie of the children. Ormond arose. " Hold 
 Marie 1" he said, and, going to the mantel, where laid 
 
126 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 a pair of scissors, lie seized them and severed a large 
 lock of hair from his head, threw it into the trunk, 
 saying in a touching tone, " My children, remember 
 your father, and if it should please God for us never 
 to meet again, let this lock of hair remind you of his 
 last wishes. Eemember your virtue, your honor, and 
 your God!" 
 
 He turned off and left the room. 
 
 The entrance of Louis informed them that the mo 
 ment had arrived in reality, and Colonel Orrnond re 
 turning, Marie arose, hastily donned her bonnet, and 
 pulled her vail down over her face. Sylvia and a 
 Creole servant-girl named Martha assisted the children 
 to arrange their bonnets and shawls, and, as Dr. Grant 
 left the room, Colonel Ormond silently offered his arm 
 to Marie. 
 
 They entered the carriage, and were rolled down to 
 the levee. The captain was standing at the gangway, 
 and by his side the good-humored countenance of 
 M. Civalle showed itself, asking and replying to ques 
 tions all in the same breath, and making all the usual 
 gestures which a Frenchman alone is capable of. 
 When our party entered the cabin, there were several 
 ladies and gentlemen present who were passengers; 
 with these they speedily formed an acquaintance, and, 
 after the usual formalities had been complied with, in 
 regard to stowing of baggage and selecting berths, 
 they all went on deck. 
 
 The ship had been hauled out from the pier, and 
 was only held by a single line. It had been arranged 
 that Colonel Ormond, Marie, and Dr. Grant should 
 accompany them down to the Balize, and return in a 
 tow-boat. The passengers were* on the quarter and 
 poop-deck, watching the sailors as they cleared the 
 
THE CEEOLE OK P HANS. 127 
 
 decks of dunnage, stowing provisions, reefing the run 
 ning rigging, and bending on new sails. 
 
 Painters were at work, touching up stains and 
 bruises, and boys polishing the brass capstan head, 
 binnacle, and stanchions at the hatch and gangway. 
 The mates were busy in seeing every thing snug ; 
 stewards in a hurry, getting in their wines, and pre 
 paring for their guests ; and a peep into their well' 
 arranged pantries, at the rows of bottles of wines, 
 sauces and confections, promised well for creature 
 comforts during the voyage. 
 
 M. Civalle had a number of suspicious-looking little 
 bottles to stow away, while his wife, a pretty little 
 animated brunette of some twenty -five years, remained 
 behind on the poop-deck, which I shall take the liberty, 
 for the benefit of the non-professional, to explain to be 
 that portion of the deck which is abaft the mizen-mast 
 or after-portion of the ship, and forms the roof of the 
 cabin, raised above the other portion of the deck. 
 
 Marie sat apart with her children, and conversed 
 with them in a low and earnest manner. 
 
 It was past noon when the tow-boat " Lion" came 
 alongside ; she had in tow a Liverpool ship ; she 
 stopped, the " Jeanne d'Arc" was dropped down on 
 her larboard quarter, the line which held her to the 
 levee was loosened, and she had in another moment 
 cast off all ties which held her to America. The voy 
 age was begun, she was passing down to her ocean 
 home, whose white-crested waves and tossing winds 
 longed to embrace her.~ Night came, and with it mil 
 lions of stars reflected in the glassy bosom of the river. 
 The passengers were all gathered in groups on the 
 deck, over which there had been an awning rigged, to 
 protect them from the night air ; some were sitting soli- 
 
128 THE CBEOLE OBPHANS. 
 
 tary and alone, with heaving breast and a watery eye, 
 thinking on home and friends left behind ; some were 
 conversing in a joyous tone, and others were silent, 
 but the dark wing of melancholy hung over them as 
 they sat and gazed into the deep water over which 
 they were gliding. The croaking of myriads of frogs, 
 the solemn and wild cry of the bittern from its home 
 in the swamp, and the low flat shores and long grass 
 lent a peculiar character to the scene. 
 
 Colonel Ormond sat alone with Marie, conversing 
 with the children, and Dr. Grant and M. Civalle were 
 discussing with great earnestness the most delicate 
 points in French cookery. 
 
 There seemed to be a tacit understanding among 
 the passengers not to retire until their arrival at the 
 mouth of the river. The air, although it was late in 
 the season, was soft and balmy, and a gentle breeze 
 slightly waved the long grass on shore ; and there 
 they sat, all enjoying themselves, and waiting to get a 
 sight of the great ocean. 
 
 It was broad daylight when the long, low, flat shore 
 terminated, and beyond lay, in illimitable expanse, the 
 great ocean. The town was passed, and it was not 
 long ere the waters of the Mississippi mingled with 
 the clear blue of the Gulf. Here the anchor was let 
 go, and the " Lion" stretched out to sea, to look for 
 an inbound vessel. A pilot came on board, and took 
 command of the ship, which gradually worked her 
 way over the bar, and came into deep water. Colonel 
 Ormond and Marie remained on the ship, and until a 
 long black line of smoke>was seen on the horizon they 
 spent the fleeting moments with their children. 
 
 The tow-boat, as agreed upon in the morning, grad 
 ually neared and slackened her steam. Then Marie's 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 129 
 
 breath came thick ; and a thousand feelings resolved 
 themselves into a single moment of time; the last 
 parting had come. She nerved herself up to a final 
 effort ; and as the word was given, " All aboard I" 
 she clasped her children deep and passionate was the 
 embrace powerful the storm of sorrow which was 
 pent-up in her bosom. The captain seized his trum 
 pet ; the mates echoed his orders ; and crowding aft, 
 the men rushed with the capstan bars ; the messenger 
 and swifter were already around it ; the word was 
 given, and away they flew; the anchor was catted; 
 the men ran aloft ; the sails were loosened, and Marie 
 was carried on board the steamer half-fainting ; while 
 the gallant ship, as she felt the breeze, leaned over to 
 the impetus, and commenced her voyage over the 
 blue waters. Header perhaps you are a parent 
 it may be that you have hung over the sick couch 
 of a dear cherub, and gazed with anxious heart 
 at its sunken cheeks. You have felt the life-blood 
 leaping like lightning in its frail frame ; and marked 
 the hectic flush the glistening eye and felt the hot 
 breath as it issued from that little fever-parched mouth ; 
 and you hush your breath, and place your cheek close to 
 the little sufferer ; while the flesh shrinks in horror, and 
 the soul is sick with agony lest it be dead ! when 
 it murmurs in its delirium, "Mother!" when the 
 cricket's chirp, or the rustling of the leaf against the 
 window pane, makes you start, you scarce know 
 why ; and when its weak and helpless eyes beseech 
 you for the assisiance you " know you can not give." 
 You who have felt this, who have known a parent's 
 agony, the concentrated bitterness of that moment, can 
 feel for Marie. She turned and looked toward the 
 ship. A cloud of canvas was piled upon her yards, 
 
 6* 
 
130 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 The steamer was rushing over the water, and the dis 
 tance gradually increasing between them. Upon the 
 deck they stood ; while hands waved handkerchiefs, 
 and fond lips sent kisses on the air ; but Marie saw 
 nothing, the tears dimmed her vision ; and when the 
 party became indistinct, her head fell on the bosom of 
 Colonel Ormond, and she wept deeply and passion 
 ately ! He sat there, gazing on the now fast receding 
 vessel. A gloom was on his brow, and a sorrow on 
 his heart. 
 
 " Go, in thy glory, o'er the ancient sea, 
 
 Take with thee, gentle winds, thy sails to swell; 
 Sunshine and joy upon thy streamers be, 
 Fare thee well, bark, farewell!" 
 
 When they arrived in New Orleans, they found Tal- 
 bot ; he had come down according to the request of 
 Colonel Ormond, who was to procure him a situation 
 in some mercantile house ; which promise he perform 
 ed in the morning. 
 
 Marie retired early, and spent the night in tears. 
 Ah ! and those tears ! bitter, deep, despairing, such as 
 sear the eye-balls and melt the heart with agony. 
 Upon their arrival in the city, Colonel Ormond and 
 the doctor walked up town. In passing a hotel, they 
 were cheered by the sound of a well-known voice ; 
 and Mr. Herndon stood before them. " Ah, Ormond, 
 too late !" he said. "I learned that you have parted 
 from your children. I rode over to your place, and 
 thinking to find you ready to start, found you gone ; 
 but in your place, your relative. I came down with 
 him as I had business, hoping I would get a sight of 
 you all before you left." 
 
 " I am sorry you were disappointed, Herndon ; they 
 would have been pleased." 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 131 
 
 "How does Marie take it?" 
 
 " Badly, badly ; but grief wears off, come ; Grant 
 and myself strolled up here ; we are just going to 
 return." 
 
 The three proceeded again down town ; indulging 
 as they went in that pleasant chat common to near 
 and dear friends. 
 
 Talbot had retired, Dr. Grant and Mr. Herndon had 
 been sitting out on the door-step smoking (Ormond 
 having stolen up stairs to cheer Marie), and the subject 
 of their conversation was upon the situation of their 
 friend and Marie ; and their determination was to urge 
 with all their power his immediate and prompt action 
 in the matter, and have it consummated at once. 
 Colonel Ormond came down and joined them. 
 
 " Ormond, I am going to return to-morrow, and 
 when I meet you again, I wish you to say, ' Herndon, 
 I have relieved myself from an odium, and done what 
 my friends advised.' " 
 
 "My dear friend," replied Ormond ; "I feel grate 
 ful for your sincere disinterestedness, and appreciate 
 your friendship. I have already to-day called on a 
 legal friend, and made an appointment for ten to-mor 
 row, when I will at once take preliminary steps to 
 have this long-deferred matter closed." 
 
 " This is as it should be, Ormond," he answered, 
 rising; "and no man can feel more gratified to see 
 you disenthrall yourself from this procrastination." 
 
 " There are certain preliminary steps to be taken," 
 said Dr. Grant, " which subjects it to delay." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " I am informed that a notice has to be published 
 forty days ; and then a petition is presented to the 
 Parish Judge ; and if the person to be emancipated is 
 
132 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 not. above the age of thirty, it has to go before the 
 Police Jury first." 
 
 " Yes, I have read the same in the Civil Code ; but 
 it is mortifying to be subjected to this humiliation." 
 
 "^Tet, Ormond, can you with honor retract? Ee- 
 mernber the great interests at stake," 
 
 " True ; yet the notoriety, the shame to have my 
 domestic affairs dragged before a low crowd." 
 
 " This sensitive feeling is natural. Yet, Ormond, 
 if it is not done, there 'is a something which will surely 
 follow." 
 
 "It appears to me, that I would rather risk this 
 something after my death, than to debase those whom 
 only I live for." 
 
 " You are placed in a very unhappy situation, and 
 I see but one way to escape from it," said the doctor; 
 " and that is npt to regard the opinion of the world, 
 and go to work at once." 
 
 " Yes ; and to-morrow I will do so. I will brave 
 the opinion of the public, and place my children, and 
 the mother of my children, in a position of security 
 and independence." 
 
 " Spoken like a man!" exclaimed Herndon ; " and 
 now, let 's to bed and sleep upon it." 
 
 At ten o'clock the next day, Colonel Ormond sought 
 the office of his attorney. He was one of those pure, 
 honorable men who are above the chicanery of the 
 law, and scorn to adopt mean, debasing positions 
 to secure a client, and which are, I am sorry to say, 
 so common among the members of the profession. He 
 listened attentively to Ormond, and felt deeply for his 
 situation, for he had known him well a number of 
 years. At length Ormond stammered through his 
 painful recital. 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 133 
 
 " Well, Colonel, I do not see that the case is so dif 
 ficult. I have thought of. a method by which all the 
 disagreeable publicity of the affair may be avoided." 
 
 "Then, for God's sake, sir," exclaimed Orniond, 
 "let me know it. I will embrace any thing." 
 
 " You are aware that the thing can not be carried 
 out in this State." 
 
 " Is it possible ? Why ? How ?" 
 
 " Simply because there is a law which, in effect pro 
 hibits the manumission of persons, unless they are 
 natives of the State." 
 
 " Then, what am I to do ?" 
 
 " Nothing is easier than to go to another State, 
 where there is no prohibition." 
 
 Ormond knit his brows, and sat in silent thought for 
 sometime; at length he arose, and observed. "Mr. 
 Bland, I have an idea ; I will see you again," and shook 
 his hand. At the door of his dwelling, he met Dr. 
 Grant ; he motioned to him to walk with him, and de 
 tailed the whole conversation. 
 
 " Now, then," exclaimed the Doctor, his eyes spark 
 ling with pleasure, "I have it." 
 
 "Proceed!" 
 
 " You know that the health of my wife has been 
 bad for some time; that symptoms of pulmonary 
 disease are evident, and that I have been meditating a 
 trip to Cuba, or some more genial climate?" 
 
 " Yes, but what connection " 
 
 " Stay ! I am willing to take that trip now ; I am 
 willing to go with you to some one of the West Indies, 
 where my wife's health will be restored ; and you can 
 accomplish your object at once." 
 
 ."Doctor I" warmly exclaimed Ormond, "1 know 
 
134: THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 and appreciate your feelings and friendship, but this 
 is more than I could ask." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Ormond ! do you not see that I will 
 be delighted with the trip? suppose the health of my 
 wife is benefited, could I ask more happiness ? ISTo, 
 go and see Herndon, for though he is a devil when 
 excited, his judgment is cool and opinion soimd." 
 
 "I shall be but too happy then to take you at your 
 word." 
 
 u Then, see Marie! cheer her heart, and let us get 
 ready." Ormond took him by the hand and pressed 
 it warmly, while the tremulousness of his voice as 
 he thanked him, told him how deeply he felt. 
 
 They turned and walked back. Ormond's step was 
 light and buoyant, and freer from care than it had 
 been for many a day, for he now saw a way by which 
 he could perform a duty long delayed, and render 
 himself happy. 
 
 Early in the morning, Colonel Ormond had a long 
 and private conversation with Mr. Bland, his attorney, 
 and had declined saying any thing to Marie on the 
 subject, until he returned. He found her in the par 
 lor where she had been awaiting his return. She was 
 dressed in black, a color which becomes all persons of 
 her complexion, and she with her splendid figure, 
 showed to peculiar advantage. Her long dark hair 
 was braided across her spotless forehead, while her 
 cheeks had a slight ripe tinge of carnation, such as 
 the peach obtains by exposure to the sun's rays. 
 
 He thought he had never seen her look more beauti 
 ful as he drew her to his bosom. 
 
 "Marie, my love," he said, "I have seldom ever 
 felt in better heart than this morning. Do you know 
 that I have at length found a solution to this terrible 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 135 
 
 problem which lias so often formed the subject of con 
 versation between us ?" 
 
 " " Do you mean the matter in regard to myself and 
 our our children?" and here her voice faltered, 
 as she gazed up to him inquiringly, and the tears 
 started to her eyes at the mention of those dear ones, 
 who were now far away among strangers, upon the 
 blue waters of the Atlantic. 
 
 "Ay, Marie! it is that; I think it is now set at 
 rest." 
 
 "In what manner, Ormond?" 
 
 " Why, by a suggestion of Mr. Eland's, which has 
 marked out a course for me to pursue." 
 
 " What is it? Mr. Bland is a good-man, and I am 
 sure his advice must be so." 
 
 " Simply to leave the State to have the act of eman 
 cipation passed ; as there are many disagreeable things 
 connected with the proceeding here, which will not 
 be necessary in another place. Yet stay ! listen ! he 
 advises me to go to one of the West India islands." 
 
 " The West Indies?" 
 
 "Yes! and as soon as I mentioned it, Dr. Grant 
 nobly offered to accompany us, and as his wife is in 
 delicate health, to make her your companion." 
 
 " Oh, this is too good, too kind !" she fervently said, 
 while a holy expression of gratitude overspread her 
 features. 
 
 After some further conversation upon the subject, 
 she remarked : 
 
 " Ormond, I have often thought of the days of my 
 childhood, and a desire has lurked in my bosom to 
 revisit those spots where I was so happy, and yet 
 so miserable. Could this matter be arranged ia Mar 
 tinique ? Oh ! I see now those tall hills and waving 
 
136 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 cocoa- trees, the bright sun, and the gorgeous flowers, 
 of my native isle ; and methinks if I visit it under 
 such auspices as the present, every thing will be more 
 bright, and more beautiful than even in my child 
 hood's dream." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my own one," he said, as he looked upon 
 her with rapture, "yes, we will go to Martinique ; it 
 is a fitting place for this ceremony, and there I can, 
 and will claim you as an honored wife, before the 
 world." 
 
 " Bless you, Charles! bless you for this! for so 
 readily yielding to this whim of mine, and for it 
 know that I love you, oh, so dearly!" And she hid 
 her face in his bosom. 
 
 " You deserve it Marie," cried Ormond, returning 
 her caresses, " it is the most prudent and most pleasant 
 course." The opening of the hall-door now inter 
 rupted the conversation, and they were speedily en 
 gaged with Dr. Grant, to whom they communicated 
 the idea. He was delighted with it, and thus passed 
 the time till dinner. 
 
 "Mr. Talbot," said Colonel Ormond, at dinner, "we 
 do not intend returning to the plantation to remain, for 
 a few weeks ; the health of the doctor's wife is failing, 
 and he wishes us to accompany him on a short trip, 
 thinking it may restore her ; and as your engagement 
 has not commenced in the city, I will have to engage 
 you myself. "What do you say to it ?" 
 
 " Ah, colonel," he answered, with a smirk, " you are 
 jesting with me, you well know that if my poor serv 
 ices can avail you any thing, you are heartily wel 
 come to them." 
 
 "Bu4 I am serious, Mr. Talbot ; I have a great deal 
 of correspondence which requires my attention : now, 
 
THE CBEOLE ORPHANS. 137 
 
 what I propose is, for you until our return, to act as 
 my private secretary." 
 
 " With pleasure, colonel, I will." 
 
 "Your services shall not go unrewarded, Mr. Tal- 
 bot. I have sugar to ship,, and that will also be your 
 business." 
 
 " Any thing, sir, I will attend to." 
 
 " Well,, then, that is settled, and you had best return 
 with us." 
 
 After dinner he approached Talbot. "Well, Mr. 
 Talbot, as our engagement now commences, and money 
 may not be over plenty, here is a check for a small 
 sum which you may find of use during my absence ;" 
 and here he held out a paper. Talbot drew back, pre 
 tending great delicacy. 
 
 " Tut, tut, man, take it ; as the world goes we must 
 be supplied with the current coin ; none of this mod 
 esty take it." Talbot, apparently with great reluct 
 ance, accepted it, after offering many thanks ; but as 
 the reader knows, money was his god, his heart beat 
 fast, and his breath grew thick at the offering. 
 
 It was a happy party that evening, which assembled 
 around the fireside of Colonel Ormond. Marie and 
 Dr. Grant sat down to a game of chess ; while Mr. 
 Herndon, who had not left the city, and Colonel 
 Ormond, assisted by Talb@t, enjoyed cigars and con 
 versation. 
 
 The next evening saw them all on a steamer, wend 
 ing their way homeward. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " The sky was piled with golden clouds, 
 
 The winds were all asleep ; 
 There was no noise, save only this, 
 The breathing of the deep." 
 
 pOLOlSTEL OEMOND now set to work to arrange his 
 ^ matters, preparatory to his departure. Mr. Hern- 
 don promised to often ride over and direct the over 
 seer, if the return should be delayed, and Talbot was 
 to attend to the correspondence ; but not a word did 
 they breathe to him of the place of their destination, 
 or of its object. 
 
 A high-churchman in the city had promised to pro 
 cure letters to the Prefet Apostolique, or head of the 
 Church in the island. 
 
 "When all these little matters had been attended to, 
 he sat down calmly to await the pleasure of Marie and 
 Mrs. Grant, who, as all ladies have^had many little 
 notions of their own to arrange, which men do not 
 know any thing about. They had often met before, 
 but now they saw much of each other ; and many a 
 trip to town was made by old Pierre, who returned 
 with packages of finery for them. 
 
 Mrs. Caroline Grant had ever esteemed Marie, but 
 the questionable manner in which she lived, prevented 
 her from bestowing too much attention upon her ; now 
 she had really formed an affection for her, and, under 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 139 
 
 existing circumstances, threw off all reserve, and be 
 came her constant friend. ,i': 
 
 At length they signified to Colonel Ormond, that if 
 he pleased, he was at liberty to select a vessel for the 
 voyage. This he promptly did, by writing to his mer 
 chants, begging them to inform him of any West 
 India vessels on the point of sailing. 
 
 Not many days after this, Colonel Ormond and 
 Marie, with Dr. Grant and his wife, were standing on 
 the river-bank, and a steamer was gradually nearing 
 the shore. Mr. Herndon and Talbot were their com 
 panions, with the overseer. A feeling adieu was 
 passed between the voyageurs and Mr. Herndon. 
 Talbot came forward. Colonel Ormond placed in his 
 hand another check, saying, " Mr. Talbot, take this, 
 I may be absent longer than I anticipate, and you 
 may need it." 
 
 He drew back. 
 
 " Nay, nay, sir, consider it as a mere advance on 
 your wages ; take it !" 
 
 He hesitated, but, as Ormond thrust it in his hand, 
 received it with becoming modesty. Talbot really 
 almost felt grateful to his generous benefactor, and it 
 would have seemed to an observer, that his heart was 
 touched, as his eyes looked watery ; but this was de 
 light. At any rate, he was a little warmed ; and, as 
 Marie came up, and gave him her hand, he actually 
 squeezed out a small tear ; but it cost him an effort'. 
 
 A week passed away, and our party stepped on 
 board a beautiful brig, called the "Diadem," bound 
 for Porto Eico. There was no vessel going direct to 
 Martinique. 
 
 As they passed along the river, and gazed at the 
 princely plantations on the bank, Marie thought of 
 
140 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 the last time she had passed them, of the difference in 
 her situation and her feelings. And then Ormond was 
 so gay, and the Doctor so amusing, and her friend 
 Caroline so delightful, so kind and attentive. She felt 
 a freedom, her bosom was light with joy ; she felt a 
 happiness she had seldom ever felt before, and a glad 
 ness of heart, which was foreign to any thing sad or 
 mournful. She was on an errand of happiness, would 
 soon approach these shores an honored and a happy 
 wife, with the black stain of slavery removed from 
 her soul. They reached the Balize, and at length 
 entered on the broad waste of waters. The vessel they 
 had chosen was a new one, and her accommodations 
 were excellent. She was about two hundred tuns bur 
 den. The deck was not flush, like many vessels of 
 her class, but raised into a cabin like a ship. A net 
 work of rope, with iron stanchions, surrounded the 
 poop-deck, where several sky -lights served for seats ; 
 and when the wind was aft, or quartering, it afforded 
 a fine place for passengers to lounge. There were 
 some eight or ten other passengers. Among them was 
 a timid, fat old gentleman, from Boston, going to the 
 "West Indies on a speculation ; a grave old Don, who 
 resided in Matanzas ; and three young ladies, who had 
 been to school in Kentucky, and, under the protection 
 of the Don, were going home. There were also two 
 old women, who were piously inclined, who rolled up 
 their eyes, and quoted Scripture frequently ; they were 
 going out as missionaries somewhere to the Cannibal 
 Islands. These, and a young and agreeable Creole 
 gentleman, formed the party. All seemed desirous that 
 their short connection should be as pleasant as pos* 
 sible ; and each one appeared to be doing something 
 agreeable. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 141 
 
 Even Dr. Grant forgot to terrify the timid old mer 
 chant and the old women with stories about pirates 
 and cut-throats, raw-head and bloody bones, walking 
 the plank, and such, like concatenation of horrors, at 
 which the captain would smile, then look grave, and 
 give his assent. 
 
 The captain was a jolly old fellow, strict in his dis 
 cipline, and attentive to his duty. He was agreeable 
 to his passengers, and exercised a fatherly privilege 
 with his younger guests. He was well-stocked with 
 tales of the sea, and often kept a crowd half a night 
 breathless, listening to his yarns of adventure among 
 the islands. But it was in a clear and cloudless night, 
 when the bright stars were seen, imaged out in the 
 transparent sea, like golden drops, glowing and burn 
 ing in their bed of blue and silver then it was, with a 
 quarter breeze, and the vessel gliding without much 
 motion over the water then it was, we say, that the 
 captain would uncoil the strands of his memory, over 
 haul his log, and sit for hours puffing his cheroot, 
 making his hearers gather nearer to each other, and 
 the more timid look over their shoulders. He had 
 been taken by pirates, carried to a lonely island, and, 
 after seeing half his companions murdered, escaped in 
 company with two others, in an open boat, and had 
 been picked up five days afterward, by a vessel bound 
 to Bordeaux. He had cruised among the islands 
 before the introduction of steam, and at a time when 
 piracy was rife ; and had many a brush with them on 
 the main land. 
 
 It was such a night as we have described, with the 
 exception that a few light fleecy clouds floated about, 
 soft and downy ; or sailed along slowly, and gradually 
 melted 'into each other ; or extended into thin wavy 
 
142 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 lines, which, at length dissolved themselves into a mel 
 low, misty, silver haze, like the harmonious blending 
 of two pure and similar minds. 
 
 The captain was the center of a group, the mainsail 
 hung over the quarter, and the passengers were loung 
 ing in different attitudes ; some occupied the skylights, 
 while other leaned against the network of rope. The 
 boom being over the water, left a clear space for the 
 listeners, who were clustered around the captain. 
 
 The passengers had become well acquainted, and 
 mutually pleased. 
 
 Ormond and Dr. Grant had been amused from time 
 to time at the eagerness with which the party seemed 
 to listen to any thing which savored of the marvel 
 ous and terrible ; even Mrs. Grant and Marie had 
 caught the infection, and sat hand in hand, listening 
 in breathless attention. 
 
 "Now, captain," observed one of the young ladies, 
 " come, tell us a good story ; you know you promised 
 us at dinner that you would, if I would tell how many 
 lovers I had." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my child, so I did," replied he. 
 
 ""Well, now, captain, tell us a real pirate story," 
 chimed in another. 
 
 " Yery well; what shall it be, young ladies?" 
 
 " Oh ! a real pirate story ; a real Blackboard story." 
 
 "Very good," he replied, lighting another cigar, 
 while he threw the old stump to leeward. 
 
 " A pirate story ! Did I ever tell you how I was 
 kept in prison by the Chinese pirates, and fed on 
 pickled bull puppies, until every time I tried to talk I 
 barked? Oh! no, no. Well, young ladies, I will 
 tell you a little truth to-night." 
 
 " Oh ! that 's it, captain, give us a good one." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 143 
 
 "It was many years ago (I was younger than I am 
 now, and there were no frosty hairs among my locks) 
 that I was second mate on a fine new brig which sailed 
 from New York with a cargo of merchandise for the 
 Guiana market ; she was called the ' Sea Foam.' Oh ! 
 but she was a beauty ! and could make the sea-foam 
 fly higher than any thing on the water. She was a 
 jewel, and could make a nine-knot breeze out of a six, 
 with nothing but her jibs and topsails. Every one 
 who saw her loved her. We had been out a few 
 weeks, had cleared the Gulf Stream, run down the 
 Caribbees, and were heading toward our port, when 
 we had a storm which lasted a week. It was latitude 
 15 deg. north. We ran under double-reefed topsails 
 all the time, and kept double watch, with lanterns at 
 our peak every night. At last the storm died away, 
 and it sunk into a dead calm. We had nothing to do 
 then but get coral and fish, and we could do that easily 
 enough, as we only had five fathoms of water, and 
 could see every thing clearly at the bottom. Well, 
 our captain (and he was a most terrible hand to swear) 
 he cursed the breeze which would come up in the 
 evening, ruffle the water, and die away ; he cursed the 
 storm, and the water, and every thing not over six 
 inches high ; but as strange as it may seem, it did not 
 do a bit of good, for the calm continued. We had a 
 number of passengers on board ; among them was a 
 noble-looking Spanish gentleman and his two daugh 
 ters ; bright and lovely creatures they were too, and 
 the favorites of the whole crew, who every time they 
 came on deck would touch their hats to them and 
 bless them for their words of kindness to the poor 
 sailors. There were also several English merchants, 
 who were going home ; and there was a big fat fellow, 
 
144 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 several ugly women, and a sprinkling of Yankees.- 
 But the chief of the passengers was a young man of 
 dark features, and very handsome ; he was about thirty 
 years old, not very tall, but the most elegant man that 
 I ever saw, and of a most distinguished air. His 
 form was superb, built for strength and activity, yet 
 full of grace. His mustache gave a kind of fierceness 
 to his countenance, but when he smiled he exposed a 
 set of the most brilliant teeth I ever saw. Still it 
 was not an unpleasant smile ; it at once attracted and 
 repelled you, like the charm of the fabled snake, and 
 it gave his countenance a wild and singular expression. 
 He always wore -a suit of undress uniform, but no 
 metal button could be seen at all. When he first 
 came on board he was very reserved, and seemed per 
 fectly indifferent to all the other passengers ; but, as ^ 
 we advanced into a lower latitude, he seemed to wake 
 up. At first, he always took the starboard side of the 
 quarter-deck, and, ever keeping a cigar in his mouth, 
 would fold his arms and walk for hours ; even at night 
 he never slept as the others did, but by and by he 
 would start up, and, seizing the spy-glass, gaze with it 
 all around the horizon. 
 
 " Some of the men said he was afraid, and was look 
 ing for pirates ; but one or two shook their heads and 
 said nothing but that ' He don't look like a man that 
 is afraid of any thing.' 
 
 " The captain used to joke him often, and ask him 
 if he was looking for pirates, or his consort ; for there 
 were many pirates in the Caribbean Sea in those days, 
 even coming in sight of cruisers and then getting 
 away. The young man would smile, show his teeth, 
 and say, 'Captain, before we part we may meet one, 
 and then we will see who is most afraid, you or I.' 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 145 
 
 " When a storm came on, and when the waves burst 
 on our sides, and the vessel was in danger of broach 
 ing to, the captain, as it were, paralyzed by fear, the 
 young man seized the trumpet, and holding on by an 
 after-shroud, thundered out in real seamanlike terms 
 his orders, which electrified the whole crew, who flew 
 to execute them. When this man stood there, trum 
 pet in hand, bare-headed, with the wind howling 
 through the rigging, the vessel careening to the blast, 
 the green waves bursting over her, and everything on 
 the verge of ruin, then it was that, taking the command 
 of the vessel unasked, while the men had deserted 
 their posts, and the passengers were crouching with 
 fear, that he looked, with his hair streaming out on 
 the wind, the l Spirit of the Storm ;' then it was, I 
 say, that we saw he was no lubber, no common man. 
 And when the storm was over, and the gentle breeze 
 again wafted us pleasantly on our voyage, he sunk 
 back into the retiring man as before. But after this, 
 he began to mingle more with the passengers, and 
 ultimately was the constant attendant of the two young 
 ladies. But he seemed to have a natural antipathy to 
 the English merchants, and, notwithstanding they tried 
 every means to conciliate him, and offered to drink 
 wine with him at table, he always refused, but in a 
 pleasant, gentlemanly manner, which could not offend 
 them. But they could make no kind of impression 
 on him. The captain, too, I do believe, thought he 
 was the devil, and was very careful not to joke him 
 any more. 
 
 " About this time, there was considerable trouble in 
 the British islands ; the Eegistration Act had passed 
 which was to deprive the planters of their slaves, and 
 convert their happy homes into a ruin. The colonists 
 
 7 
 
146 THE CEEOLE OB P HANS, 
 
 could say nothing ; they were outraged, and many were 
 even trying to take their slaves away to the Spanish 
 islands, where slavery existed ; many were interrupted 
 and caught in the act, and all the islands were in a 
 state of tumult, and confusion. People were leaving 
 a ruined country ; and many poor planters we carried 
 over to the United States, with curses in their mouths 
 at this mistaken act of England, in converting one 
 of the most beautiful countries in the world into a 
 desert. 
 
 " In a few days the wind freshened, and every thing 
 was once more favorable ; we were beginning to think 
 of the end of our voyage, when one morning De 
 Montreville, as he called himself, came on deck. He 
 had in his mouth that everlasting cigar. As usual, he 
 took the spy glass, and laying it on the bulwark, took 
 a long and steady gaze. His countenance brightened 
 up ; he gave a sudden start, and again looked for some 
 time. The captain came up at that moment, ' Well, 
 captain,' he quietly remarked, ' there is a sail ; take the 
 glass, and see what you make of her.' Here that pecu 
 liar, but not unpleasant smile gathered around his 
 lips. The captain took the glass, and after a long and 
 steady look answered, * I can't make her out Mr. De 
 Montreville ; she is long and sharp, but shows ''too 
 much canvas for a merchantman ; and her yards are 
 too long. What do you make of her ?' 
 
 " The passengers had by this time gathered near, as 
 De Montreville prepared to reply. The same smile 
 played around his mouth, while the white teeth added 
 to the remarkable expression. He looked around 
 among the passengers, 'Captain,' he answered, 'it is 
 hard to say ; % she is too light for a cruiser, but she is 
 not a trader.' 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 147 
 
 " { "Well, what in the name of thunder is she then ?' 
 brusquely demanded he. 
 
 " ' How should I know ?' laughed the young man. 
 
 " ' Well, she has got a suspicious look,' answered 
 the captain, using his glass. 
 
 " ' Can she be one of those light Spanish vessels, 
 which cruize around Cuba ?' 
 
 " ' No no, she is too lofty, too much like a Yankee 
 clipper, but " added he, l it may be that crazy "West 
 Indiarnan the " Terror," which has caused so much 
 alarm among the English merchantmen for the past 
 year.' 
 
 " A light seemed to shoot from De Montreville's eyes 
 as the captain spoke these words ; and he turned say 
 ing, l What do you refer to, captain ? you are aware 
 that I am a stranger in these waters, what vessel is it, 
 called the "Terror?"' 
 
 " ' Why, you must know,' replied the old seaman, as 
 he rolled his quid in his mouth, ' that the passage of the 
 Begistration and Emancipation Act, by England, has 
 caused more discontent and trouble among the colo 
 nists, than ever was dreamed of by the framers of 
 the madman's plot ; madmen they are, for thus letting 
 loose upon a community, a nation of brutal negroes. 
 Well, thousands of families are thrown upon the 
 world homeless and penniless ; for the twenty millions 
 of pounds pretended to be given to the slaveholder 
 will never all be paid, and, if it were, it can never com 
 pensate for the unbalanced state of things which must 
 always exist ; for the negroes are the most numerous, 
 and there ever will be a clashing of interests. Among 
 the ruined families was one in which there was a high- 
 spirited youth, who did not see fit to think as his 
 rulers did, and by his actions, exposed himself to the 
 
 X 
 
148 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 anger of the government ; so he was seized, and thrown 
 *into prison, where he would have remained, if some 
 noble fellow had not lent him a hand, and he escaped. 
 The young man had been a large planter, but by some 
 wire-working among the big wigs, he got no - allow 
 ance fo!v one of the finest estates in the islands. So 
 this young fellow raises from his friends a sum of 
 money, builds and equips a fast schooner, and has 
 been playing the devil with the English ever since. 
 Nothing can take him ; he is a splendid seaman, and 
 could out-manoeuver Sir Walter Ealeigh himself. The 
 Home government, have even equipped a fast sailing 
 vessel, and she has been searching for the " Terror" 
 for months, while he has been sailing about at his' 
 leisure. I would not wonder if they caught him after 
 a while, but I hope not, for England has abused her 
 trust, and acted the traitor to them all.' 
 
 " ' Amen to that,' fervently exclaimed De Montre- 
 ville, as he caught the captain by the hand. 
 
 " * And I hope they may catch him, and hang him 
 too, for a man is never safe as long as a devil like 
 him is prowling about,' exclaimed one of the fat En 
 glish merchants. 
 
 " De Montreville turned a quick and angry glance at 
 the speaker, and replied, ' Take care, my friend, that 
 your carcass does not serve as food for fish, before 
 his.' 
 
 " The Englishman looked alarmed ; but made no 
 reply. 
 
 " ' "Well, but you have not told me your opinion of 
 the vessel, Mr. De Montreville.'' 
 
 " ' Suppose it 's the " Terror," captain?' 
 " * I would not be afraid of him, then, for he is a chap 
 of spirit, and if he is even in a bad cause, he has the 
 
T.HE CREOLE ORPHANS. 149 
 
 .soul to stick it out against the fastest British cruisers, 
 but what do you say ?' 
 
 " ' Well, I think she is a ' here he paused, and 
 looked around the crowd, and fastened his eyes on the 
 Englishmen. 
 
 "'A what r 
 
 " l A. pirate T 
 
 " l A pirate P shouted the captain, in blank amaze 
 ment, 'you are jesting; you do not believe that; I 
 know that a few pirate vessels have been reported, but 
 I always thought they kept far off, out of the cruising 
 grounds of the national vessels." 
 
 " ' Well captain,' he answered, laying down the glass 
 on the fife-rail, ' Wait till eight bells to-day, and you 
 will see if I am deceived.' 
 
 " The effect of this announcement upon the passengers 
 was startling. The Englishmen seemed horror-stricken ; 
 the fat old gentleman paced the deck in agitation, and 
 broken expressions of alarm came from his lips. At 
 last he went down into the cabin; but not finding 
 any place sufficiently capacious to conceal his bulk, he 
 came again on deck. The old Spaniard merely pressed 
 his lips firmly together, and looking first at the vessel, 
 whose top-sails now showed distinctly above the 
 horizon, and then at his two lovely daughters, who 
 stood by, with pale faces and trembling forms, ex 
 claimed, ' We can but die together, my Children :' 
 but his look expressed a deadly determination. 
 
 " De Montreville coolly lit another cigar, and walked 
 away, leaving the group almost petrified with fear. 
 He gazed at the strange sail, and when* all eyes were 
 turned to the same 'object, seemed engaged in playing 
 with the signal halliards, at the mizzen-mast ; but no 
 one could observe that he had bent on a red ball, and 
 
150 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 that it ascended to the mizzen-truck. Nor did any 
 one observe, as he gave a sudden jerk, that the thread 
 broke, and a red flag floated out sullenly at the peak. 
 
 " There was - a brass six-pound gun onboard ; and as 
 every thing had been set on the brig which would 
 draw, the attention of some of the passengers was now 
 attracted to it. The captain ordered up all the mus 
 kets and ammunition on board. The passengers who 
 had pistols or guns brought them out, and occupied 
 themselves with putting them in order. A musket 
 was pat in the hands of the timid old gentleman, and 
 he was directed to load it. 
 
 " ' Load it !' he exclaimed, holding it out at arm's 
 length ; l why, bless your soul, I never had one of the 
 things in my hand before. I don't know how to 
 load it 1' 
 
 " A general laugh followed this ; but the old fellow, 
 plucking courage, marched boldly up to where the 
 first mate was dealing out powder and ball. He 
 determined the laugh should not be on him long. 
 ' Oh ! I never used them much, I mean,' he exclaimed ; 
 1 but, when I was a young man, I was considered 
 rather a good shot.' This was spoken in so waver 
 ing and alarmed a tone that it called forth another 
 laugh. Holding the gun, as one would an eel, by two 
 fingers, he asked the mate for some ammunition. It 
 was given to him. De Montreville was standing near 
 him, and evidently enjoyed the old fellow's confusion. 
 
 " ' Come, sir,' he said ; ' I will be your instructor; 
 first, then, is your flint in good order?' 
 
 " c Ob, yes,' was the reply, as he examined it. 
 
 " * Well, then, now for the load. "Where is your 
 ball? Well down with that; so! Good! Now for 
 paper. Well, ram that down !' Here, about half an 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 151 
 
 old newspaper disappeared down' the capacious muzzle 
 of an ' old regulation? 
 
 " ' Now, for the powder. That is right in with it 
 down it goes. Now, another wad ! Eeturn ramrod ! 
 There you are ! Shoulder arms ! Now you are ready 
 for all the dead pirates in the Carribbees." 
 
 " The old gentleman thought that he had succeeded 
 admirably, and smiled with conscious pride. 
 
 " The captain was standing by during all this scene, 
 wondering' and laughing ; and when the old fellow 
 marched off with the gun on his shoulder, he said 
 
 " ' Well, De Montreville, you must be the deuse.' 
 
 " c Why, captain, when I was a young fellow, the 
 girls did say I was a devil of a fellow,' he answered, 
 laughing. 
 
 " The old Spaniard, who was a pure Castilian, spoke 
 to him. 
 
 " ' What do you think of all these preparations, sir?' 
 
 "'They are useless, sir. One broadside from that 
 vessel would blow us out of the water.' The old 
 man sighed ; and De Montreville turned again to the 
 captain, who was now standing by the brass gun, and 
 giving directions about loading it. 
 
 " ' What are you going to do with that pop-gun, 
 captain ?' he asked, smiling, contemptuously. 
 
 " * Why, defend ourselves, to be sure.' 
 
 " ' Look at that vessel !' 
 
 " He obeyed. She had by this time drawn nearer, 
 loomed larger and heavier than before ; and he could 
 now make her out to be a large schooner, under a 
 press of canvas ; and counted eight guns to a side. 
 
 "She was fast closing on them ; notwithstanding the 
 other vessel was straining every bowline and halliard^ 
 and carried every thing she had. 
 
152 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " Now, do you think it sensible to risk all your 
 passengers, and your vessel, against such odds? We 
 have the weather- gage of her, and still she overhauls 
 us as if we were a piece of sea-drift.' 
 
 The captain studied and looked confused ; he saw 
 the force of the reasoning, but could not tell what to 
 do or say. * Well, what must we do then ; give our 
 selves up, and let all our throats be cut, without raising 
 a hand in our defense ?' 
 
 " l Maybe she is the " Flying Dutchman," smiled the 
 young' man ; ' and if so, it is said if you load your gun 
 with a Bible, and blaze away at her, she will disappear 
 in a wreath of smoke. Suppose you try it.' 
 
 " ' Nonsense, De Montreville 1 What would you 
 advise me to do ?' 
 
 " * Why, compromise the matter, certainly.' 
 
 " ' How ?' 
 
 " ' By giving her what she asks.' 
 
 " { What do you think she wants?' 
 
 " * Why, our lives, our money, our goods, and every 
 thing.' 
 
 " ' Then, we might have the fun of shooting at her 
 a few times first, if we have to give up every thing 
 any how.' 
 
 " 'What amount of specie have you got on board?' 
 
 " The captain glanced suspiciously at him, and 
 quickly asked, 
 
 " ' How did you know there was any specie on 
 board?' 
 
 " ' Why, I must be blind if I were not to notice the 
 frequent visits of those English merchants to the hold ; <, 
 their anxious looks, and those fondling of kegs marked 
 " hardware," and above all, their arrogant bearing.' 
 
 11 'Well, you are a close observer, certainly; but I 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 153 
 
 did not suppose any one knew of the existence of that 
 specie on board, except them and myself." 
 
 " ' How much is there ?' 
 
 " ' Two hundred thousand dollars.' 
 
 " ' Yes ; well, you will only lose that.' 
 
 " ' Do you think so ?' 
 
 " { Yes, that is all ; you may depend on it. You 
 will see Cape Cod again.' 
 
 " * If I thought that was all they would take I would 
 not feel so uneasy ; but it's pretty hard on them. I 
 hate these puffed up English anyhow.' 
 
 " ' Do you know how they made it?' 
 . " 'No, I do not.' 
 
 " ' Well, I do. They made it by supplying British 
 slavers with merchandise, and money, and men, and 
 then by assisting them to dispose of their slaves in 
 return, to Brazilian planters, sailing under Portuguese 
 colors.' 
 
 " c How do you know that ?' 
 
 " ' I have seen them in their operations ; and these 
 are the men who have caused so much trouble in the 
 United States. These are the men who are preaching 
 a crusade against the Southern States, with their hands 
 fresh dyed in the blood of the slave. These are the 
 men whose means go to build up the slave-trade, 
 against which their voices are raised so loudly.' 
 
 " ' British slave dealers ! thunder ! Well, if it is so, 
 I don't know but it would be as well for them to lose 
 it all.' ^ 
 
 " During all this time, the strange vessel had been 
 drawing nearer ; and her decks, covered with men, 
 were seen without the aid of a glass. Every one ob 
 served the indifference of De Montreville, and the 
 
 7* 
 
154 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 carelessness with which he conversed ; and it gave a 
 tone of confidence to all around. 
 
 " ' There goes her flag,' said he, as an ensign floated 
 out from, her peak. 
 
 " c Can you make it out ?' asked the captain, gazing 
 earnestly at the flag as it flapped against the gaff. 
 
 "'Yes,' he replied; -'it is a red ground; a black 
 slave kneeling ; and a drawn sword.' 
 
 " ' It is the " Terror," ' exclaimed the captain, loudly, 
 while the English appeared much alarmed. 
 
 " ' Oh, if it should not be an enemy after all 1' ex 
 claimed one of the young ladies, * what a fine joke it 
 would be.' 
 
 " ' Yes ; but it is an enemy.' 
 
 "'Do you think so?' 
 
 " 1 1 know it.' 
 
 " ' What are the signs ?' 
 
 " 'Many : the flag is one, her actions are one, and 
 her silence ' 
 
 " The exhibition of the red flag now floating out, and 
 displaying itself fully, had caused a degree of conster 
 nation to all on board ; and a great commotion was 
 observed. 
 
 " The captain came aft, where De Montreville was 
 standing. * Sure enough,' said he, ' your conjecture 
 was right. "What are we to do ?' 
 
 " ' Why, the best we can. You have answered her 
 signal,' he continued, casting his eyes up. The cap 
 tain looked also in the direction he pointed, and there, 
 at the peak of the brig, floated a similar flag to the 
 one exhibited by the schooner. A look of blank 
 amazement sat upon the countenance of the sailor, as 
 he asked in a faltering tone, 
 
THE CREOLE .ORPHANS. 155 
 
 " How in the name of Creation did that flag get 
 there?' 
 
 " ' Why, I presume it was hoisted there. 7 
 
 " ' Did you see any one do it ?' 
 
 " 'Not I: ask some of your crew. It is not my 
 place to be your quarter-master.' 
 
 " The men were called aft, one and all ; and swore 
 that they did not hoist it, and saw no one do it. The 
 passengers all testified to the same thing. Here was a 
 nice state of things. 
 
 " ' I am bewitched,' cried the captain, in a rage ; ' no 
 one knows how a flag is hoisted on the vessel. Every 
 thing is mysterious out of the course of nature ; and 
 I do believe the " Spirit of the Sea" is abroad. No one 
 knows how that devil's rag got up there ; then there 
 it shall stay ; and if we go to the bottom, it shall go 
 with us, flying at the peak.' 
 
 " The old seamen shook their heads, and cast a sus 
 picious glance at the bloody flag which waved gloom* 
 ily over head, as if placed there by the ' Demon of 
 the Sea.' 
 
 " The chase was now within a mile and a half of the 
 brig, and rapidly nearing. All hands stood and gazed 
 at her approach, in stupid wonder and alarm. 
 
 " In a moment more, a wreath of smoke curled from 
 one of her forward ports, the sharp crack of a gun 
 vibrated on the air, and a shot whistled ahead of the 
 brig. They had been heading to the south-west, but 
 changed her course a point, as the brig changed hers. 
 In working the vessel, the men went slowly, and with 
 reluctance, to their duty. The affair of the flag had 
 been evidently preying on their minds, and with their 
 natural superstition, they yielded to an influence which 
 
156 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 they dared not grapple with. They at once attributed 
 the elevation of the flag to supernatural agency. 
 
 " ' That is a signal which you had best not disregard, 
 captain/ remarked De Montreville. 
 
 " He hesitated a moment, and then replied, that as 
 there was no other course left for him to pursue, he 
 supposed he must obey ; and, accordingly, orders 
 were given to shorten*sail. As the sails were quiver 
 ing in the winds, and the headway checked through 
 the water, the schooner drew nearer, and her sailing 
 qualities were more perceptible. The maintopsail was 
 laid to the mast, and she remained stationary, merely 
 drifting along. The schooner was within a quarter of 
 a mile of the brig, and as she neared her, the men 
 were distinctly seen through the open ports ; she gently 
 fell off the wind, and lay with her sails shivering. Fe 
 rocious faces, covered with shaggy beards of months 7 
 growthj scowled upon them through the ports, and 
 over the hammock nettings, while her long Spanish 
 guns were terrible to behold, as they protruded threat 
 eningly from their ports ; seemingly only awaiting a 
 signal to open a volcano of flame and iron from their 
 dark mouths. As they lay in this position, an officer 
 sprang into the mizen rigging of the schooner with a 
 trumpet. When near enough, a hoarse hail was 
 brought over the water. 
 
 " ' What vessel is that ?' 
 
 " ' Shall I reply, sir ?' asked De Montreville, seizing 
 the trumpet. 
 
 " ' Ay, ay ! do, sir.' 
 
 " He stepped to the rigging, and, mounting a few 
 rattlins, answered: l Brig " Sea Foam," from New 
 York, for Guiana.' 
 
 " A murmur of voices was heard, at first like the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 157 
 
 faint moan of the sobbing waves upon the sandy shore, 
 then louder, as if those waves had been awakened ; it 
 rose louder, and then swelled into a deafening cheer. 
 It ceased, and again it rose on the breeze. Again it 
 died away, and once more that cheer ascended loud 
 and long from the schooner. All looked in astonish 
 ment at each other. De Montreville alone was calm. 
 When the cheers arose, and the sea and air re-echoed 
 to the sound, he smiled, and, ah ! that smile ! how sig 
 nificant and full of meaning ! and his lips curled, as if 
 in pride or scorn. A few minutes more, and a fully 
 manned and armed boat was seen to shove off from 
 the schooner, and approach the brig. Each soul waited 
 breathless, and in silence. It pulled around to the 
 starboard side, and an officer stepped over the gang 
 way. A half look of recognition passed between him 
 and De Montreville, which the latter instantly checked 
 by a slight frown. The officer then walked up to the 
 captain, and asked for the brig's papers. These were 
 brought out, and placed on the capstan. He advanced, 
 and took them up. The crowd of passengers was, by 
 this time, all huddled together in a group near the 
 break of the poop, conversing in a low tone of voice, 
 all except the old Spaniard, who stood with a pistol 
 in each hand, between the stranger and his two 
 daughters. 
 
 " ' These are all right, captain,' remarked the lieu 
 tenant, with a smile, as he checked off certain items 
 with a pencil ; ' and now, will you oblige me by hav 
 ing hoisted up from the hold those kegs containing 
 " hardware?"' 
 
 " * You said so,' observed the captain to De Montre 
 ville, ' and now I believe you are the devil or ' 
 
 " * The commander of that vessel,' replied he, laugh- 
 
158 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 ing. * Yes, ladies and gentlemen,' he added, as lie 
 turned to the surprised crowd ; { you see before you 
 the first officer of that vessel. Nay, start not ! no harm 
 is intended ; we will only relieve the gentlemen of that 
 specie, which they can easily replace out of the first 
 cargo of slaves ; and then depart in peace. Come, to 
 work !' 
 
 " The captain of the brig appealed to the passen 
 gers to sustain him, and to bear witness that he was 
 forced to yield to the power of arms. Upon the order 
 being repeated, the brig's men went to work to hoist 
 out the heavy kegs, and they soon appeared on deck. 
 The Englishmen protested loudly against, the act, and 
 begged most piteously that he would not allow his 
 men to proceed in their labors. He turned a deaf ear 
 to their cries. They then informed him that the money 
 was not considered strictly a portion of the cargo, but 
 as private baggage. At length the money was all out, 
 and to their importunities he at length replied, 
 
 " ' I choose to think as I please ; I am the enemy of 
 every thing English. She has been to me a harsh and 
 cruel mother. My ancestors were the possessors of 
 fair lands and broad domains ; they had appertained to 
 them for centuries, their fields teemed with golden 
 grain, and their meadows were filled with flocks and 
 herds ; England with her corrupt ministers, hypocriti 
 cal divines, her unjust judiciary, and dishonest peers, 
 have framed laws to swindle and defraud. One of my 
 ancestors was an adherent to the cause of .that most 
 unfortunate person, Prince Charles Edward, and when 
 he landed in Scotland he joined him there ; he was 
 with him in his troubles, and sheltered him in his 
 mansion ; he remained faithful to him in his adversity, 
 and took leave of him when he sailed for France. For 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 159 
 
 this, our family estates were confiscated ; our honor 
 able house broken up, and driven forth wanderers and 
 penniless. I have visited our ancient "birthplace ; the 
 fox burrows in the vaults, the lizzard casts its noisome 
 slime over the walls, the owl sends forth her dismal 
 cr y from its towers, and all is desolation and decay ; I 
 have descended into the vaults where the bones of my 
 forefathers lie, and I have sworn by them to be avenged. 
 
 " ' My father died a broken-hearted wanderer. But 
 this is not all ; fortune smiled, and a beautiful home 
 was ours in the islands, now made hideous by the bar 
 barous negro, by this most unjust act of England, in 
 giving freedom to so many savages ; and again were we 
 driven forth, wanderers again ; I was seized, my limbs 
 were ironed, our lovely island home was desolated, and 
 in ruins, and I in British irons, and for what? Why 
 for merely urging upon my fellow sufferers, to refuse 
 to sanction such an act of injustice. For this am I 
 the enemy of England, and every thing that is Eng 
 lish ! With her and me there is no reconciliation ; in 
 war and peace I am the same. This is the cause of 
 my present position. Come Mr. Squillgee,' he said, 
 turning to the coxswain of the boat, * get those kegs off.* 
 
 " There was now seen another boat pushing off from 
 the schooner ; it was the launch, and filled with men 
 also. When it came alongside, the kegs of specie 
 were handed down into her, and she prepared to re 
 turn. The Englishmen looked with wistful eyes at the 
 departing boat, and sighed. The steward of the brig 
 was passing at this moment with several bottles of wine. 
 De Montreville beckoned him, and taking one from 
 him, ordered a glass. This was brought, * Now cap 
 tain,' I will drink your health, and ; yours my friends,' he 
 added looking toward the other passengers. Here he 
 
160 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 struck the neck of the bottle against the capstan, and 
 as it flew off, the red wine was spilt on the deck, ' That 
 is the only blood I ever have shed,' he said as he pour 
 ed out a brimming glass. Come, cheer up my heart 
 ies!' he exclaimed, addressing the Englishmen, 'you 
 little thought when you were abusing the captain of 
 the " Terror," that he was before you. Suppose I 
 treat you now, as you wished me served ; but never 
 fear ; he laughed as he saw consternation depicted on 
 their countenances, ' I won't hang you this time ; we 
 will meet again. Keep up a good heart, you will soon 
 make up what you have lost. There are plenty more 
 of your country men wanting outfits for slave voyages.' 
 Then turning to the Spanish girls he said, l Am I so 
 very terrible a pirate after all ?' 
 
 " Just at this moment a voice sung out forward * sail 
 ho !' All hands sprung in the direction pointed out. 
 It was on the starboard bow. The captain directed 
 the glass in that quarter, and after a moment exclaim 
 ed, * It is a heavy vessel.' De Montreville took the 
 glass, and then as he laid it down, quietly said, 'you 
 are right, captain ; it is a large and heavy vessel, it is a 
 British frigate.' All eyes were directed to his counte 
 nance as he said this, but not a trace of emotion could 
 be seen ; all was as calm as a summer sea. There was 
 an agitation, and whispering among the English, who 
 were standing some distance off. 
 
 " De Montreville smiled, and turned to the captain, 
 1 yes, captain, you will be compelled to follow the re 
 quest of those gentlemen ; you must communicate 
 your loss to that British cruiser.' 
 
 " The captain looked surprised, while, as he spoke in a 
 loud voice the English started, and seemed confused and 
 alarmed ; for that was the subject of their conversation. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 161 
 
 " l Well, if you see the commander of .that frigate, 
 present my respects, and tell him to catch me, if he can." 
 He remained a few minutes longer, then, bidding a 
 courteous farewell to the passengers, followed the 
 lieutenant into the boat. The captain went to the 
 gangway : * Hold on a moment,' he said, ' I shall 
 never be satisfied, until I find out how you knew there 
 was specie in those kegs ?' 
 
 " ' Oh,' answered he laughing, ' that is easy enough, 
 
 I was in the agent's office when the arrangement was 
 made in New York ; but I knew it was to be shipped 
 before you arrived in New York, on your last trip, 
 from my agent in Demerara.' 
 
 " ' Then,' replied the captain, 'you are not the devil 
 after all.' 
 
 " ' Not a bit of it.' 
 
 " The boat shoved off, and a few minutes' sturdy pull 
 ing, brought them to the schooner ; the falls were 
 hanging over the boom, ready for the boat, and tackle 
 ready to hook ; the boat was soon hauled up, sail 
 made on the schooner, and when the sun was sinking, 
 her hull was not visible to the brig, or frigate, which 
 had by this time come into view ; and only a few 
 white specks were seen, like the wing of a sea bird on 
 the horizon." 
 
 " Oh beautiful ! beautiful I" exclaimed all the ladies, 
 
 II it would make quite a delightful novel if you only 
 had put a little love in it." 
 
 "Well, I am glad you like it," he answered, "for 
 this is the only pirate story I can tell to-night ; I must 
 go and write up my log-book, and take a lunar observ 
 ation." So saying he arose, and throwing his cigar 
 over the taffrail, passed forward, calling all hands to 
 change watch. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " The morning watch was come ; the vessel lay 
 Her course, and gently made her liquid way ; 
 The cloven billows flashed from off her prow 
 In furrows formed by that majestic plow." 
 
 THE ISLAND. 
 
 rPHE next 'day, about noon, the blue mountains 
 * which intersect Porto Eico, appeared in sight like 
 azure clouds on the horizon. 
 
 In nearing the island, they were charmed at the 
 extreme verdure which covered the rocks rising per 
 pendicularly from the water. The tall cocoa-nut and, 
 palm-trees, arose straight and slender on the terraced 
 heights ; and the white villas embowered in bananas, 
 formed a scene of extreme beauty and fertility. As 
 they passed along the shore, peaceful and quiet vil 
 lages appeared at the foot of the niountains which 
 were clothed with dark green forests, and whose sum*" 
 mits seemed to reach the clouds/ The town of San 
 Juan on the northern side, the port to which the ves 
 sel was consigned, was in sight, built on a fine high 
 eminence on the end of the peninsula. 
 
 The vessel entered the harbor just at sunset, and as 
 the evening gun was fired from the fort. The Spanish 
 authorities came on board before the anchor was drop 
 ped, and no permits were given to land that evening. 
 
 Colonel Ormond learned from them that there was 
 a French vessel to sail in the morning for the Caribbees ; 
 this gave him great pleasure, and by the aid of a small 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 163 
 
 golden present, the official undertook to convey to 
 the master of the craft a note desiring him to remain 
 until they could be allowed to change to it in the 
 morning. 
 
 There were a good many vessels in the harbor, and 
 it pleased our friends to see the " stars and stripes" 
 floating among them, and to hear the sweet familiar 
 language of home, ever and anon arising amid the 
 confusion of tongues. 
 
 The passengers gathered on deck and passed the 
 evening in pleasant conversation, in exchanging cour 
 tesies, and amusing each other with tales } in which 
 the captain bore a conspicuous part. 
 
 The moon, just then a slender crescent arose, and 
 threw a tinge of silver upon the town, the shipping, 
 and the harbor ; and the evening breeze ruffled the 
 water, causing tiny wavelets* which formed a sweet 
 and soothing music. The distant sounds softened by 
 the space between the vessel and the town, the bursts 
 of laughter from the forecastles of the different crafts 
 in port, the light song, the big round oath and the 
 tinkling of a guitar, all spoke a new and strange shore ; 
 and these mingled with the creaking of rudders, the 
 rattle of cordage and swaying of the spars, the hail of 
 e< Who goes there ?" and " Qui vive I" from the sentries, 
 and the tap of the drum from the fort, the noise of 
 turning out the guard, and the cry of the guard on 
 the mole ; all told of strange sights aad sounds to be 
 seen and heard. 
 
 In the morning, the Custom-house officer came on 
 board, gave our passengers permission to depart and 
 exchange vessels. This was welcome news, the cap 
 tain' had his own boat manned, and took them over 
 himself to the French schooner. The master of the 
 
164: -THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 vessel had signified Ms consent previously to receive 
 them. 
 
 The parting with the old captain was affecting. 
 
 " Blast my eyes !" he exclaimed, as he shoved off; 
 " I have followed the salt water for many years and 
 made many a voyage, and had many a bright-eyed 
 passenger, but none I liked as well as I do these." 
 Dr, Grant threw a handful of silver into the boat 
 among the men, and his liberality was greeted by 
 cheers from them. The other passengers expressed 
 great regret at the separation, and many kind invita 
 tions were extended to our party to visit them. 
 
 " "Well," exclaimed the doctor, as he yawned and 
 looked around, after having the baggage stowed in 
 the cabin, and the ladies made comfortable. "Here 
 we are, regular citizens of the glorious United .States, 
 taking a cruise among the cannibals of the Caribbee 
 Islands ; a perfect wild goose-chase, and if we get 
 back safe and sound it will be a wonder. Who would 
 have thought it a fortnight ago ?" 
 
 "Well, doctor," laughed Ormond, "take it easy, 
 we will get back safe, and it will do to talk about 
 over our wine and cigars." 
 
 "(Ji, dear Louisiana! with your civilization and 
 refinement; a man never knows how to appreciate 
 you until he leaves your fertile shores." 
 
 "Why, doctor, you are getting quite sentimental!" 
 exclaimed Marie'; "but see, there comes our captain ; 
 we are about to sail." 
 
 The commander in truth now came forward and 
 welcomed them, apologized for his poor accommoda 
 tions, but hoped for a speedy trip. 
 
 Ormond repliedj and assured him that they were suf 
 ficient, and that the obligations they were under would 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 165 
 
 counterbalance any inconvenience they were subjected 
 to. He bowed and smiled as only a Frenchman can, 
 and left them to get his craft under weigh. 
 
 When this was done, he had an awning rigged, and" 
 a hammock swung ; wine was brought, and the time 
 passed very pleasantly. The land breeze had sprung 
 up, with it the sails of the vessel swelled out, and they 
 swiftly left the harbor. They passed the island of St. 
 Thomas, and before night the high land of Santa Cruz 
 had sunk into the ocean. 
 
 It was on the morning of the third day that the 
 mountains of Martinique Avere seen, a blue line on the 
 water, and among them were the Montagne Pelee, 
 whose top seemed tipped with silver. 
 
 Ever since their departure from Louisiana, the 
 health of Mrs. Grant had appeared to improve. She 
 was no longer affected with that difficulty of breathing 
 which characterizes persons suffering under pulmonary 
 disease ; the hectic flush had departed, strength seemed 
 to be almost restored, and her appetite heretofore ca 
 pricious and variable, appeared to have returned. She 
 no longer required the support of the doctor, but 
 seemed in all respects benefited. He was delighted ; 
 and when she took his hand and fondly smiled saying, 
 " Doctor, I believe your l wild-goose chase' will effect 
 a cure in your invalid," none were more pleased than 
 his two friends, and he turned off with a full heart 
 and a prayer of thankfulness trembling on his lips. 
 
 As they approached the coast of the island, the 
 land seemed to rise and gradually become -elevated to 
 the mountains, which occupy the center. A dense 
 forest extended up their sides, and high up in the 
 region of the clouds could be seen the white villas 
 glittering in the sunbeams. 
 
166 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Upon the Bay of Port Koyal stands the town of the 
 same name. 
 
 When it became visible, Marie was standing by the 
 bulwarks, gazing toward the land, and an indescriba 
 ble feeling pervaded her soul. Before her lay the 
 place of her nativity, of her childhood's happiness, 
 and of her sorrows. In the cemetery lay the bones of 
 her sire ; but, ah ! her mother, that gentle being whose 
 pitying eye and loving hand had guided her infant 
 footsteps ; where was she ? It was true that she 
 scarcely remembered her, that only a dim vision of 
 soft hands, gentle caresses, and tender words floated 
 through her memory ; but she knew that the ocean's 
 briny wave hoarsely sung her dirge, and that in its 
 coral caves and wreaths of sea- weed her bones lay un- 
 sanctified. But she remembered the laughing rivulet 
 which came dashing down the mountain slope in the 
 rear of the garden ; she remembered the tall cocoanut- 
 trees waving their broad leaves in the tropical air, the 
 mango skirting the stream, and dipping its long 
 branches, loaded with golden clusters of ripe fruit, in 
 the cool water ; and the bright- winged birds too, and 
 the flowering shrubs, all these were too faithfully re 
 membered. 
 
 Again, her departure from home for France; the 
 years of kindness from the good ladies of the convent, 
 the agonizing news of her mother's loss, and her re 
 turn to her island home. 
 
 She remembered the little cottage of her aunt, in 
 which sh^then dwelt, at the foot of the hill, where 
 she, a beauteous and artless maiden, gathered shells, 
 made fairy bowers, laved her fair arms in the crystal 
 stream, twined flowers in her dark hair, and dreamed 
 of a love which she had never felt. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 167 
 
 Ay! and she remembered her kind old aunt; and 
 old " Juba," the slave, who used to fix out her borders 
 of flowers ; and the visit of Berwick, the black-hearted 
 fiend, who, undej the guise of kindness, visited their 
 little cot, and prevailed on her relative to allow Marie 
 to accompany them to Jamaica. She recalled the de 
 light it gave her when preparing, and the voyage, the 
 kindness of Berwick and his wife. 
 
 But, ah ! she did not forget the termination of that 
 voyage, the agony and the horror, the deathlike stu 
 pefaction which took possession of her, when she was 
 coolly informed by him that she was to be sold as a 
 slave, her prayers and tears, and the cruel taunts of 
 the devil who laughed at her misery. JSFo, nor did 
 she forget the slave-mart where she was put up and 
 sold, and saw the gold counted out for her. 
 
 She never could forget these things; they were im 
 printed in her memory, and seared in her brain as 
 with a hot iron, which left its indelible mark forever. 
 
 But she remembered the kind words which Ormond 
 spoke to her, for it was. his words of kindness and pity 
 which had found an echo in her breast ; those kind 
 words which had, like a gentle south wind, touched 
 the strings of her soul's harp, and called forth sweet 
 and soothing tones, and made her love and trust in 
 him. 
 
 Such were the feelings which filled the soul of Marie, 
 and wrapt her mind in its own recollections, as sjie 
 leaned against the bulwarks and gazed toward the 
 bright isle. 
 
 Ormond stood by her side ; but he was silent. He 
 imagined the intensity of her mind's workings ; that 
 her feelings were wrought up to the highest pitch ; 
 that her thoughts were too sacred for interruption 
 
168 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 and he was silent ; but his spirit communed with hers 
 as he stood by her, and he also gazed at the land which 
 they were rapidly nearing that land 
 
 " Which wooed him, whispering lovely tales 
 Of many a flowering glade, 
 And founts' bright gleam in island-vales, 
 Of golden-fruited shade." 
 
 They approached the harbor and entered it about 
 midday, between Forts Bourbon and Louis, frowning 
 on them, and the tricolored flag of France waving on 
 the breeze. There was no opposition to their imme 
 diate disembarkation, and they left the vessel at once. 
 
 As Mrs. Grant was considerably fatigued, they took 
 up their residence at the ariberge premier of the town. 
 Their rooms were large and airy, a spacious covered 
 balcony overlooking the bay, and the sea or land 
 breeze ever blowing, which rustled the colored muslin 
 curtains pleasantly. Cool India matting covered the 
 floors, and vases of flowers, which gave out their fra 
 grance, were placed around the room, and fans of 
 woven grass to cool the heated atmosphere. On the 
 whole, it was extremely novel and delightful, and the 
 females now reposed themselves after the fatigues of 
 the voyage. 
 
 Colonel Ormond and the doctor took a ramble ; 
 they wondered at the antique cast of the buildings, 
 and made their remarks on the unusual sights which 
 presented themselves, at the costumes of the people, 
 the merchants, soldiers, Creoles and beggars, with a 
 sprinkling of negroes. 
 
 Colonel Ormond inquired of an aged Creole at the 
 market, if he remembered the person of an old Creole 
 woman named De Lange, who was Marie's aunt, and \ 
 who formerly lived in the rear of the town ? 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 169 
 
 The old man thoughtfully replied, " Indeed, mon 
 sieur, I do remember an old lady of the name, who 
 lived at the foot of the mountain ; but years have 
 passed since she has been dead. It is difficult to re 
 member persons in this country ; the changes have 
 been great; so many different rulers have we had, 
 and so often has the flag of England waved over 
 us, that many of our old citizens are dead or re 
 moved." ' 
 
 He replied, " We are strangers here ; I have a letter 
 for the Prefet Apostolique. Can you direct me to his 
 residence?" 
 
 u Certainly, monsieur," answered the obliging old 
 man, and walking on before for some distance, he 
 pointed out a large building on a square: "-There, 
 monsieur, his reverence lives. Ah ! and he is a holy 
 and good man !" He paused ; they thanked him, and 
 passed on. 
 
 The palace of the prefect, or the superior ecclesiastic 
 of the island, was situated on one side of a square, 
 fronting some public buildings, and near the cathedral. 
 As they passed the door of the mansion they observed 
 a good many persons in waiting; hence they con 
 cluded to defer their visit until the following day. 
 
 It is not our intention to give a minute detail of 
 their actions here. Our time must be occupied with 
 more absorbing themes. 
 
 That evening a ramble was proposed ; the whole 
 party sallied out, and turned their footsteps to the sub 
 urbs of the town, where the beauty of the villas of 
 the foreign merchants embowered in foliage invited 
 them to linger. Thence, at the instance of Marie, they 
 sauntered toward the old quarter of the town ; ghe 
 hoped to see the residence of her childhood as it was 
 
170 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 once ; and yet she half wished that she might be dis 
 appointed, as in truth she was; the mountain slope 
 was the same, and there was even one old familiar 
 palm-tree, but the home which had sheltered the youth 
 ful Marie, was gone, and in its place, arose the proud 
 dwelling of an English merchant; innovation Was 
 even here. Progress, in this far off clime, had raised 
 her head. All was changed ; the little stream which 
 once had run so merrily, keeping . time, in' its silver 
 murmurs, with the clear and bell-like voice of Marie, 
 was choked up, and gone ; its bed was dry ; there was 
 no familiar spot to the eye ; even the little birds, her 
 playmates and friends, were fled ; her flowers disap 
 peared, she felt like a stranger in her childhood's home ; 
 she hea.ved a deep sigh, and turned sorrowfully away. 
 
 The next morning Colonel Ormond alone walked 
 to the Palazzo of the head churchman. There were as 
 usual a great many persons in waiting ; among them 
 could be noticed an officer or two of the French army 
 and others, who seemed to wait the pleasure of this 
 functionary. The arrival of Colonel Ormond attract 
 ed unusual attention, and he had to undergo the scru 
 tiny of a dozen pairs of eyes. 
 
 He had not long to wait after sending in his card 
 and letter. He had anticipated rather a haughty re 
 ception from the churchman, from the aristocratic state 
 which surrounded him ; but what was his agreeable 
 surprise, upon being ushered into his presence, in a 
 small room fitted up as a cabinet, to find a gentlemanly, 
 urbane person, apparently about sixty years of age, 
 who received him as a fond father would a son. 
 
 He arose, and met him with extended hands. 
 
 ." My son," he said, in the most bland manner, " I 
 am glad to be able to meet you ; and how did you 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 171 
 
 leave our worthy friend ?" lie added, tapping the let 
 ter which he held open in his hand. 
 
 Ormond assured him of the good health of his cor 
 respondent. A chair was placed, and he was requested 
 to sit down. 
 
 " You must not think," he said, smiling, " that we 
 are hard to approach, because of the mode we do bus 
 iness ; for there is a great deal of work for us ; and 
 we have to reduce it to a system." There were sever 
 al priests in the room, with whom it appeared his 
 business was concluded, for he delivered to them 
 several papers, and terminated his discourse in a low 
 tone. 
 
 While thus engaged, Ormond had an opportunity 
 to make a few observations. The room in which they 
 were in, overlooked a court-yard; in the center of 
 which, a fountain threw up its crystal jet of water, and 
 falling again, burst into a little shower of spray, that 
 imparted a delicious coolness to the atmosphere. A 
 border of dark mold surrounded the fountain, and a 
 thick circle of rich flowering shrubs, lent a sweetness 
 to the air, which even penetrated the study wherein he 
 sat. 
 
 A row of arched doors bounded the prospect. 
 
 The room itself was furnished plainly. In a niche 
 in the wall, was an ivory statuette of Jesus, and oppo 
 site, one of the same material of Mary, while on an 
 other portion hung a splendid painting of Christ bear 
 ing his cross ; which Ormond, as a dear lover of the 
 beautiful, knew to be from none other than an Italian 
 hand. 
 
 On the other side, hung a large map of the French 
 West Indies ; and a rosary of silver was suspended 
 beneath it. A small cabinet of rich workmanship was 
 
172 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 placed on one side, and appeared to be filled with pa 
 pers. 
 
 The Prefect now arose, and as the priests withdrew, 
 he approached our friend. 
 
 " Mj son, I again welcome you, and must ask, Is 
 there aught in which our poor services can avail 
 you?"- 
 
 Pleased with his mildness ; and suavity of manner, 
 Ormond, as he gazed at the venerable prelate, felt an 
 instinctive love and reverence for him. 
 
 " Father," he replied at once but at first in rather 
 a confused, and embarrassed manner, " My story is long, 
 and I fear will tire your good nature." 
 
 " Proceed my son, speak freely, let naught restrain 
 you," he said, drawing a chair close to his side. 
 
 Ormond began, and gave him a history of the ab 
 duction of Marie, her sale as a slave, and of her pur 
 chase ; his connection with her, the birth of his chil 
 dren, his present situation and wishes in regard to her, 
 the reason why he did not wish to make the matter 
 public in Louisiana ; and of his views and wishes in 
 regard to Marie. 
 
 When he first commenced, the ecclesiastic fixed his 
 large dark eyes on his couxftenance with an interest in 
 his story ; but, as he proceeded, the Prefect gave a 
 slight start ; and riveted his gaze more intently, and 
 with a melancholy interest upon him. 
 
 He heard him through without interruption, and 
 when he had finished, replied : 
 
 " My son, you are impelled by honor to make this 
 reparation ; it is a noble sentiment ; and also I hope, 
 by a belief in your responsibility to society, and a de 
 sire to obey the word of Grod, which encourages mat 
 rimony. You have been very neglectful, but at the . 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 173 
 
 eleventh hour, it is not even too late. Your views are 
 high and virtuous, and your purpose sincere ; your 
 wishes are natural, to protect those whom God has 
 given to you. But your story has awakened a train 
 of memories, which, had they never been retouched, 
 would have gradually faded into dusty oblivion. I 
 dare not even now, until I have had time to collect my 
 thoughts, and consult papers, say more to you, but 
 I may say to you. I believe God has sent you to me. 
 Oh, how wonderful are his ways !" 
 
 So meaning were the looks of the priest, and so 
 strange his words, that Ormond felt an awe which he 
 could not account for stealing over him, and a thou 
 sand impressions were scattered confusedly through his 
 mind. He scarcely knew what to think, but one ques 
 tion was ever foremost. " Has he ever heard of Marie 
 before ? Does he know any thing of the history of 
 her parents ?" 
 
 The Prefect remained silent a few moments in a 
 musing attitude ; then looking up, he said : 
 
 " In case you have to carry into effect your views 
 regarding the emancipation, it will be simple. There 
 must be prepared a petition, in which you must state 
 your wishes; as the same law rules here that is in 
 force in Louisiana. When this is presented to the 
 judge, and there is no opposition, letters of manumis 
 sion are granted. There will be a delay of twenty 
 days. But, my son, since you have come to me, I 
 have had old recollections aroused, and it may be that 
 I have the key to your happiness in my hands." 
 
 Ormond started. " Nay, my son ! be not too san 
 guine. I bid you not even to hope ; but come to me 
 at twelve the day after to-morrow, at this place, and 
 perchance, I may be the means of giving you some 
 
174 THE CREOLE 
 
 joyful tidings." Ormond arose; lie was bewildered. 
 The words' of the venerable man had excited his hopes ; 
 and he wished, he hardly knew what ; but he bade 
 him adieu with a full and grateful heart, and hastened 
 to rejoin his friends. 
 
 To Dr. Grant he narrated faithfully all the circum 
 stances attending his interview. 
 
 " "Well, Ormond, something will come of it, sure. 
 I am glad we have come." 
 
 The time passed; and, on the appointed day, Or 
 mond found himself among a crowd waiting an audi 
 ence at the Prefect's palace. He was expected ; and 
 as soon as he sent his card, was admitted to the 
 presence of the churchman. He received him with 
 even more kindness than before ; and smiled benignly 
 on him as he gave him his blessing. 
 
 After the usual salutations were finished, he said 
 "It is as I expected, and I am able to be the bearer 
 of good news ; but there is one who can reply more 
 satisfactorily to your questions than I can." He arose, 
 and rang a small bell on the table. A lay brother 
 appeared. " Martin," he said, " Father Moiese." 
 
 The brother left the apartment ; and in a few mo 
 ments there entered a person whose mild and noble 
 countenance, united with his venerable appearance, 
 caused Ormond involuntarily to do him. reverence. 
 He was a tall and aged man, whose snowy hair, unlike 
 the clergy's generally, fell over his shoulders in a mass. 
 His eye was a deep blue, and beamed peace and good 
 will to all men. He was attired in the common dress 
 of the order ; and was indeed an imposing and holy- 
 looking man. " Father Moiese," exclaimed the Pre 
 fect, as he presented him to Ormond, and waved him 
 to a seat, "this is the gentleman to whom your 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 175 
 
 communication must be made." Then turning to 
 Ormond, lie said; " I had to dispatch a messenger to 
 Father Moiese, who is a parochial priest, and lives 
 about thirty miles from here; and, as he is aged, I 
 appointed this day for you to meet him here." 
 
 Ormond expressed his deep regret that he had been 
 the cause of giving so much trouble to the good priest. 
 
 " I would do much more to serve one humbler than 
 you, my son," answered the old man, mildly. 
 
 " Proceed, father !" said the Prefect. 
 
 " I was sent for one evening," commenced the priest, 
 " now some eight years ago, to receive the confession 
 of a dying woman, a Quadroon. She was very ill, and 
 wished to make a statement to me in a matter in 
 which she had been concerned, and in which she 
 thought she had not acted altogether right. She said 
 that she had been the attendant and friend of a young 
 French officer attached to the ordinance department 
 of Port-Koyal, many years before. His name was 
 Horace "St. Medard. During his residence at Port- 
 Koyal, he had fallen in love with, and married a beau 
 tiful Creole girl, by the name of Marie St. Yalle. They 
 had one child, whom they named Marie, after her 
 mother. The father died of the yellow fever, and left 
 to his widow a small property. The widow, whose 
 marriage had been private, lived very retired; and 
 had sent her child to Paris to be educated in a convent. 
 She was young when she left home. The mother, in 
 a few years, determined to make Paris her home, 'as 
 her relatives all resided in France. The ship in which 
 she sailed was capsized at sea, and all on board 
 perished. Then the idea first occurred to the woman 
 (who had charge of the property in Port-Koyal until 
 it could be disposed of) to send for the young Marie, 
 
176 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 claim her as a niece, and thus retain the property for 
 her own use. 
 
 " The plan was put in execution, and carried out ; 
 and, upon the return of the child, then some ten years 
 old, she went to live with the woman, who represented 
 herself as her aunt. Things remained in this con 
 dition until the girl had grown up into a handsome 
 woman, when she was persuaded by a Captain Ber 
 wick to allow the girl to pay a visit, with his wife and 
 himself, to his estates in Jamaica. She agreed to it. 
 They sailed, and she had never seen them more. The 
 woman, who really loved the girl, took it much to 
 heart, and when she did not return, and time passed 
 on, sold out the property and removed into the 
 country. She was taken sick, and now, on her death 
 bed, she made this confession, and gave into my keep 
 ing a large package of family papers, including the 
 marriage-certificate, and other important documents. 
 The woman died, but I had the precaution to send for 
 a notary, who took down from her own lips the 
 tale." 
 
 During this recital, Ormond trembled violently; 
 cold drops of perspiration trickled down his forehead ; 
 he gasped for breath ; and at length managed to 
 articulate, as he looked fervently upward 
 
 " Oh, God ! I thank thee that thou hast led my 
 footsteps hither." 
 
 " That is right, my son," exclaimed the Prefect ; 
 " return your thanks where due to the Almighty." 
 
 Ormond asked, hesitatingly, " And, good father, 
 have you these papers with you?" 
 
 "I have, my son!" he answered; as he drew from 
 his breast a packet of yellow, and time-colored paper, 
 tied with a black ribbon. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 177 
 
 Ormond reached out his hands to grasp them, and 
 pressed them convulsively, as if fearful of letting them 
 escape. With a trembling hand he untied the string, 
 and behold ! before him were the evidences of his hap 
 piness. Hastily did he peruse them. The certificate, 
 deeds, letters to Marie's mother, from her father. 
 How he prized them ! Marie's mother, oh, delightful 
 thought! Her mother! That connection between 
 the past and present. The shame-spot was now re 
 moved forever. His heart was light already happi 
 ness ! His Marie had parents to whom she could look 
 back without shame with pride. The blot on his 
 children's name could now be removed forever ; there 
 was no blood in their veins but what was pure no at 
 tainting stream to poison life to its core. The two 
 priests gazed on him with interest, as these conflicting 
 feelings made themselves visible in his countenance. 
 The Prefect again rung the bell, and a domestic ap 
 peared, bearing a salver and wine. He pressed Or 
 mond to drink, thinking it might calm his agitation. 
 
 " Oh, what do I not owe you both 1" exclaimed he, 
 grasping their hands ; "life and happiness, all; every 
 thing ! Can I repay you ? take my fortune ! all, and 
 it would never half repay you." 
 
 ' ' Father," he continued, ' c do you leave the city soon 1 " 
 
 " In a few days, my son." 
 
 " Then I will see you again ; do not detain me ; I 
 seek those who wait for me, never dreaming of that 
 immense happiness in store for them ! Forgive me if 
 I go now ; I will see you and thank you when I am 
 calmer. I go now ; bless me both." 
 
 " God bless you, my son !" exclaimed both the 
 priests, as they laid their hands on his head. 
 
 Ormond arose, and rushed from the apartment, 
 8* 
 
178 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Shall we follow him to the hotel ? Shall we attempt 
 to depict Marie's joy, their friends' happiness? Oh, 
 no ! it is too sacred, we will not attempt it, we would 
 miserably fail ; but we know that there was joy too 
 great, happiness too great for utterance, and the swol 
 len bosom must must find relief in tears ! 
 
 It was several days before Ormond called again at 
 the Prefect's palace. He was received as usual with 
 kindness, and found closeted with the prelate a dis 
 tinguished avocat, who practiced in the courts of the 
 island. He was a vivacious little Frenchman, and 
 when the subject of Ormond's visit was brought up, 
 he entered into it warmly. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said to Ormond, " I would advise 
 you to effect the acknowledgment of your children in 
 your own State; it would effect no good here, and 
 would be easier of reference." 
 
 Father Moiese now entered the room, and was 
 greeted by Ormond only as a grateful heart can feel. 
 
 "There is one thing, monsieur," said the Prefect, 
 " you. will attend to. We have your property in 
 charge, which is the rightful inheritance of the mother 
 of your children ; the Church has the revenue, and is 
 ready at once to relinquish it. You will find she has 
 been a faithful steward." 
 
 " I am grieved," replied Ormond, " that you deem 
 me ungrateful enough to take it. The Church must 
 keep it ; my circumstances place it in my power to do 
 this without any injury to myself." 
 
 At first it was rejected, but by the firm refusal of 
 Ormond to receive it, they agreed that the Church 
 should be the recipient ; and it was arranged that the 
 present avocat should wait upon Marie at the hotel, to 
 receive her renunciation of the property. 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 179 
 
 To all Ormond's offers to the good old Father Moi- 
 ese, he gave a firm and steady yet gentle rejection, 
 saying that he had, from his youth upward, devoted 
 his life to the Church, and in her service would he die. 
 He, however, agreed to accept some small present 
 from him as a memorial of his gratitude. 
 
 It was on the second day after Ormond had visited 
 the Prefect that the agent of the Chupch called at the 
 hotel, and received a warm welcome from Ormond. 
 He advised him not to take the original papers away 
 with him ; they were too precious to be risked to any 
 casualty, but to deposit them among the records of 
 the court, and only carry away copies of the whole. 
 He eagerly acted upon this advice, and proceeded to 
 put it in execution. There was one record, however, 
 which he determined to carry away, and that was the 
 record of his marriage ; and he accordingly called upon 
 the Prefect, and preferred his request that he would 
 unite Marie and himself according to the rules of the 
 holy Church. Gladly, willingly, he consented to per 
 form the ceremony. 
 
 The next evening a small party were gathered at 
 the Prefect's own chapel, and before the altar he joined 
 the hands of those whose hearts had been so long 
 united. 
 
 It is needless to* attempt to paint the extreme joy 
 which swelled the heart of Marie, and the manly de 
 light of Ormond, as he drew toward him an ever- 
 loved, but now a respected and cherished wife. Lan 
 guage is inadequate for the expression of such feelings. 
 Mrs. Grant participated in the joy of her friend, and 
 wept upon her neck. The Doctor, as soon as they 
 were free from the chapel, swore that the "wild-goose 
 chase" had now terminated beautifully ; and that al- 
 
180 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 belt the cooking among the cannibals was not exactly 
 to his taste, still he felt many times repaid for risking 
 his precious neck in foreign parts. Altogether, it was 
 a reunion of unalloyed felicity. 
 
 A week elapsed ere an opportunity presented itself 
 for them to return to the United States ; but at length 
 a brig was advertised to sail for Havana. Calling 
 upon the Prefect, Ormond expressed in feeling terms 
 his gratitude, and placing in his hands a sum for the 
 benefit of his charities, received his blessing, and de 
 parted. 
 
 Securing the precious package of papers in dupli 
 cate among his baggage, he, assisted by the doctor, 
 transferred it to the brig. It was about sundown 
 when the party left the land, and trusted themselves 
 to the billowy deep. 
 
 Upon arriving at Havana a vessel was easily found 
 to convey them home. No incident occurred during 
 the trip, except that Mrs. Grant became more unwell 
 as they approached the shores of Louisiana ; and as 
 she lay in her berth, or reclined on deck, kindly at 
 tended by Marie with all a sister's love, and sympa 
 thized with by the other passengers, her wasted cheek 
 and shrunken form, combined with her general lan 
 guor, filled her husband's heart with a fearful agony. 
 He was at a loss what course to pursue ; he was con 
 fident that her lungs were diseased, and was fearful 
 that the affection was too deeply rooted to be eradi 
 cated. This filled his breast with an indescribable 
 emotion, and made h*s bold heart vibrate with sorrow. 
 He tenderly loved her, and the thought of losing her 
 was unendurable. He could not conceive the possi 
 bility of her being snatched away in the bloom of life 
 and beauty; then sighed as he noticed the brilliant 
 
THE CREOLE! ORPHANS. 181 
 
 sparkle of her eyes, and her thin, attenuated hands ; 
 and heard in the silent watches of the night that sharp 
 and painful, that mournful cough, which sometimes 
 convulsed her system. 
 
 It was again evening ; night covered with her dark 
 mantle the heaving sea, and the gleaming stars were 
 stealing forth in beauty. All the passengers were 
 gathered on deck. 
 
 It was .midnight : Ormond and Marie were standing 
 at the tafrrail, gazing back over the ocean, and then 
 throwing their eyes forward. The Balize was in 
 sight. 
 
 Dr. Grant was leaning over a seat, on which reclined 
 his wife, and all were looking eagerly forward. 
 
 What a thrill of joy shoots through the heart as the 
 traveler, weary and sore, approaches his native land ! 
 "What a joy pervades his frame as he longs to claim 
 his heritage, and press the dear soil which gave him 
 birth, to clasp loved friends to his breast, to mingle in 
 old familiar scenes, and renew old and loved associa 
 tions ! 
 
 Thus Ormond felt as he stood with one hand of his 
 wife's in his own, gazing steadfastly over the water ; 
 and when at last the light, that beacon of hope to the 
 heart of the wave-tossed mariner, shot its trembling 
 beams across the face of the restless sea, gleaming at 
 first faintly, and then more strongly, and at last show 
 ing bright, steady, and clear, a general shout of glad 
 ness arose from all around. 
 
 " My dear Marie," he said, drawing her closer, 
 " there is our own dear land, our home, greeting us 
 with its welcome smile." 
 
 She replied by a gentle pressure of his hand, and a 
 tear of happiness. 
 
182 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Oh ! how justly proud is an American ! He may 
 visit the shores of the Old World, hoary and venerable, 
 renowned for the ashes of the past, its heroes, its ora 
 tors, and its statesmen ; he may mingle in its scenes 
 of splendor, its pageants, and its pomps ; he may 
 tread the classic shores of Greece, and dream among 
 the monuments of departed ages ; he may wander 
 among the islands of the Mediterranean, or be sur 
 rounded with the luxuries of an Oriental cgurt ; he 
 may tread the sands of Palestine, and visit the scenes 
 sacred to Christianity ; he may recline among the olive 
 groves of Italy, and under its bright skies drink in its 
 intoxicating inspiration ; he may stand at the base of 
 the Pyramids, or wander among the ruins of the 
 Acropolis ; he may be shaded in a bower of love, 
 among spicy islands, where every breath is a perfume, 
 and every sigh an exhalation of pleasure ; where the 
 rose blooms always, and the song of the nightingale 
 is ever heard ; where violet-colored dreams greet his 
 slumber, and every thought is bliss; but still he 
 fondly clings to the memory of home he still sighs 
 for the proud mountain oak, and the clear, gushing 
 spring, where the trout leaps in gladness, and the 
 pure mountain breeze, as it plays in the tree-tops, 
 whispers of " Freedom." He still sighs for that holy 
 land of liberty, where every man is a prince, and 
 which is shadowed by the wing of God. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Tentanda via ost." 
 
 TI7"E will now return to Mr. Talbot, whom we left 
 ** conducting the espitolary business of Colonel 
 Ormond, and arranging in his own mind matters to 
 suit himself. Things had not at all changed in any 
 respect, save the advance of the season. The rolling 
 time was over, and the levee was crowded with the 
 sweets of a year of labor. 
 
 Talbot had made some new acquaintances ; he had 
 hunted, and fished, and rode, attended parties, and in 
 all respects enjoyed himself; but he still nourished 
 in his own heart those evil passions which make man's 
 nature akin to the fiend. 
 
 He had never heard from Stamps, and felt anxious 
 to receive a letter from him ; for he had formed the 
 acquaintance of a feeless lawyer, who, on ascertaining 
 that he was the relation of Colonel Ormond, tried to 
 cultivate his friendship, in the hope" that "something 
 would turn up ;" for he learned tjie circumstances of 
 Ormond's life; and he had planted a hope in the 
 bosom of Talbot which haunted his pillow nightly 
 after. 
 
 One evening, as he was sitting in the gallery, tired, 
 and covered with dust from a long ride, old Pierre 
 
184 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 came up the road, and gave him a letter from the post- 
 office. 
 
 He glanced at the direction, and hastily put it in 
 his pocket. He knew the hand : it was from his boy 
 hood's friend the tool he intended to use. It was 
 from Stamps. 
 
 As soon as Pierre had gone, with his chatter and 
 his offensive familiarity, he stole to his chamber, and 
 then, locking the door, hastily tore open the letter. It 
 ran thus : 
 
 " NEW TOEK, January 3, 18. 
 
 "My DEAR TOLLY 
 
 "You can not imagine the delight the reception 
 ol your letter gave me. I had gone to the post-office 
 many times, and, after being often disappointed, yours 
 was put into my hands. I devoured its contents. You 
 are a lucky fellow, Tolly ; and I am afraid your letter 
 has run me crazy. It has made me very absent lately, 
 and I do a great many things to be laughed at. The 
 first day after I got it, I thought of nothing else. Old 
 Mrs. Snap, our landlady, who has not improved in 
 disposition since you left, asked me, 
 
 " c Will you have coffee or tea, sir?' 
 
 " I was thinking of you, and the pretty Southern 
 girls, and says I, ' Creole, if you please, ma'am.' 
 
 " ' Creole, sir ? r says" she, as sharp as a broken vine 
 gar-bottle. * What do you mean by talking about them 
 niggers here ?' 
 
 " I blushed up, and was scared to death ; but I got 
 off by making an excuse. 
 
 " But now I have got to tell you some thing worse 
 than that. Tolly, I have lost my place. The way of 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 185 
 
 it was this : The other evening, as I was carrying a 
 bundle around to a customer, I noticed on a theater- 
 bill, in the biggest kind of letters, a play for that 
 night, called, * The Yankee in India ; or, The Way to 
 make a Fortune.' The title struck me, and I deter 
 mined to see it. I went into the pit, and it was first- 
 rate. But the next day old Hunks heard of it ; so he 
 called me up and gave me a lecture. I thought of you 
 and your freedom, and, as he said a lot of hard things, I 
 just politely told him to go to blue ruin, and that I could 
 do very well without him. I told him you had gone 
 to Louisiana, and had a big sugar plantation, and lots 
 of niggers ; and that I would go and see you. He 
 looked astonished ; but then he called me an imper 
 tinent beggar, and ordered the book-keeper to make 
 out my account, and pay me off. I felt like whipping 
 him, but left without saying much. 
 
 " And this, Tolly, is the way I lost it. Maybe I was 
 a fool, and maybe I was n't. I have got some money, 
 but not more than enough to support me till I get a 
 situation. Tolly, now, my old boy ! fly around, and 
 try and look for a place for me by the time I get 
 there, for I am coming, sure. I have not fixed the 
 time yet, but expect to get a little more money soon, 
 and then I will be with you. 
 
 " I remain, your friend, as ever, 
 
 "W. STAMPS." 
 
 " Senseless fool I" exclaimed Talbot, when he had 
 finished reading it. ie To act in this manner ; to throw 
 away a certainty for an uncertainty ! but I think, may 
 be I may have a use for him, though I fear he will be 
 a dead weight on me : and I want to ride light when 
 
186 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 I do begin the race. And so I may expect him daily ? 
 Well, I wish, Ormond would come. He must like to 
 spend money on his lady. Ha, ha ! But he can af 
 ford it." 
 
 Here he heaved a deep sigh, and slowly left the 
 room. 
 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AN a calm and pleasant evening, a party consisting 
 ^ of Ormond and Marie, Dr. Grant and his wife, 
 stood upon the guards of a steamer as she was nearing 
 the old homestead. There were the old house with its 
 ancient pointed roof, and its wide galleries, the live 
 oak-trees waving their gnarled branches in the air as 
 if in welcome, and the tall chimneys of the s 1 ' ~ 
 house in the distance. There were the 
 the orange, and the still darke" "" 
 evergreens in the lawn, 
 to trill forth their > 
 home. Oh, how . " 
 Marie now, as/ 
 How differ 
 a loved 
 was r>- 
 
188 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 there oh, joy ! she found on her boudoir-table several 
 letters. Ah! they were ship-letters! and one from 
 Madame Civalle. And there was one in Zoe's sweet 
 little hand. Eagerly she tore them open, and drank 
 in with all a mother's fond love the happy intelligence 
 that all were well ; the feeling of the soul poured out 
 in all the pure simplicity of childhood, the sea, its 
 wonders, the strange sights and sounds, all found a 
 place. They were written at sea, and sent home by a 
 return packet. How she wept and smiled, and wept 
 and kissed again and again those dear lines which 
 those sweet fingers had penned. Ormond joined in 
 oleasure, and their kind friends. There was one 
 '^ detracted from their pleasure : it was this, 
 ""as found another letter : it was 
 ^a compelled a few days 
 North on business 
 Hed with a large 
 'i New York; 
 on this 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 189 
 
 her ; but when she remembered how firmly she was 
 united to Ormond, and that she was now beyond the 
 reach of any contingency, she tried to banish all those 
 feelings, and remembered the prophecy of old Celeste 
 only as an idle dream. 
 
 Talbot placed in his patron's hands all the corre 
 spondence which had arrived during his absence. He 
 now informed him of his desire to take charge of. the 
 situation secured by him. Ormond agreed to it, kind 
 ly supplied him with letters to his friends, and a sum 
 of money. He departed, and in the course of a week 
 a letter from him informed them that he had entered 
 the house, and was settled, at the same time thanking 
 them for their kindness and hospitality. 
 
 Thus we leave our characters at this period. The 
 family of Colonel Ormond resided now wholly at the 
 plantation. At Marie's desire the residence in the city 
 was broken up, and the property offered for sale. He 
 contracted his business, and devoted himself wholly to 
 the improvement of his estate, and contributing to the 
 happiness of his slaves. Marie was received in the 
 neighborhood as an equal, although it was not known 
 even that she was wedded ; but the example of Mrs. 
 Grant was speedily followed, and she was a welcome 
 guest every where. So much for breaking down the 
 barriers of custom. This notice of her by Mrs. Grant 
 created a revulsion in her favor, and courtesies were 
 showered on her on every side. It was not surmised 
 that the journey the party had taken was other than 
 for the benefit of the health of Mrs. Grant. Ormond 
 had never mentioned the matter to any one, not even 
 to Talbot, and the public were as ignorant of it as 
 ever. Mrs. Grant's health now so sensibly declined, 
 
190 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 that by the best medical 'advices Dr. Grant concluded to 
 try the restorative influence of the air of Italy upon her 
 enervated frame, but with an almost hopeless view of 
 the case. She had become much weaker ; the bloom 
 on her cheeks was the hot flush of fever, and the 
 brilliancy of her eyes was the sparkle of disease. He 
 sailed immediately. 
 
 Letters were received from Zoe and Estelle. They 
 were much pleased with their situation, but longed 
 again to be fondly pressed to their mother's breast, to 
 share their father's joy, and be safely sheltered in the 
 circle of domestic love. They longed again to hear 
 the gentle evening breeze rustling the leaves of the 
 orange boughs, and to recall those delightful moments 
 now remembered as the fleeting dreams of love and 
 youth. 
 
 Marie felt lonely and sad when Ormond was absent ; 
 she sat by the solitary hearth and wept as she thought 
 of her bright-eyed ones so far away from home, and 
 the shadow of departed hours hung gloomily over her 
 
 soul. 
 
 
 
 " Come home I There is a sorrowing breath 
 In music since ye went, 
 And the early flower-scents wander by 
 With mournful memories blent ; 
 The tones in every household voice 
 Are grown more sad and deep, 
 And sweet words wake a wish 
 To turn aside and weep." 
 
 
 Although Ormond had married the mother of his 
 
 children, there was one act still to be performed : it 
 was to legitimate his children ; and for this purpose he 
 went to New Orleans. His friend Mr. Bland was at 
 
THE CREOLE^ ORPHANS. 191 
 
 home, and to him he applied. He accomplished his 
 wishes to his satisfaction, but strange to say, neglected 
 to mention a word to him of his actions in the island 
 of Martinique. 
 
 He returned home, feeling now that he had forever 
 secured the safety of his children, should he be called 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Death ! thou hast had thy harvest! 
 ***** 
 
 We can but mourn for thou hast gathered in 
 The brightest and most beautiful below." 
 
 OALLAQHKB. 
 
 GEVERAL months passed, and the buds of spring 
 ^ had given way to the flowers of summer, with its 
 balmy air, and birds, and sunshine. 
 
 It was with feelings of the deepest grief that letters 
 were received from Dr. Grant, announcing the slow, 
 but sure decline of his wife. Sometimes they would 
 come to Ormond, and frequently to Herndon, whose 
 overseer would at once, on seeing a foreign post-mark, 
 send them over to Ormond. Dr. Grant was in Flo 
 rence, with a soul bowed down with grief. He saw 
 that the disease was too deeply rooted to be eradicated 
 it was beyond the leech's art, and laughed at the 
 impotent attempts of medicine to conquer it. He 
 remained by her side, cheering her by his devoted 
 love and assiduous attention, and anticipating her 
 slightest wish. But he could not save her she was 
 sinking. The pearly luster of her eye, her restless 
 nights and days of pain, the death-like cough and 
 transparent hand, too surely told that the fair brow 
 would soon be bathed in the dews of death ; that those 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 193 
 
 bright orbs would soon be closed in dissolution ; that 
 tongue, now uttering tones of melody, would be 
 palsied ; and that once damask cheek and lovely form 
 be resolved into the dust from whence it came. 
 
 He strove to cheer her drooping spirits, and to instill 
 into her soul the hope of a future happiness. He 
 knew her goodness, and had no fear for her when she 
 came into the spirit-land. But he strove to smooth 
 her passage to the grave. He had at first tried to 
 hope ; but now his deep professional knowledge told 
 him that she had been marked ; that a great and fear 
 ful change would soon take place, and that he must 
 hope no more. Still he traveled. He visited the 
 " Holy City ;" then wended his way to Naples, to 
 Venice, to Messalina, to Greece. But the blue skies 
 of Italy, bright as an angel's dream ; the breath of the 
 orange-groves of Sicily ; nor the flowery fields of the 
 Ionian Isles, could save the withering blossoms of 
 beauty. Like a rare exotic transplanted to a colder 
 clime, it faded, and withered, and died. 
 
 " Poor, poor fellow !" feelingly exclaimed Ormond, 
 as he read one of Grant's desponding letters, and the 
 great tears* stood in his eyes ; " he is unhappy ; he is 
 far, far away from loved friends and home ; heartless 
 strangers surround him ; he is buried in sorrow, and 
 oh, poor Caroline !" Here he clinched his hands in 
 a convulsive manner, then raising his eyes to Heaven, 
 fervently said 
 
 " Oh, God! if it be possible if it be thy willlet 
 this bitter cup be spared him !" 
 
 It was on a calm Sabbath morning that Ormond sat 
 in the gallery ; it was peaceful and serene, not a cloud 
 floated across the blue fields of heaven ; the air came 
 
 9 
 
194 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 softly to the cheek, and all was at rest. His thoughts 
 were with his friend, in that far off clime ; and his 
 prayers were for the idolized Caroline. Suddenly his 
 attention was drawn to the sound of horse's feet he 
 looked up it was Herndon's overseer riding toward 
 the house. An ill-defined feeling of alarm and dis 
 quiet pervaded his breast he felt that he was the 
 bearer of bad news. He entered the gallery ; gloom 
 was upon his brow, and sadness in his eye. Ormond 
 now felt, as he pointed to a seat, that his prophetic heart 
 was right. There was a terrible something to be 
 divulged, and he shrunk from meeting the sorrowful 
 truth. The overseer handed him a letter it was 
 sealed with black. As he held it out to Ormond, he 
 shrunk back; a strange feeling of horror thrilled 
 through his veins ; it was like a dreadful night-mare ; 
 he could not shake it off. It possessed a strange fasci 
 nation that death-sealed letter ; but he took it ; he 
 broke the seal. " It is all over !" he exclaimed in feel 
 ing accents, and uttering a deep groan, pressed his 
 hands to his eyes, then slowly read it through with a 
 sad interest. Here it is : 
 
 " GENOA, June 14, 
 
 HERNDON, 
 
 " You can not conceive with what feeling I now 
 sit down to write you. The last sad blow has been 
 struck, and my Caroline is lost forever to me. Oh, 
 my friend! if you knew my sufferings. Sad and 
 desolate, with not a friend! alone! Oh, Herndon! 
 may you never know the full meaning of that word. 
 The misery of a lifetime has been concentrated in a 
 few days. 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 195 
 
 " On Thursday night, about eleven o'clock, Caroline, 
 who had been gradually declining, seemed more lively 
 than had been her wont; and I had lain down to 
 snatch a moment's repose before an open window. I 
 was dreaming of home and happiness. Oh, cruel 
 vision ! Suddenly I was awakened by the sound of 
 the rustle of the curtain of her bed ; my senses being, by 
 continual anxiety and watching, preternaturally acute ; 
 I hastily arose ; the light had burned out ; I called, 
 there was no answer I Alarmed, I lit the lamp. I 
 rushed to the bed, reproaching myself for my selfish 
 ness, while she might be suffering. But, oh, Heaven ! 
 how shall I describe my horror ! ! She had raised 
 herself, and her head was hanging over the edge of 
 the bed, with her long dark hair in tangled masses 
 reaching the floor, and soaked with blood ! She was in 
 the agonies of death. She had been seized with a fit 
 of coughing, an artery had been ruptured, and her 
 white clothes and pillow were covered with bright blood. 
 How I survived that shock I know not. I raised her 
 up. She smiled faintly her dying eyes brightened 
 her lips tried to pronounce my name; and her last 
 pure sigh was wafted to its native Heaven. I 
 
 " But I shall go mad ! I laid her in the ground I 
 can not weep ! I care not for life ! Oh, for you ! for 
 Ormond and his gentle wife to be with me ! 
 
 " I leave here to-morrow, for I know not where ; 
 but I will roam the world it is now a vast sepulcher 
 to me. I will seek the -desert, and my cry will answer 
 the howl of the hyena. I know not when you will 
 see me, but if I survive this shock I will meet you 
 again. 
 
 " There is a lock of hair. I send it at the request of 
 
196 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 my lost Caroline, to Marie ! Tell her that her poor 
 friend sleeps in a citron-grove, where the air is balmy, 
 but the tear of friendship does not water her resting- 
 place. 
 
 u Your unhappy friend, 
 
 . " GRANT." 
 
 The tears chased each other down the cheeks of 
 Ormond as he read this record of grief. He grasped 
 the lock of dark hair contained in the letter, and left 
 the gallery to seek Marie, and mingle his grief with her's. 
 
 It was a Sabbath day in New Orleans; the bells 
 rung out the holy invitation for all to enter the house 
 of God. Multitudes passed along the street ; the mer 
 chant, wending his way to the more frequented parts 
 of the city, to learn the news ; the clerks, to dispose 
 of a day of relaxation from business. Here was the 
 stranger from the North, with his fine, fresh counte 
 nance ; and there the Southern gentleman, returning 
 home from abroad. Here plodded a stolid old Dutch 
 man, on his way to mass ; and immediately behind 
 tripped the smart Irish servant girl, bound on the 
 same errand. On the other side of the street you see 
 a young Hibernian, who, just promoted to a new dray 
 and horse, comes out in all the glory of stove-pipe 
 hat and blue cloth, and is throwing the most exquisite 
 glances toward the aforesaid servant-girl from his 
 pea-green eyes. Here is a Creole of Jerusalem, who is 
 making mental calculations of what his stock of second 
 hand goods bought the day previous at auction will 
 bring; and behind him is a Christian, whose thoughts 
 are, for this day at least, not upon things of this 
 world. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 197 
 
 There are many other parties we might point out : 
 the fast cotton planter, who having just got through 
 the bottom dollar of his crop, and the last one his mer 
 chant would bleed, is now about to leave on the Sun 
 day packet for the coasi and the little towns above ; 
 but he is happy, for he has already got acceptances 
 enough to more than cover his next crop. Oh, rare 
 economy ! There is a sugar-planter, who has just 
 paid his bill at the hotel ; he is going up on the same 
 boat. He is now on his way to the livery stable, to 
 order shipped a pair of fast ponies he purchased the 
 day before ; but he is also happy, for his plantation is 
 well protected, being covered a foot deep with mort 
 gages. Among this crowd might be observed, engaged 
 in earnest conversation as they slowly walked along, 
 two young men. One is our acquaintance Talbot, 
 and the other, by his gaze of curiosity around, seemed 
 to be a stranger. He was of a heavy -built form, with 
 dark hair, and seemed to have a not unhandsome 
 countenance, as he laughed and smiled, and appeared 
 to be highly pleased. 
 
 Talbot was acting as conductor to his friend. He 
 has determined to launch out that day, and impress 
 Stamps (for it was he) with an idea of his importance, 
 and to treat him to a dinner at a fashionable restau 
 rant. A word here about Talbot, however. Upon 
 his arrival in New Orleans, he was well received, 
 through the influence of the letters of Colonel Ormond, 
 and entered upon his duties in the house. Here he 
 had remained ever since. He had not risen in rank 
 or salary. He was secretly disliked, although no 
 charge could be brought against him, and was thought 
 to be a coward, in consequence of his refusing to ac- 
 
198 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 cept a challenge sent % a fellow-clerk for an alleged 
 insult: he preferred making an apology. He was 
 never fully trusted. It was about this time that he 
 succeeded in obtaining for Stamps a situation in an 
 other house upon his arrival. Stamps had reached 
 New Orleans the evening before, and lost no time in 
 calling upon his friend, with whose address he had 
 been previously furnished. And now we find them 
 on this day resuming their habits of former days. 
 
 "Well, Stamps," observed Talbot, "we are at last 
 again together, and in the South." 
 
 "Yes, Tolly, my boy !" replied he ; "here we are; 
 and I am as delighted as a dog with two tails to be 
 with you. I have longed and sighed for this time 
 again and again." 
 
 " Well, Billy, I think we will make something out 
 of it yet. I only wish I could take you right away to 
 Ormond's plantation ; it would be a great deal easier 
 than clerking, and I never did and never will like it, 
 and this thing of being hired to go and come, like a 
 ' fetch-and-carry' spaniel. Billy, when I see the lordly 
 planters come into our office, smoking their fine cigars, 
 and see them strut about and call for their supplies, 
 and get a big check on the bank to go and frolic on ; 
 and when I see the airs of arrogance they assume, I 
 hate the race, and wish I had never been brought into 
 contact with them; it recalls my own situation too 
 forcibly. But, heigho! Billy, I know you are not 
 afraid of the devil, and you know that no one can 
 match me plotting." 
 
 "I know that, Tolly; and I always thought you 
 were cut out for a great man." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 199 
 
 " Thank you, Billy. If I do, you shall share the 
 glory ; for you will assist me to raise our fortunes." 
 
 11 All you have got to do is to tell me what to do, 
 Tolly, and if it is to pull the old un's horns off, I will 
 try. I will do any thing for you." 
 
 " And I for you, Billy. I am not as scary as I used 
 to be ; I have fought a duel since I have been here." 
 
 "The devil you have, Tolly I" exclaimed the grati 
 fied fellow, gazing at him in admiration. " Hurrah 
 for you ! The fact is, that is the only objection I ever 
 had to you. I thought you were not as brave as two 
 men ought to be." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! that was policy, Billy policy, sir." 
 
 ""Well, have you got up any scheme, Tolly, by 
 which we can make a raise?" 
 
 " Yes, I have a golden idea; but it is too new yet, 
 and I must bide my time. I must have patience and 
 perseverance." 
 
 "Yes, for the Bible says, 'Patience and soft soap 
 will thread a cambric needle with a cable.' " 
 
 " That 's a wrong quotation, Billy." 
 
 " Is it? "Well I do not know, I have not read the 
 Bible through very often. But what is the specula 
 tion that promises so much?" 
 
 " I will make a quotation, Billy. ' The right hand 
 should never know what the left doeth.' And it is 
 not worth while to say any thing about it until the 
 time comes, for come it will some of these days." 
 
 " "Well, I suppose you know, Tolly ; and you know 
 when it is time to strike I 'm on hand." 
 
 "Yes, Billy, my Mend," replied he, turning and 
 grasping Stamps by the hand. "And to show you 
 that I have confidence in you, I will say that at the 
 
200 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 death of a relation, with a little figuring, I will come 
 into possession of a fine sugar-plantation and a mint 
 of niggers." 
 
 " Oh I don't I wish the time would come. Lord, I 
 would lay in bed till ten o'clock every day, and I 
 would have a nigger to even pull my eyes open. But 
 I thought you used to be the strongest kind of an 
 abolitionist?" 
 
 " Yes, so I was; but it was fashionable. That was 
 policy also. I am a slavery man now." 
 
 " There is one thing certain, Tolly, and that is that 
 I would like mightily to own some of them." 
 
 "They are very convenient, Billy, I assure you; 
 and this speculation of mine, provided every thing re 
 mains as it does now, will embrace a Isfrge number." 
 
 " I wish it was time to go into it now." 
 
 " Never mind, the fruit will get ripe and fall of its 
 own accord in time." 
 
 In such conversations as these, and an occasional 
 reference to old times, the two reunited friends whiled 
 away the morning. Down by the State-house and 
 Hospital to the Catholic cemetery, and into the 
 French portion of the city to the Place d'Armes, they 
 turned and finally brought up at the door of a cele 
 brated restaurant. 
 
 Soon they were seated at its plenteous board, and 
 the heart and purse of Talbot opened generously. A 
 splendid dinner, with fine wines, cheered the palate of 
 Stamps, who was not habituated to discuss and pro 
 nounce upon the gastronomic wonders placed before 
 him. 
 
 That night Stamps was introduced into the theatre, 
 to his great delight. 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 201 
 
 The situation of clerk was still open in the house, 
 and Stamps entered it. The salary was small, but suf 
 ficient for his wants ; and he might have been happy 
 and contented, had it not been for his wily friend, 
 who was tutoring him for his own use. 
 
 It will be remembered that a sister of Talbot's had 
 been betrayed, and decoyed away from her home, 
 while he was a youth. He had heard by a friend in 
 New York that his sister was in New Orleans, and 
 was pursuing a course of infamy. He had inquired, 
 and found no clew to her. 
 
 9* 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 * With her white hands folded gently, 
 
 Upon her pulseless breast, 
 And a snowy shroud around her, 
 We laid her there to rest." 
 
 TT is hard to leave the scenes of love and friendship, 
 * and even the records of uninteresting events, 
 where there are some soft, soothing and refined pass 
 ages in life ; but it is more terrible still to pass to 
 scenes of death, where agony is triumphant, to watch 
 the ebbing pulse, the heaving bosom, and glazing eye. 
 Upon the receipt of the intelligence of the death of 
 poor Mrs. Grant, the grief of Marie was overwhelm 
 ing. For many days she refused to be comforted. 
 Ormond begged and pleaded with her, to moderate 
 her grief, to calm her emotions. He proposed to her 
 a short trip of pleasure ; to which she assented, as it 
 was his wish. He thought a change of scene might 
 obliterate the images of sadness with which her heart 
 was peopled, or at least moderate the intensity of 
 thought, and recall to her cheeks a portion of that 
 bloom they once wore and the smile to her lips. They 
 accordingly set out. He exhausted the rounds of pleas 
 ure for her. From place to plate they fled, leaving 
 thought behind them ; and, later in the season, he had 
 the pleasure of seeing her recover a portion of tha.t 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 203 
 
 cheerfulness she once possessed, and then they bent 
 their steps toward home. 
 
 The pestilence was abroad in its fury ; the city was 
 in mourning. Many of the wisest and best of the 
 land had been taken off in their prime. Consterna 
 tion and horror prevailed. Hundreds of those who 
 were in health, and had fondly dreamed that they 
 were spared, the next sunset saw shrouded ; and still 
 it called for its hecatombs of victims. Medical science 
 stood appalled and aghast at its own impotency, and 
 that of the most powerful drugs, to combat the fearful 
 disease ; and the victim was shut out from the aid and 
 sympathy of his fellow-men. There were then no be 
 nevolent institutions, formed to relieve and succor the 
 destitute sick, and perform the last sad offices for the 
 stranger. The dead-cart alone rumbled along the 
 streets, the death-bell came booming sullenly and sol 
 emnly, and mingled with the melancholy cry of 
 " Bring out your dead !" and seemed like the knell 
 of despair, as it was rung through the midnight streets, 
 creating horror and agony in those who had thus far 
 escaped. All who could go, were gone; and those 
 who remained, staid behind to battle with disease 'and 
 death. The grave-digger could not perform his office 
 fast enough ; and gold was showered liberally among 
 the hardy laborers, to induce them to remain, and 
 cover the bloated and putrefying corpses that came 
 pouring in. 
 
 At such a time as this, Ormond and Marie arrived 
 in New Orleans, on their return home'; and Marie was 
 attacked with the fever. In the airy chamber of a 
 large hotel, sat the faithful Ormond, by the bedside of 
 the fever-stricken patient. It was the seventh day 
 
204: THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 from the first attack ; and the case was unusually se 
 vere, and singularly protracted. Around her couch 
 were tearful attendants, who stood and gazed with 
 pity on her shrunken features and throbbing breast. 
 Ormond sat and held the hands of the sufferer, and 
 looked in intense anguish on her form. Every pang 
 she seemed to feel inflicted an intense one on him. 
 Haggard and unshaven, with eyes bloodshot from 
 long-continued vigils and burning like coals of fire, 
 he was dead to the external world. He lived but in 
 her, and was deaf but to her anguish. 
 
 For three days had she spoken no word. All that 
 science and skill could accomplish was done ; and, al 
 though her physicians remained constantly with her, 
 the case was left in the hands of God. : 
 
 Her medical friend sat by her, watch in hand, 
 counting the fleeting moments ; and then, signing to 
 the nurse, moistened the parched lips of the patient 
 with some liquid. Since she had become insensible, 
 she had never spoken, but lay in a kind of stupor, 
 exhibiting no signs of life other than the heavy 
 breathing and uneasy murmurs. The fever had 
 wrought a fearful change on that once polished and 
 rounded form ; and the pale cheeks and sunken eyes 
 were hollowed by disease. But there Ormond sat, 
 heeding naught on earth save the deep pulsations of 
 her heart, and the moans of anguish which ever and 
 anon burst from her tortured bosom. There lay the 
 idol of his affections, who, racked by pain and disease, 
 lay dying. Oh ! how tortured was his soul, and how 
 deep was his grief, as he looked upon her, pressed her 
 hand, and whispered hoarsely, " Marie 1 Marie !" But 
 she saw him not, she heard him not, she knew not 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 205 
 
 that his heart throbbed with convulsive emotion, and 
 that the deep sighs which came sobbingly forth, indi 
 cated a breaking heart. Oh ! his generous soul was filled 
 with a deep and dreadful agony, and great drops of 
 sweat ran down his forehead. His hand was pressed 
 to his burning eyes, which had not been closed in 
 slumber for so many days of misery. But he, the 
 devoted, the high-hearted Ormond he heeded not 
 sleepless nights and days of suffering ; he tired not 
 of prayers uttered, deep and fervent, at the midnight 
 hour. ISTo ; he remained by the couch, lost to every 
 thing save her. 
 
 It was only by the presence of the physician, and 
 the gentle pressure of his hand on his arm, that he 
 was aroused. He cast his eyes wildly around him. 
 " Doctor," he asked, with an almost maniac glare, "is 
 there any hope ?" 
 
 Slowly and sadly the doctor shook his head ; and, as 
 he looked upon the form of the sufferer, a tear rolled 
 down his cheek. 
 
 Marie stirred, and moaned ; she opened her eyes, 
 and looked about her as if in surprise, then a look of 
 intelligence passed over her countenance, as she real 
 ized her situation. Her eyes met those of Ormond's, 
 who was tenderly bending over her; a faint flush 
 overspread her cheeks, and a sparkle of recognition 
 appeared. " Charles," she faintly whispered ; but al 
 though he bent his ear over her pillow, and intently 
 listened, she was silent. Tremblingly she raised her 
 thin and feeble hand ; and seemed to be groping like a 
 person in darkness. Ormond took it in his, and ten 
 derly pressed it ; she smiled slightly, and it was still. 
 Like a bird seeking its nest, it had found it, and was 
 
206 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 content. As his eyes were fixed on her, a convulsive 
 shudder passed over her system. 
 
 " Doctor ! doctor I" exclaimed he madly, half- 
 arising. 
 
 The physician placed his hand upon her wrist, he rais 
 ed the drooping eyelids, and then took Ormond by the 
 hand to lead him away ; but he shook off his hand im 
 patiently, and creeping closer, leaned over, and, in a 
 voice choked by emotion, cried, 
 
 " Marie ! Marie ! Oh leave me not yet ; remember 
 our children, our friends ; oh ! stay yet awhile ! Oh ! 
 God, is this justice ? is this thy divine love ? spare her, 
 oh God ;" and he threw himself on his knees by the 
 couch. She moaned the destroyer had come he 
 started a change had passed over her a spasmodic 
 tremor agitated her system, a slight murmur,, anpther 
 sigh, and, with the softness of the summer's wind, her 
 spirit passed away, and all was peace. Ormond gazed 
 wildly at her a moment in silence ; and then with a 
 deep groan sunk senseless to the floor. 
 
 A massive slab of marble bearing the simple word 
 " Marie," marked the place where was laid the once 
 peerless and pure. 
 
 "She was a cherished treasure, too good, too pure for earth; 
 And she left us in her beauty, her innocence and mirth ; 
 So we laid her in the grave-yard where the willow branches wave, 
 "With the cold earth for her pillow in the dark and silent grave." 
 
 It was many days ere Ormond was able to sit up, 
 even in an invalid's chair. His medical friend attend 
 ed him with all the kindness of a brother ; he strove 
 to cheer him. With an all-abiding faith in the mercy 
 of his Heavenly Father, he strove to direct his thoughts 
 
 
THE CEEOLE OEPBANS. 207 
 
 to that better world, to teach him resignation, and 
 submission to his wise decrees. " When all other sup 
 ports," he exclaimed with Christian mildness, "are 
 thrown down, and worldly comfort has departed, then, 
 my friend, the solace which the belief -in His divine 
 goodness gives, is beyond expression. You have been 
 chastened by the hand of a friend. Pour out your 
 soul in confidence to Him, have faith in His power to 
 give comfort to a wounded soul. Human philosophy 
 is here of little use ; depend on Him who alone can 
 dry your tears, and give relief. We know that our 
 Eedeemer liveth, that a few short yeats, and we shall 
 all be called ; we shall join our friends in that land of 
 light, and love, where sorrow never comes, and hap 
 piness is endless and complete." Such was the exhort 
 ation of the good and Christian physician to the de 
 sponding Ormond. 
 
 When he had recovered sufficiently, he returned 
 home, but it was months, before he was again able to ride 
 about and give his attention to business. He felt that 
 the death of Marie was such a stroke on him that he 
 never would entirely survive it. He roamed about the 
 house, and plantation ; and pleasure seemed to be for 
 ever dead within him. Every object he saw was 
 some reminder of the loved and lost, and opened 
 again the fountain. He did not indulge a childish 
 unmanly grief; his was a true, a noble, a dignified 
 and non-complaining sorrow. He thought of her in 
 the days of her youth, brightening every place with 
 her presence of the thousand endearing words, and 
 her kind actions, of her every look and expression,, 
 and of every circumstance connected with her. Ah I 
 how often he sat in that old gallery, and let his imag- 
 
208 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 ination wander back to scenes long past and gone ! 
 How often would he enter the door of the chamber, 
 while memory would almost cheat him into the belief, 
 that he again heard that bird-like voice warbling joy 
 ously, or her light footstep hastening to meet him as 
 he approached. There by that window, where the 
 sunlight quivers and struggles to find an entrance 
 amid the jasmin clustering around it, was her 
 favorite seat, the tendrils extending inward, as if striv 
 ing to meet her and be near her ; and there was her 
 accustomed chair, with her little work-table, and its 
 pearl ornaments the many little articles of use and 
 decoration, which only female taste can appreciate. 
 There was her favorite volume, exactly as she had left 
 it ; and there h^r last work, rolled up, neatly folded, and 
 laid away, just as it was placed by her fair hands before 
 her last journey with Ormond. Here are her toilet 
 articles, and in that armoire hang the many dresses, 
 which so often clasped that sylph-like form. There 
 were the memorials, which caused the tears to gush 
 like an overcharged fountain. There were the memo 
 rials, of one who had gone, and left no stain on earth. 
 He would at eventide steal off into the garden, and 
 there under the old oaks, where the happy family cir 
 cle had so often been gathered, when the night dew 
 began to fall, and the whippo-wil's melancholy note 
 be heard, there the black hour would come upon him, 
 and those bitter, bitter moments would end in tears 
 those bitter moments which nothing can soothe, noth 
 ing can sweeten. Then would he pray, that he too 
 might be called, that his pilgrimage be ended. 
 
 It must not be imagined, that Ormond was neglect 
 ful, far from it ; his friends often came to visit him, 
 

 CREOLE ORPHANS. 209 
 
 and tried by every means in their power, to draw him 
 away from the melancholy to which he seemed so 
 wedded. He would receive their advances kindly and 
 faintly smile to please them, but his grief was beyond 
 the reach of solace. He often longed to say to them, 
 that it was not a mistress he mourned, but a wife ; his 
 heart boiled at the thought of any aspersion being cast 
 upon the memory of Marie ; yet, when he had made 
 up his mind to speak, the words would seem to choke 
 him, it appeared so unnatural to have to defend her 
 the loved one. 
 
 He had never written to Zoe and Estelle, since the 
 death of their mother ; and now he set himself to the 
 sad task. He had not before written to them at all, for 
 Marie relieved him of that. She had promised to write 
 to them in regard to their visit to Martinique, yet it had 
 been deferred until it was never executed. Herndon 
 was singularly silent ; indeed he did not even know 
 his address. At one time Ormond determined to 
 arouse himself from his lethargy, to throw off the in 
 cubus which bound him. He concluded to go to the 
 North. He often wished for Grant, and even formed 
 the determination of going to Paris, and thence to 
 Italy. In this plan Dr. Grant's father-in-law eagerly 
 acquiesced, as he felt assured the change would do 
 more than any thing else, to enable him to throw off 
 this morbid grief. He even wrote to Zoe, informing 
 her of his expectation. But still he hesitated, and, as 
 the season advanced, he gave it up. His energy of 
 character was gone, and he settled down into a droop 
 ing, listless state of melancholy. He seemed never 
 more satisfied, than when several of his friends were 
 with him, and in eager conversation among themselves 
 
210 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 he would sit buried in his own reveries, absorbed, un 
 heeding, and lost to every thing. He at length wrote 
 for Talbot, who had left JSTew Orleans when the yellow 
 fever was at its height, but returned at its subsidence. 
 He obeyed the summons quickly, and when he alight 
 ed at the steps, was met by Ormond with a melancholy 
 smile and a courteous welcome. This appearance of 
 sincere sorrow and deep feeling even affected Talbot, 
 and he was for once touched by the dignified and 
 patient grief exhibited by his noble kinsman. He was 
 inexpressibly shocked at the great change which had 
 been wrought in his handsome features, and while he 
 gazed, a secret thrill of emotion, a species of electric 
 exultation, such as a fiend might feel while he listened 
 to the scream of agony of his victim, found a place 
 in his bosom. Secretly he thought of Ormond's 
 death, and hugged himself with the idea, the pos 
 sibility of being the nearest collateral heir, as the read 
 er is aware that he was ignorant of the action which 
 had been taken in regard to the wife and childrenf. So 
 he secretly nursed those feelings of ambition and av 
 arice, and dreamed on. 
 
 Time flew and Ormond was evidently sinking; his 
 friends observed it, and sorrow was in their breasts, as 
 they saw his noble form, bowed down by grief, and 
 looked upon his wasted cheek. Talbot was now his con 
 stant companion. Ormond gave him a carte blanche to his 
 factors, and charge of much of his business. He re 
 paid this confidence by the exhibition of the solicitude 
 of a son. So kind was Ormond to him, and so gener 
 ous, that often while he sat and gazed at him, as he 
 reclined on the lounge in the gallery, with his eyes 
 A st on the floor, and absorbed in a melancholy reverie, 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 211 
 
 lie almost relented, and human feeling would pass 
 through his breast.. 
 
 But when he would turn his eye toward the fields 
 of waving cane, the towering chimneys of the sugar- 
 house ; upon those noble buildings, and think that all 
 this lordly property might one day be his ; then would 
 all softer feelings be banished, the sorrowing coun 
 tenance and sad eyes of his friend be forgotten, and 
 the flame of avarice burn so bright and clear, that he 
 would have strangled his own first-born if it had 
 thrown any impediment in the way of his ambition. 
 As the probability of the speedy death of Ormond was 
 presented to. him, by his extreme weakness and ex 
 cessive pallor, he would feel as if the battle were over 
 and the victory won ; his step would be firm, and his 
 bearing more commanding. He sometimes visited 
 New Orleans, and often saw Stamps, who had lost his 
 place, but still clung to his old friendship. Talbot 
 always supplied his wants, for he felt there was a time 
 coming when he should need his services, and he 
 would be repaid with usury. 
 
 Zoe was now fifteen years of age, and Estelle two 
 years her junior. They had never left the walls of the 
 convent since their entrance ; but now they signified 
 a wish, if it were agreeable to their father, to return 
 home. They had well-improved their time, and taken 
 advantage of the opportunities offered, had readily 
 become possessed of all those arts and accomplish 
 ments which are so elgantly taught by the ladies in 
 those schools. Their native tongue was not neglected, 
 while other languages were taught in all their pur 
 ity. They were bright creatures, full of animation, 
 and beloved by the ladies and their fellow-pupils. 
 
212 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Since the reception of the news of their mother's death, 
 ZOQ had become more serious and melancholy in her 
 disposition. Louis Lamotte still went to the Poly- 
 techriique school, and sometimes came to see them. 
 He had at first felt for Zoe that pure childish prefer 
 ence over others which is exhibited by a fondness of 
 association, and afterward by assiduous attention, 
 resigning all pleasures for the sake of the loved object ; 
 and, ultimately, when years of maturity crown them, 
 the sly glances, the palpitations, the sighs, the tears, 
 the tender pressure of hands, and the soft acknowledg 
 ments. Louis, as we have said, had, when a boy, 
 sought the society of Zoe ; the close companionship 
 of a voyage had told upon a susceptible organization, 
 and he felt that he loved. He had never had an 
 opportunity in visiting them, of making his senti 
 ments known ; but, by slight actions and an occasional 
 pressure of Zoe's hand, which caused the warm rich 
 blood to suffuse her face and neck. She knew that 
 she was loved. He heard from her of their wish to 
 return home, and he warmly seconded the desire. He 
 had now grown up into a fine young man, with an eye 
 of fire and a heart as noble, brave and pure, as a high 
 course of moral .training could make it. 
 
 As the spring drew on, and Ormond grew no worse, 
 but rather better, Talbot conceived it advisable to 
 return to his business. One evening he sought his 
 patron, and, with apparent reluctance, mentioned his 
 wish to return to New Orleans. 
 
 " Mr. Talbot," exclaimed Ormond, feelingly ; " I can 
 not express to you my grateful feelings for your kind 
 attention to me. I will not be ungenerous enough to 
 ask you to remain to listen to the vagaries of an in- 
 
THE CREOLE OBPHANS. 213 
 
 valid like myself, and think, perhaps, it were bet 
 ter for you to return ; but come and visit me ; come 
 and stay with me ; you shall ever be a welcome 
 guest, and in any event, remember that you have 
 a friend upon whose kindness and purse you can ever 
 rely." 
 
 After some further conversation they separated. 
 
 A few mornings after, he came to bid adieu to his 
 host. The parting, on tHe side of one, was an exhi 
 bition of feeling which was pure ; on the other it was 
 forced. 
 
 A package was placed in Talbot's hands, as he 
 turned to go on board the steamer. In the privacy 
 of his state-room he opened it. and a check for five 
 hundred dollars was exhibited, with simply ^he words 
 in the envelop <: From an affectionate friend.' 1 '' He 
 grinned with ghastly delight, and exclaimed ; " This 
 will do to begin the campaign with ; we must always 
 have the treasury chest full ; for there may be lawyers 
 to fee if this affair does come off 1 ;" and with this ex 
 clamation of unfeeling, fiendish brutality, he stalked 
 to the bar, and, with a lordly air, ordered a cocktail. 
 
 As he passed through the crowd of passengers, a 
 sentence from one of them seemed to be aimed at him ; 
 for it struck horrie with peculiar force, and rung in 
 his ears for many a day afterward. The expression 
 was, " Well, who knows but it is best to be honest 
 after all?" 
 
 "Who knows?" mentally answered -Talbot, as he 
 passed forward, puffing a cigar, and pressing the pocket 
 which contained the precious paper. 
 
 The summer came, and passed into the fall, and the 
 joyous echos of the cane-cutters resounded through 
 
214 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 the densely covered field. Ormond had improved in 
 health. 
 
 "I really believe, Hall," said he one day to the 
 father-in-law of Dr. Grant, who was on a visit to him, 
 as they were walking slowly along to the sugar-house ; 
 " I really believe that I shall get well after all ; and if 
 I care about recovering, it is for the sake of my 
 children." 
 
 "I know that you are much stronger than you 
 were," answered his friend, looking at him with affec 
 tion ; " and you know with what delight your friends 
 witness your amendment." 
 
 " Ah ! Hall, I have kind and warm friends indeed." 
 
 " I believed once that I should have the sorrow to 
 witness your death, Ormond ; but God has listened to 
 your prayers as well as mine." 
 
 " I have been chastened heavily," he answered, with 
 a sigh ; " but the Almighty has seen fit for me to sur 
 vive the sad blow." 
 
 " "We have all of us had onr heart-strings strained 
 near to breaking, Ormond. Poor Caroline ! she sleeps 
 in a foreign land." Here a large ifear stole down the 
 cheek of the kind father, at the recollection of his 
 daughter's fate. "I wonder where "Grant is now?" 
 he suddenly asked. 
 
 "God knows! You have never heard from him 
 since that sorrowful event ?" 
 
 "No." V 
 
 " I wish I could be with him." 
 
 "I think if you could have gone to Paris when 
 you spoke of it, Ormond, you would have recovered 
 long since, and even now a sea voyage would benefit 
 you." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 215 
 
 " I hardly think it advisable to leave home now, 
 Hall ; but next spring, if I am spared, I will go for 
 my children. Zoe is now sixteen years old, and she 
 must take her mother's place in the family." 
 
 " They must be very lovely girls now. * I would 
 have visited them if I had gone to Italy before poor 
 Caroline died ; but you remember I was not at home 
 when that black, black letter came." 
 
 Nothing more was spoken for a few minutes, until 
 they arrived at the sugar-house. 
 
 " I see that young man, Talbot has returned to the 
 city ?" 
 
 " Yes, he returns to his business. I shall always 
 feel grateful to him for his kind attention to me while 
 I really needed it." 
 
 " Well, Ormond, I am thankful to him also, and do 
 not think hard of me if I speak my mind ; but I can 
 not say if I am right. It is impossible for me to like 
 that man. I can not believe that he is sincere. There 
 is too great a desire to conciliate ; it is apparent in all 
 he does. I never trust a man who is ever striving 
 against his natural feelings to become popular, except 
 he is a candidate for some office, and then it is policy. 
 But I pray God I may be deceived, and that you may 
 find him true." 
 
 "'I disliked him myself at first, but time has- worn 
 off my prejudices." 
 
 " I may not be right, Ormond ; but mark me if that 
 man does not show the cloven foot yet." 
 
 " Godtforbid ! Hall. I would not be deceived ; for 
 I wish the young man well, and it is my intentionj*^^ 
 act a good part by him." 
 
 " I shall never have any confidence in him." 
 
 
216 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "I would give a great deal to hear of Grant," said 
 Ormond, turning the conversation. 
 
 " And I," answered the other. " I much fear from 
 his silence that he lives no longer." , 
 
 " Oh 1 for those once happy days of peace and tran 
 quillity, when, with dear friends around us, we feared 
 no interlopers, no stratagems; but those days have 
 gone forever, and happiness is no longer ours." 
 
 " Our loss is great, Ormond ; but time will bring 
 healing on its wings." 
 
 " How contented, how perfectly satisfied we once 
 were ! Our pleasant meetings, our pic-nics, our 
 hunts do you remember them ?" 
 
 " All, all ! and I remember that dinner in the woods, 
 when Hartley was first brought here. What a clever 
 gentleman he was ! I was not there, but I heard the 
 doctor and Herndon often laugh about it, and describe 
 Pierre's big drink." 
 
 " Yes, yes," sighed Ormond ; " how strange Hartley 
 never wrote !" 
 
 " 'Tis the way of the world." 
 
 " The world ! it is not so bright to me as of yore ; 
 the sun is darker, the flowers have lost their fragrance, 
 and when the spring breezes pass gently by me, they 
 carry sorrow on their wings; there is a breathing 
 melancholy in all nature. I sometimes catch myself 
 going to the chamber which she used to occupy, with 
 some message in my mind ; and Lstartje myself with 
 the echo of her name on my lips, as it-sounds through 
 the deserted chamber. I hear 'her voice i^the even- 
 winds, and every perfume Wih^ch is^JSfeed past 
 reminds me of the lost. Alan eM x stem to Lear 
 lysterious voices in the ajtfkid ' 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 217 
 
 the stirring of unseen wings near my cheek. Are we 
 not watched by our friends in the spirit land? Do 
 they not guard us ? Are they not near us ? Do they 
 not rejoice in our joy, and sorrow at our unhappi- 
 ness?" 
 
 " This may be true, Ormond ; but your silent mus 
 ings have affected your mind ; it is not healthy. 
 Mingle more in the world ; try to take an interest in 
 other affairs ; do not give way to such morbid fancies j 
 they will work you an injury." 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Plots and counterplots." 
 "He who spreads a snare for others often gets caught himself." 
 
 HHHE reader will now imagine a period of two years 
 -*- passed away since the last-described scene. 
 
 The characters of our history remain in the same 
 situation in which we left them. Ormond had gradu 
 ally improved in health, until he acquired a seeming 
 vigor of constitution as in earlier days, and at times he 
 was almost lively. He had deferred his trip to France 
 until Zoe and Estelle were so urgent to return that he 
 proposed to go for them. Dr. Grant had never been 
 heard from, and his friends supposed him dead. Tal- 
 bot was still a clerk, and Stamps also had a situation 
 in the same house. As often as Talbot met Ormond 
 in the street, he came to the conviction that he had 
 counted without his host, and the memory of the 
 words he once heard, " Who knows but it's best to be 
 honest after all," often came into his mind. .As his 
 hopes died off in proportion as the health of Ormond 
 increased, so his intimacy with Stamps was lessened. 
 Poor Ormond ! little did you dream when you met 
 the viper in JOMT walks, when you kindly gave him 
 your hand, and offered your purse so generously, when 
 warm pressure of your hand was returned, little 
 you know that at that^ery moment the cold 
 blooded scoundrel was H^^Bpting on your death; 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 219 
 
 that the rosy hue of your cheek sent a death -blow to 
 the hopes which he was cherishing. But so it was ; 
 for he was Talbot still. 
 
 But a change was again to creep over the good and 
 pure, the high-hearted Ormond ; and although the 
 health of this noble^ man seemed restored, there was 
 in his breast a secret agent at work, slowly *but surely 
 sowing the seeds of death. And this was hastened by 
 a severe cold which he caught on the lake, by the up 
 setting of a boat. 
 
 During the winter, his disease was much benefited 
 by remaining close in the sugar-house, while they 
 were boiling sugar ; but when the crop was taken off, 
 his cough returned, and his friends were anxious for 
 him to try the effects of a sea-voyage. lie, at their 
 urgent entreaties, sailed for New York, intending to 
 take a vessel thence for France and Italy. He reached 
 New York ; and a month's sojourn, awaiting the ar 
 rival of Herndon, who had remained at the North 
 during all this time, convinced him that it was useless 
 to struggle now with the disease. His medical advisers 
 candidly informed him that his lungs were much 
 affected, and counseled him at once to repair to Lou 
 isiana. He returned home to die. Herndon arrived 
 in New York three days after he had left, and his 
 business would not permit him to follow him. His 
 whole fortune, save his planting interest, was involved 
 in the great commercial crisis at this period ; and he 
 remained, fighting with the harpies of Wall-street for 
 his rights. He had intended long since to return to 
 Louisiana ; but his legal friends advised him to remain 
 on the ground. Rej^ji also said that he intended to 
 introduce a New ]^Bfiri<l bride to the Creoles of 
 
Iho 
 
 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Louisiana. At all events, he found some inducement 
 to remain ; and, save a voyage to England, he had 
 never left the scene of his labors. 
 
 Orniond arrived in New Orleans. Talbot met him 
 in the street after landing, and was startled by the 
 look of extreme emaciation and suffering which he 
 exhibited. He noticed it, and smiled, attributing it to 
 the shock at seeing the change. 
 
 " It is nothing but natural. You see I can not last 
 long." 
 
 " You look very badly, sir ; " returned he ; " for 
 when you sailed for New York, it was said you were 
 improving." 
 
 " I had improved much, but it was only temporary. 
 I became worse immediately, and I feel that my days 
 are numbered." 
 
 He insisted on Talbot's calling on him while he 
 remained in the city, and slowly walked to the 
 hotel. 
 
 " Now," exclaimed Talbot, as he watched the reced 
 ing, but still portly form of his benefactor, " now 
 comes the tug of war ! Ormond, I feel sorry for you. 
 Still calm and proud amid your decay a noble ruin ; 
 but oh I I feel more for myself, who have been so long 
 crushed under the gaunt hand of poverty and con 
 tempt : still, I would even save you if I could ; but I 
 can not, and the time has arrived which makes or mars 
 me." 
 
 That evening he sought Stamps ; they were together 
 all the evening. He now exhibited a great deal of 
 g;ood fellowship for him. Poor Stamps was delighted, 
 for he still felt an attachment fo^Talbot. 
 
 " "We have not been, as intJHBe as we used to be, 
 
V V 
 
 THE CREOLE ORPH^I^^' 221 
 
 Billy," he remarked, as they seated themselves at the 
 table of an oyster-saloon. 
 
 " No, Tolly ; but you know I always did like you, 
 though you have rather cut me lately, when you got 
 among them big relations of yours." 
 
 " Oh ! that is a mistake of yours, Billy ; I aljvays 
 thought the same of you. You know a man must 
 show some attention to his relations ; but let it be 
 all forgotten. I will pledge you*frr%, bottle of wine. 
 You know I can not drink any thing strong. Here, 
 waiter ! a bottle of Hock." 
 
 " Well, Tolly, don't order any of that sour stuff for 
 me ; I would rather drink good vinegar." 
 
 " What will you have then, Billy?"' 
 
 "Brandy! brandy! Tolly." 
 
 The order was given again, and brandy brought for 
 Stamps. " That 's the liquor for the souls of men," 
 exclaimed he, fondly tapping the decanter. 
 
 " Here is to our old friendship, Billy," said Talbot ; 
 "jnay it never decay." 
 
 " I '11 drink to that, with pleasure, Tolly ; and here 
 is a hand and a heart that never failed a friend." 
 
 " In that relation, Billy, I may have occasion for 
 them sooner than you expect." 
 
 " Ah ! the sooner the better." 
 
 " Billy, listen to me. Suppose I were to tell you 
 that the time draws near when we have to act ; that 
 the period is approaching, when the ripe fruit is to be 
 shaken by the autumn wind into our lap." 
 
 " The Lord send it along quickly !" he exclaimed, 
 fervently, " and let me be in at the gathering." 
 
 " Well, my boy, I have looked for signs, and they 
 have been given me. 
 
 '. have 
 
 " 
 
222 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " What is one of the signs, Tolly ?" 
 
 " One of the signs is, that some of the obstacles 
 between the property and myself are about to be re 
 moved by death." 
 
 " What, not that old gentleman that has been so 
 kino^ to you ? the one, I mean, who was so distressed 
 by the death of his wife." 
 
 " The same." f 
 
 11 Well, Tolly f and could you sit by, and think of 
 yourself when you saw that he was suffering ?" 
 
 "Well, well, n not exactly," replied Talbot, 
 alarmed, lest the cold-hearted fiendishness of the thing 
 should disgust even his tool. " The fact is, this prop 
 erty, by right, belongs to our family ; and after his 
 death, I am the nearest collateral heir. It is nothing 
 but fair that I should inherit after him. Come, Billy, 
 take another drink," he continued, seeing Stamps con 
 tract his forehead, and bend his eyes thoughtfully 
 down on the table. " Here is to you; and when we 
 take possession, we will have the best horses, and good 
 liquor, and cigars, all the time." 
 
 " Ah, Tolly," he said, tossing off a glass of brandy, 
 " I never expect to have all those things till I get to 
 heaven, and even then, they will put off some second 
 hand things on me." 
 
 " Ah ! but, my boy, we will have new things ; we 
 will wake up all creation ; come and go when we will, 
 and no one to say a word to us. You will come in for 
 half, you know." 
 
 " That 's too good, Tolly ! but will you do as you 
 say ? Won'$ you, as soon as you have done with me, 
 kick me off, like all the other rich folks do ?" 
 
THE CREOLE OKPHANS. 223 
 
 " No, sir ! but you don't believe your friend would 
 do that? Ah! no, Billy I" 
 
 " I don't think you would ; but I do think it is a 
 heap better to be honest." 
 
 " Oh I yes : who would be guilty of any thing mean ? 
 my very soul scorns it. At the same time, a man 
 must take care of his own interest." 
 
 " Certainly, Tolly, certainly ; and to help you there, 
 I will join you in any thing to make a raise." Here 
 he took another sip of brandy. " But where does this 
 old gentleman live ?" 
 
 " Never mind ! you will find that out too." 
 
 " You are wonderful sly, Tolly ; but here is my 
 hand on it !" he cried, loudly. 
 
 " Look here ! don't tell every body in the room of 
 it," cried Talbot, looking around him, alarmed. 
 
 " "Well, I won't ; but what is it you want me to 
 do?" 
 
 " "Well, you know that before a man takes possession 
 of his property there are certain formalities to go 
 through with, all mere formalities, though." 
 
 "Oh, yes, certainly! that is, I suppose so, for I 
 never had to go through much ceremony in taking 
 charge of my property ; but I will do any thing for 
 you in the world except swear to a lie, and Tolly, I '11 
 be hanged if I do that; no Sirree! My poor old 
 mother, God bless her, she 's gone now ; she used to 
 make me kneel down by her side o' nights when I was 
 a little shaver, and she used to say in her soft good 
 voice, ' Never tell a lie, my son.' " 
 
 "But telling one for a friend, is not swearing to one 
 Tolly." 
 
 c{ No, it is not the same," he replied, hesitatingly. 
 
224 THE CREOLE ORPHAN'S. 
 
 "Not at all, it's done every day." 
 
 " The more 's the pity ; but what am I to do ?" 
 
 " There is no lie in the case. I do not know that 
 there will be any part for you to act at all ; I may 
 have to send you away, maybe not ; but you will be 
 well paid, and you must do what you have to perform 
 well, for the other side will employ the best counsel." 
 
 " Of course they will ; but where will I have to go 
 to?" 
 
 " To France, maybe." 
 
 " To France ! why why I speak French as well 
 as I do Turkish, ha, ha ! but that 's a good one. And 
 for what?" 
 
 "lean not tell you yet, Billy," returned Talbot, 
 who saw that he had gone far enough. " I will have 
 to study on it." 
 
 " Yery well, Tolly, through fire or water, it 's the 
 same to me ; here 's to you. I wish 1 had to start to 
 morrow ; only say the word, and I am off, you know 
 that when I am under a promise I never fail." 
 
 "Yes, but you talk too loud; you are attracting 
 the attention of every body in the room ; come and 
 let us walk out, and I will tell you more." Then 
 rising and settling with the barkeeper, he drew Stamp's 
 arm through his own, and they left the room. 
 
 Down the street they walked, arm in arm, Talbot 
 studying in what way to bind his companion to him 
 in such a manner that he could not retract ; and he in 
 a half drunken state, leaning heavily on Talbot's arm, 
 with visions of wine and women floating in an indis 
 tinct manner through his mind. They walked on and 
 turned down into a broad street ; a handsome row of 
 
THE CKEOLE OK P HANS. 225 
 
 trees occupied the center ; they passed over and found 
 themselves under the frowning arch of a church. 
 
 "Billy," said Talbot, as they seated themselves 
 upon the cold stone steps " this is a matter which re 
 quires all our thoughts, and although it may seem 
 premature to give it such attention now, I believe it is 
 the best to be prepared and have every thing under 
 stood beforehand ; it is no boy's play, but a struggle 
 for wealth and power ; a something which we have at 
 a distance. seen " at a sublime height years ago, and 
 never expected in reality to reach. Such a situation 
 is now offered to us as will insure to us the extent of 
 our desires the remainder of our life. The next ques 
 tion is, will you join me and stand by me, or have 
 you any scruples?" 
 
 " No, Tolly I I have told you I would pack my 
 trunk and start right away, if you want me." 
 
 " Well, that is right ; listen ! We are all actuated 
 by self-interest, every one is for himself here in this 
 great city as every where else ; the big merchants they 
 swindle the poor devils of planters ; they again crowd 
 the negroes ; the lawyers, they keep difficulties alive, 
 while the doctors pray for cholera and yellow fever ; 
 and thus it is all around ; even here in this building, 
 which every Sunday resounds to the song of praise, 
 even its high priest talks for glory and self-interest ; 
 the doctrine is ' Let God take care of the rich, the 
 poor can take care of themselves.' " 
 
 " I think you. ought to have studied for the minis 
 try, Tolly, you are a pretty good talker." 
 
 "Pshaw! listen to me; I wish you to swear here 
 on the steps of this holy building ; we will then un 
 derstand each other. If you will aid me in every 
 
 10* 
 
226 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 manner, and implicitly obey without hesitation, any 
 request I may make, I will divide with you. There 
 are two young girls in the case. They are in Paris, 
 and if we ever get possession I will have power over 
 them. You shall have one of them, and a portion of 
 the property. Will you join me ?" 
 
 Stamps had listened ; he was now sobered by the 
 walk and the cool air ; he arose, 
 
 " Tolly, you have got me on a weak point ; keep 
 your promise to me, and / will be faithful to you. 
 Yes !" he continued, "I swear by the memory of my 
 old gray -headed mother, to be true to you, even at the 
 sacrifice of my own life." 
 
 "Only swear in that manner!" cried Talbot, rising, 
 and facing him closely, " only swear in that manner, 
 and then we will ratify the bargain, and divide the 
 spoil ; for the time is not distant when he will be laid 
 with his fathers, the death mark is on his brow." 
 
 " I do, I do 1" answered he. His friend answered 
 not a word, but stretched forth his hand and .grasped 
 the other: he held it a moment the contract was 
 formed. 
 
 A few evenings after saw Talbot in close and con 
 fidential conversation with an attorney. He occupied 
 a little, low, dingy, dirty office in an obscure street. 
 Talbot had thought it was now time to seek legal ad 
 vice ; he was determined not to commit himself in 
 any manner, and had sought the acquaintance of Jo- 
 siah Hiver, Esquire, for the purpose of consulting him, 
 and candidly made a true statement of the whole af 
 fair. 
 
 This Hiver was the very man of all others whom 
 he should have sought. Kicked from the bar in the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 227 
 
 North, lie lived here in this den, but gained consider 
 able notoriety from ever being the champion of the 
 prosecutor. Low and sordid in his own tastes, he 
 comprehended all which Talbot required at once ; and 
 by the present payment of a fee, swore to remain faith 
 ful, and be on hand when he was wanting. 
 
 " If the facts are borne out by an examination, sir," 
 he answered, " I can riot apprehend any difficulty at 
 all. The children can not inherit, that is certain, for 
 what says the law." Here he turned over the leaves 
 of a large folio and read : " Illegitimate children can 
 not claim the rights of legitimate children. But if 
 they were legitimated by a subsequent marriage, there 
 would be no obstacle to their heirship do you see?" 
 
 "IdoF 
 
 " Well, when there are no legitimate children and 
 no descendants, the natural children may inherit one 
 third to one fourth of the estate ; or, they claim ali 
 mony, provided they are acknowledged ; now, in this 
 case there is no acknowledgment ?" 
 
 " None at all, I am confident." 
 
 "Where are these children now?" 
 
 " In France," he answered, and then added 
 
 " I have neglected to say to you, from all I have 
 learned, that the mother of these girls was a Quadroon, 
 and a slave" 
 
 "The devil! Well, that alters' the whole case, for 
 if the children of this woman are not slaves also, then 
 you can eat me, sir I they are slaves sir, and as such 
 can not inherit. You as the nearest heir come in; 
 you claim the administration, take charge of the prop 
 erty, and dictate your own terms. I would claim 
 them, sir! claim them; they are your property; the 
 
228 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 law will hear you out; all right as a trivet, sir! 
 Mother was never manumitted previous to her death ! 
 She died a slave ; the children follow the condition of 
 the mother. But if she was manumitted we will find 
 it out. We must move cautious in this matter ; the 
 estate is large, and there will probably be high counsel 
 employed on the other side." 
 
 " I do not believe that there will be any thing done ; 
 but we must, as you say, not move in the dark." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you are right, but there may be some 
 lien or tacit mortgage on it. Keep dark. How long 
 can the present incumbent possibly last ?" 
 " I think not over two months." 
 " Probably not over as many weeks, eh ?" 
 The light burned dimly in that little office. There 
 sat those two black-hearted villains, like ravenous 
 vultures, preparing to pounce down upon the kind 
 and good, who lay upon a bed of sickness, calmly 
 passing away to the tomb. There they sat. The one 
 with his sharp and peaked nose, his high, uneven 
 forehead, his shaven temples and pursed mouth ; the 
 other, with all the cunning of a fiend, and the avarice 
 of a miser, plotting the ruin of two innocent girls, and 
 coolly calculating the death of such a man as Ormond. 
 But, poor fellow 1 you were good, and pure, and 
 dreamed it not. Much more conversation ensued of 
 the same import. Talbot well knew that he had a 
 great stake to play for, and determined not to lose it 
 by an ill-advised move. He knew there would be 
 opposition, but his own knowledge convinced him 
 that it would be useless to struggle with him ; for the 
 law itself, in fault of other heirs, would sanction his 
 inheritance; and he was now preparing to prove the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 229 
 
 daughters of his friend were not capable of inheriting. 
 His designs on the girls, now grown up to woman 
 hood, were not developed in his own mind; being of 
 a sensual disposition, he held female virtue in such low 
 estimation that he fully believed that if they knew 
 they were dependent on his bounty, they could be 
 easily forced to yield to his wishes. Ah ! little knew 
 he the strength of female virtue. He at the same time 
 intended to act falsely toward Stamps ; and as soon as 
 he found no more use for him, to cut adrift and let 
 him float away. 
 
 He very soon after the above scene with Hiver, 
 visited Ormond, who was still at the hotel ; he did so 
 with a view of actually ascertaining the condition of 
 his victim. He went with the philosophic indifference 
 of a surgeon who incises deeply the diseased member, 
 seemingly unconscious of the agonizing pain he is in 
 flicting. He went with the calmness Q a savant who 
 goes to examine some new specimen ; thus went he to 
 ascertain the physical condition of Ormond, and to 
 speculate on the length of time he would be kept out 
 of the property. But he came with strong expressions 
 of pity and consolation upon his lips. 
 
 Talbot had formed a very strong and favorable im 
 pression upon^ the mind of Pierre, by liberal presents 
 and conversations with him, while residing there ; and 
 as Ormond now returned home, he promised to visit 
 him at an early day, hoping to retain Pierre in his 
 employ, and give him some items. 
 
 He kept his promise. Ormond was fast sinking. 
 He saw Pierre privately, and informed him of the state 
 of his master's health ; and then slipping some money 
 into his hand, he charged him to lay hold of, and keep, 
 
230 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 all papers of whatever kind lie saw, to give to him 
 when he came up again ; and promised him his free 
 dom if ever he came into possession of the property. 
 
 As day by day rolled on, he looked for the dea,th 
 of his benefactor, and with feverish anxiety glanced 
 over the address of every letter which came into the 
 office ; and eagerly read over the deaths in every 
 morning paper. He had further , conversations with 
 his lawyer, and strolled about the street at night with 
 Stamps, exciting his imagination with the description 
 of pleasures he never intended to allow him to par 
 ticipate in ; and training his mind to a fit state for the 
 perpetration of any crime. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 M Keep silence daughter of frivolity, for Death is in that chamber." 
 
 TT was evident to Ormond, and to his friends also, 
 * that he was rapidly declining. That once full 
 form, robust in health, rich in pride of handsome and 
 matured manhood, was now thin and weak. That 
 step, once so proud and firm, was now tottering and 
 vacillating, and he trembled as if age had suddenly 
 come over him. His breath was quick and short, and 
 his eye sparkled with fatal brilliancy. He occupied 
 the time mostly in reading books of a devotional char 
 acter; but he had always exhibited a partiality for 
 newspapers, and he indulged in this even now. He 
 sat in a large cane-chair in the front gallery, gazing at 
 the negroes at work in the field ; and many was the 
 tear which was dropped, and heavy sigh that was 
 heaved, as they passed. His constant companion, 
 however, was poor Marie's prayer-book; and often 
 bitter tears would fall upon the pages as he saw some 
 well-remembered passage, or viewed with a sad heart 
 a turned down leaf, where she had wept and prayed. 
 Sometimes he would receive the visit of a neighbor, 
 and listen listlessly .to his conversation; but all his 
 friends, from feeling, studiously avoided any allusion 
 to his situation. 
 But he noticed their looks of sympathy, their words 
 
232 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 of cheerfulness, when he saw in them no. hope I There 
 was a clergyman in the neighborhood who frequently 
 came to see him, He was a good and pure man, and 
 their conversations frequently turned upon religious 
 subjects. He would freely speak of religion in the 
 abstract, for he had ever been a moral man, and 
 respected the laws of God, but he would listen to no 
 sectarian principles. 
 
 " My friend," he said, one day, as the conversation 
 turned toward baptism, and some particular points of 
 faith, " no more of that, I know, I feel that my allot 
 ted time on earth is short, I have lived out my days in 
 peace ; and have never to my knowledge done injury 
 to man. My sins are those of omission ; I die, I hope 
 a Christian and a gentleman. I embrace no creed, for 
 I have faith in the atoning blood of a dying Saviour, 
 
 I have tried to be a just man ; 
 
 
 
 " ' Prayers now extorted may be vain 
 The hour of mercy past ' 
 
 At all events, I have ever believed in the mercy and 
 love of God to his children, and into His hands will I 
 submit my case." 
 
 A fit of coughing interrupted him, and he fell back 
 in pain. The minister was a sensible man, and a good 
 one, and he saw Ormond was right. 
 
 One evening, just before sunset, as he was reclining 
 in his easy-chair, with his head thrown back, gazing 
 * upward at the gorgeous clouds, as they were piled in 
 the west, his mind was sad, for his thoughts were of 
 his almost orphan children, a step was heard in the 
 gallery ; a hand was gently laid upon his arm ; he 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 233 
 
 turned his head ; it was Herndon ; a quick flush shot 
 over his features. " Why how did you ? 7 ' was all 
 he could gasp out, as he extended both hands. 
 
 " I heard you were ill ; dying, I left my business and 
 hastened to be with you ;" and here his heart grew full, 
 he leaned on his friend's breast, and the tears welled 
 forth freely. Oh, it is a touching thing to see the 
 strong man bowed in grief, to see the convulsive heav- 
 ings of a manly breast, and know that heart is wrung 
 by a terrible agony. But it does no shame to the 
 heart of such a man ; he can weep and be a man 
 still. 
 
 Herndon had Deceived a letter from Mr. Hall, who 
 apprised him of 'Ormond's situation. With a sorrow 
 ful heart he at once left for Louisiana. 
 
 Herndon now remained constantly with his friend ; 
 he only staid at home long enough to his give orders, 
 and then return to Ormond. 
 
 Days came and went, and Herndon remained in 
 close attendance on his companion. As often as he 
 saw him, he would make up his mind to speak to him 
 of his affairs and of his trip to Martinique as he act 
 ually knew nothing of what the reader is aware, for 
 he left previous to their return but when he looked 
 at the calm clear eye of his friend, and noticed his look 
 of quiet contentment, a tear would dim his own. 
 
 The only thing which ever passed between them on 
 the subject, was one day when he had been playing 
 chess with him, which he often did as a relaxation, 
 he said, 
 
 " Herndon, when I am gone, you will find a pack 
 age directed to you, and one for my children. The 
 one for yourself contains my last wishes ; I count upon 
 
234 THE CKEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 you as a friend, and call upon you as a dying man to 
 see them carried out." 
 
 Hern don arose and took his hand ; his lip trembled 
 as he replied, 
 
 " Command me, dear Ormond, in every thing." 
 
 "Nay, nay, my friend," said he, with a half 
 tear and a smile ; " one would think it was you who 
 were dying, instead of myself ; don't look so sorrowful." 
 And the tears would gush into the eyes of his faithful 
 friend, and he had to turn' away to hide them. 
 
 " Another thing, Herndon," he said, when he had sat 
 a few moments, as if absorbed in a reverie ; " I may be 
 eccentric, but it is my wish : lay me in the garden un 
 der the shade of the old oaks, where* she and myself 
 have so often sat ; and then, my friend, I wish her body 
 brought from below, and under those spreading 
 branches, place it by my own. Will you promise me 
 this?" 
 
 " Enough, enough, Ormond, in the name of Grod ; yes 
 have done you shall be obeyed ;" and he raised his 
 hands and pressed them on his breast, as if seeking re 
 lief from some great internal pains. 
 
 Ormond never again alluded to his approaching dis 
 solution, but sat and awaited the coming of the de 
 stroyer with fortitude and resignation. He often 
 spoke of Grant in the most affectionate manner. The 
 servants all seemed anxious to be doing something for 
 his comfort, and frequently stopped on their way to 
 work, to say a kind word to massa. Old Sally vis 
 ited him daily, and generally with some little thing 
 which she had concocted for him. She would talk to 
 him by the hour, and sometimes even make him smile 
 at her earnest manner and odd conceits. 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 235 
 
 " Never mind, massa, de Lord He is good, and I 
 knows dat when de spring comes, and de flowers and 
 de mocking-birds a singin' around, den you will be 
 well agin ; keep good heart, massa." 
 
 "No, no, Aunt Sally," he replied, "when the 
 spring comes, and the flowers and birds, your poor 
 master will lie low, with the grass waving green over 
 him." 
 
 " Now de Lord knows, it nuff to make me mad to 
 hear you talk so ; it's a shame ; you only got a bad cold, 
 and will soon get well." 
 
 A few more days, and Ormond grew weaker, and 
 thinner. He had no strength left now, and had to be 
 drawn into the gallery by Pierre, whom he kept about 
 him, as he was a good nurse. He received his friends 
 with a calm smile of pleasure ; he tried, while they 
 were present, to divert their minds from his situation, 
 and conversed in a low steady tone on different sub 
 jects. But the time was fast drawing nigh when the 
 debt must be paid, and that noble head be bowed ; he 
 grew still weaker and thinner, but his eye retained' its 
 fire, and his mind its tone. He bore his pain so nobly 
 and so uncomplainingly. All who visited him, breath 
 ed an atmosphere of sorrow, which surrounded him 
 like a halo. Thus it was among friends ; but in the 
 silence of his lonely chamber, would he give vent to 
 his feelings ; there would he sit and gaze passionately 
 for hours, at a miniature of Marie, and his thoughts 
 would go back to her, 
 
 " Not lost but gone before." 
 
 And his orphan children too, they were remembered, 
 and then would his bosom swell and his sorrowing 
 
236 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 heart seem fit to burst, at their unprotected situation. 
 He would bury his face in his hands, and the tears 
 would burst through, and trickle down his emaciated 
 fingers, while low moans would escape from his over 
 charged bosom. 
 
 Then a little bell would sound, a servant enter, and 
 administer to him the opiate which solaced him, and 
 eased his terrible cough. 
 
 The prostrating power of the disease was more evi 
 dent daily, and it was plainly to be seen that it would 
 soon be over. Before he became so weak, he was one 
 night sitting writing, Pierre was at the window nod 
 ding. He finished, and sealing the package, exclaimed. 
 
 " Pierre 1" The negro stood before him. 
 
 "Your master will soon be no more, Pierre, and I 
 want you as you love him, listen." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " When I am dead, you will take this paper bundle, 
 Pierre, and give it to Mr. Herndon. Let no one but 
 him have it ; it is important to the interests of your 
 young mistresses. You are faithful, Pierre, and would 
 not deceive your dying master. You love them, 
 Pierre?" 
 
 " Yes, massa ; me nuss 'em long ago." 
 
 " Well, take it then, place it in the locked drawer 
 of the secretary there ; there is the key, and be very 
 careful when all is over to do as I have requested 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, massa ; me gwine to do jest as you tells me." 
 
 Ormond handed the negro the package, and saw 
 him lock it in the drawer as he had directed, which, 
 when he had done, he deposited the key in a wafer- 
 box on the table. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 237 
 
 It was some ten days afterward, he was too weak 
 to rise, and lay on his couch propped up with pillows. 
 It was about twelve o'clock at night, and all was still. 
 Ormond was sleeping sweetly, and lay like an infant 
 taking its rest. Pierre now determined to obtain pos 
 session of the papers, which he knew Talbot would 
 pay well for. He entered the room ; a servant sat on 
 a trunk, leaning against the wall, fast asleep ; he trod 
 softly ; he looked at his master, who lay there uncon 
 scious of the foul wrong about to be done to his un 
 happy children. No feeling of pity found its way to 
 the hardened negro's heart ; no emotion of sorrow 
 stirred in his breast, as he turned and gazed at the 
 attenuated form of the good, kind master and friend ; 
 one who had never put a stripe on him, and who had 
 overlooked many a fault ; whose whole life had been 
 to him one kind action. He started, as Ormond 
 moaned in his sleep uneasily. He approached the 
 servant to see if he were sleeping also ; his deep, regu 
 lar breathing assured him. He grasped the candle, 
 and approached his master's side; he looked at the 
 workings of his countenance ; he was evidently dream 
 ing of happier days, and as the remembrance floated 
 through his mind, the large tears slowly burst through 
 the closed eyelids, and rolled down his cheeks, wet 
 ting the pillow. But no remorse filled the soul of the 
 black demon ; he saw his master was asleep, and hav 
 ing softly unlocked the drawer, abstracted the paper, 
 and, replacing the key, swiftly left the room. 
 
 " Marie, dearest I" sighed Ormond, as the negro dis 
 appeared, "I have found you at last; this is heaven 
 now I" 
 
 " I will soon be gone, Herndon," he said one even- 
 
238 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 ing, as that gentleman sat by his bedside, and had to 
 lean over and put his ear close to the lips of the 
 speaker to distinguish his words, so weak was he. 
 
 " God bless you, my poor friend !" he replied, as he 
 pressed his hand, and his voice was tremulous with 
 emotion. 
 
 "If Grant ever returns," he again whispered, "tell 
 him I loved him to the last, and give my love to 
 him." 
 
 Herndon, seeing how swiftly he was sinking, de 
 termined to remain at his side until it was all over, 
 which he foresaw would not be long. 
 
 The next evening he ordered the servant to remain 
 in his master's chamber, and to call him on the slight 
 est movement. Ormond had, under the influence of 
 opiates, sunk into a sweet and tranquil -slumber. He 
 seemed entirely free from pain. Herndon had not 
 slept a moment the night before, and laid down, but 
 he could not sleep ; he arose and walked to the win 
 dow, gazing out. The moon was there, riding high 
 in the heavens, unconscious of the joys and sorrows 
 she revealed with her mellow light, and the stars 
 hung out their silver lamps, bright and clear. The 
 mocking-bird was among the topmost boughs of the 
 live-qaks in the garden, making the air vibrate with 
 its sweet, wild melody ; the tinkle of the melancholy 
 cow-bell was heard in the distance, and the cricket's 
 chirp sounded loud and distinct. All nature seemed 
 smiling sweetly, though sad. But a dark, heavy 
 mass of clouds hung low in the south, and the wind 
 commenced piping through the trees; the clouds 
 gathered thicker and darker, and the shutters flapped 
 heavily against the side of the house a moment after- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 239 
 
 ward. Herndon was restless and uneasy, and threw 
 himself again upon the bed in the adjoining room, but 
 not to sleep, for he believed that in this commotion 
 of the elements the soul of Ormond would pass away. 
 Again he entered the sick chamber ; he softly walked 
 to the bedside. The patient seemed to be sleeping 
 calmly, but there was a change on his countenance ; 
 he saw it. The eyes had assumed a deeper place in 
 the orbit: the face was covered with a cold and 
 clammy perspiration, and was fast assuming that ca 
 daverous hue so peculiar. Alas! poor Ormond: it 
 was the herald of death ! the bony monster was visi 
 ble, tangible. Herndon hastily awoke the negro who 
 was sleeping in a chair, and bade him go and call the 
 doctor, who was below, and also arouse the overseer, 
 who had remained in the house that night at his 
 request. 
 
 Again he was at the bedside ; the physician came 
 up in a few moments ; he also gazed at the sleeper, 
 and pressing his finger lightly on the pulse, sadly 
 raised his eyes toward Herndon. There was sorrow 
 in that glance ; it needed no words ; there was a con 
 firmation of his worst fears. 
 
 "How long do you think he will last, doctor?" 
 " Not over a few hours ; he may live until daylight, 
 but not longer," was the reply. 
 
 " There he lay, with the impress 
 Indelible, Death's imago on his brow." 
 
 He dispatched servants around among Ormond's 
 nearest friends, who readily obeyed the summons. 
 
 Through the long watches of the night did that 
 group of mourners stand around the couch of the true- 
 
240 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 hearted Ormond, and many were the tears dropped as 
 they gazed at the noble figure lying in the tyrant's 
 grasp. 
 
 The wind without had risen greatly, and an awful 
 storm was careering in its might and power ; and the 
 blast, it shrieked and howled ; and the trees groaned 
 and quivered in their awful contest with the demon of 
 the tempest. Yivid flashes of lightning were seen 
 bursting from tho bosom of the black cloud, to rend 
 the heavens, while the rain in torrents deluged the 
 earth. It was a fearful night, and as the thunder 
 roared in majesty, human beings cowered and shrank 
 with fear. 
 
 But the storm passed off, the wind sank into low, 
 sobbing murmurs, as if in grief, and the dawn opened 
 clear and beautiful. He still lived, still sleeping away 
 the little remnant of time which remained to him ; 
 yet he slept, passing to the deeper and profounder 
 sleep, which knows no waking. 
 
 Several gentlemen now occupied the room. The 
 morning light was shut out by curtains, and a dim 
 twilight pervaded it. The shadow of death had settled 
 on all around. 
 
 He awoke, and, gazing around with a fast glazing 
 eye at his friends, who gathered to the bedside, mur 
 mured, 
 
 " At last, the destroyer has come 1" 
 
 " God's will be done !" exclaimed the deep voice of 
 the minister, who had arrived, " and praised be His 
 holy name I" 
 
 " Amen 1" responded Ormond, fervently ; which 
 was echoed by each one. 
 
 " It is dark," he whispered. 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 241 
 
 " Will you have more light?" was asked. 
 
 A look of assent being given, the curtains were 
 lifted, and the light streamed into the apartment. 
 
 The negroes had assembted around the door outside, 
 and were all clamorous for admittance. At his request 
 it was opened, and they came thronging in. He was 
 too weak to talk, but stretched out his hand to all. 
 As some favorite servant came up, and, seizing his 
 weak hand, wept piteously over it ; he gently smiled. 
 They gathered closer. Some fell on their knees, and 
 wept aloud ; while others kissed the pale hand, and 
 strode out of the room to indulge their grief elsewhere. 
 
 All were gone, and he turned his dying eyes to the 
 circle of sorrowful friends gathered around him ; his 
 eye brightened, and he made an effort to extend to 
 them his hand. Herndon propped him up with pil 
 lows. First one friend, and then another came, and 
 pressed his hand. They were all too much filled with 
 sorrow to say " Farewell ;" but slowly, silently, and 
 sadly, they stepped back. Others now take his thin 
 hand, but they can not say " Adieu I" He falls back 
 exhausted on his pillow, from which he had slightly 
 raised his head. 
 
 Sobs are heard from many ; stifled, it is true, but 
 noble, manly yielding to nature. 
 
 His eyes now turn on Herndon : they speak of love 
 and peace. He approaches his friend, and, taking both 
 his hands, kneels by the couch; he presses them to 
 his bosom, which rises and heaves as a tumultuous 
 sea, and the tears flow in big, scalding drops. But 
 again he rises, and as he places his hand on Ormond's 
 brow, he whispered, " It is come !" and sinks lower 
 down on his pillow, his grasp relaxes, the eyes slowly 
 
 11 
 
242 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 close, and, like a zephyr's breath, or the soft note of 
 some gentle spirit wandering from its sphere, the 
 breath leaves him, and he is dead. 
 
 " It is all over 1" said the clergyman, as he solemnly 
 turned to depart. " Blessed are the dead which die 
 in the Lord." 
 
 Close we now the curtains. The Almighty has 
 taken to the spirit's home the soul which He gave. He 
 has called back a noble, generous, and just being. He 
 rests in peace, . 
 
 ' " 'Mid holy prayers, and generous grief, and consecrating blessings." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust ? 
 Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?" 
 
 GEAY. 
 
 funeral came, with its solemn pageants, its 
 gloomy forms, its grief, and then all was over. 
 
 They laid the honored dead beneath the spreading 
 branches of the noble oak, whose grateful shade had 
 so often sheltered him and his in happier days. 
 There, where the rank grass grew around him, and 
 the banks of violets, and the clematis, breathing soft 
 perfume, as the mournful wind sighed through the 
 limbs ; and the little bird warbled melody he rested, 
 after his weary pilgrimage was over. 
 
 When a proper period had elapsed, and Herndon 
 could nerve himself to revisit those scenes which were 
 fraught with so much emotion, he sought the dwelling 
 of his late friend, and, with an officer of the law, 
 placed a seal upon all papers and valuables. In vain 
 they searched the house for the package which Or- 
 mond had mentioned as bearing the address of Hern 
 don ; and, when masses of documents had been over 
 hauled, and the negroes questioned concerning it, and 
 it did not appear, they came to the. conclusion that he 
 had neglected it. 
 
 " The property will be administered on ?" 
 
 
244 THE CREOLE ORPHAN'S. 
 
 " I presume so, of course," replied Herndon. 
 
 " Who will administer?" 
 
 " I know not." 
 
 " Would not you, as an intimate friend, be the most 
 suitable person to take out letters ?" 
 
 " It will be quite impossible for me to do it. I have 
 my hands full, and may be called to New York any 
 day, on business which must riot be neglected." 
 
 " Who else is there ?"^ 
 
 "No one, except Hall." 
 
 "Are there no relatives besides his children?" 
 
 "None, save a person by the name of Talbot, who 
 resides in New Orleans ; and I would make every op 
 position in my power to prevent the administration 
 being given to him. I would dislike to see him lord 
 ing it over this property. Although, if he makes an 
 application for it, there may be no way of preventing 
 him from obtaining it ; and the only hope is, that he 
 may fail in giving security. I fear we shall have 
 trouble with him. He may also, as the nearest of kin, 
 be appointed curator to the children." 
 
 " There was some talk, a few years ago," remarked 
 the officer, " that it was not quite right between Or- 
 mond and his wife. Is there any truth in it ?" 
 
 Herndon colored up a moment ; his eyes flashed at 
 the lightness with which it was spoken ; but he re 
 membered it was a matter of public notoriety, and 
 that every one did not have the same feelings for his 
 departed friend as filled his bosom. He therefore re 
 plied, calmly, " The matter I dread, is that this per 
 son, Talbot, will be really entitled to the property, 
 as the nearest collateral heir, unless Ormond has had 
 an act of manumission passed, and legalized his mar- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 245 
 
 riage, which. I very much fear he has neglected. He 
 left home with the intention of doing so ; God grant 
 he has done it ; for in that manner alone can his chil 
 dren inherit. In the other case, the property will go 
 to this man." 
 
 " Did the colonel never mention to you the fact of 
 this intention ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; it was a frequent conversation between 
 us ; and he left for the Weit Indies for the purpose of 
 taking action in the matter ; but alas ! all are gone 
 who accompanied him : two are dead, and one, Dr. 
 Grant, if living, is in some foreign country ; for I have 
 not heard of him since the death of his wife ; and I 
 feel convinced that if Ormond had really done any 
 thing, we would have known it. Now, it may be pos 
 sible that Dr. Grant has communicated something of 
 the matter to his father-in-law, Mr. Hall." 
 
 " You know if there can not be some proof found 
 in regard to it, that it will be very plain, and almost 
 useless to contest it." 
 
 "J am aware of that; oh! Ormond, my friend, to 
 what a situation you have reduced those dear children 
 by your only fault, procrastination; noble and pure 
 in all else, you have fearfully neglected their inter 
 ests." 
 
 "It is a great pity that the children should be thus 
 cut out by this upstart. Is there no means to secure 
 a portion at least for them?" 
 
 " Only by the liberality of the heir, unless Ormond 
 did enfranchise his wife. In any other case, the girls 
 are totally in his power. Why, oh ! why did I not 
 speak out, and learn all before he died 1" 
 
 "It may be that he has intrusted the papers to 
 
246 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 some one in the city: his merchant, perhaps, or the 
 bank where he kept his account." 
 
 Herndon brightened up at this idea. " God bless 
 you for that suggestion I" he said. And he determined 
 to go at once to the city, and make a thorough examin 
 ation, and not to give it up until it was folly to hope 
 longer. 
 
 They mounted their horses. Herndon turned and 
 looked back at the housJ| thoughts of sadness filled 
 his bosom. " Oh ! what a change has come over this 
 once happy home," exclaimed he. "Where are the 
 cheerful faces which made this dwelling light with 
 joy ; they are gone, and desolation reigns over all 1" 
 He cast one look toward Ormond's grave, and dashing 
 a tear from his eye, quickly rode after his companion, 
 who had gone on before.- "But Ormond!" he cried 
 with emphasis ; "I will work for your delay I and by 
 the God who judges us all, if your children can be 
 righted I will do it ; and if they can not, they shall be 
 mine and have a home with me 1" 
 
 " You are a noble fellow I" exclaimed the notary, in 
 admiration ; " but you know, Herndon, that if Or 
 mond never did free his wife and children, they are 
 incapable of inheriting, and are still slaves." 
 
 Herndon turned, and his eyes glared with rage at 
 the bare thought. " Let him only dare to breathe that, 
 and I will put things to rights at once, and a comn 
 shall cover his unworthy remains." 
 
 The notary advised him to apply at once for letters 
 on the estate, which he did that evening. He then 
 rode over to the father-in-law of Dr. Grant, to seek 
 some information. The doctor did not reside with his 
 wife's parents, but near them ; he thought it possible 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 247 
 
 that they knew something concerning their trip to the 
 "West Indies ; but no ! when they returned, the ex 
 treme illness of Mrs. Grant had shut out all things 
 else of lesser importance, and he had never mentioned 
 any thing of Colonel Ormond's affairs in connection 
 with the trip. 
 
 He was foiled by fate again, but had the pleasure of 
 learning that a letter had been received from him a 
 few weeks before ; he was then in St. Petersburg, and 
 was en route for Vienna. Herndon sat down and wrote 
 a letter to each of the large cities where Grant had re 
 sided, apprising him of the death of Ormond, and 
 begging him to return at once, to assist him in righting 
 the children of their friend. 
 
 He at the same time wrote a letter to Zoe and Es- 
 telle, detailing all that had occurred, and ended by 
 offering a home to them when they returned. 
 
 He then sat the entire night on the bank of the 
 river alone ; and it was only during the next day, that 
 a steamer came by, and he was enabled to obtain a 
 passage to the city. 
 
 Oh, Talbot, my friend 1 look sharp, for you have an 
 active and vigilant enemy abroad ; he is aroused, and 
 blood-hound like, will return again and again on the 
 track, and earth you at last. He is a man of work, 
 and will leave no stone unturned to upset your de 
 signs ; be careful, or you will fall. 
 
 Herndon stood upon the guards of the boat; she 
 passed Ormond's place ; he looked fondly upon the 
 now tenantless homestead ; the doors and windows 
 closed, and not a living thing to be seen. Yes there 
 was ; it was Ormond's riding horse, a noble bay who 
 was cropping disconsolately in the front yard, ever 
 
248 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 and anon raising his finely-formed head; and with 
 pointed ears watching, and wondering seemingly, why 
 the favorite hand caressed him not. 
 
 Upon arriving in the city he lost no time in making 
 diligent inquiries, but could find no clew to guide 
 him. 
 
 Ormond's factors, nor the bank, had any papers in 
 charge ; and he visited in rotation every notary's and 
 record office, but to no purpose. He then sat down 
 to quietly await the issue of events, determining in 
 his own mind to struggle for the children as long as 
 there was a "peg to hang a hope upon," and then to 
 appeal to the manhood and generosity of Talbot. 
 
 "We said that he visited the office of every notary ; 
 so he did, but there was the ruins of a building then 
 smoking and moldering away, as he passed it. Oh ! 
 had he known that here was the office where his friend 
 had inscribed his name, and delivered his children 
 from bondage. This was the office; it burned last 
 night ; the records were partly consumed, and what 
 were not were carried off by a thoughtless crowd. 
 Alas ! poor orphans ! 
 
 The papers duly chronicled the demise of Ormond, 
 and it instantly caught the eye of Talbot. 
 
 "Now has the game to be boldly played," he said, 
 while a flush of excitement passed over his face ; and 
 he rapidly strode over the pavement in the direction 
 of the office of Hiver. 
 
 "Well, sir!" he exclaimed breathlessly, as he 
 rushed into the den, and into the presence of the wor 
 thy attorney, who was engaged in red-taping a quan 
 tity of papers; "the game has commenced, and you 
 must be ready to accompany me." 
 

 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 249 
 
 "What? eh?" he exclaimed, smacking his ifiouth 
 and chewing his tobacco violently, while the filthy 
 * juice coursed in a stream down from each corner of 
 his mouth. 
 
 "Has the old gentleman earthed himself at last?" 
 
 " At last ! at last ! and I have lost no time in calling 
 on you, I intend applying at once for letters on the 
 estate." 
 
 " Ah, exactly, sir, exactly. Well, there is but one 
 way, sir ; and that is as you say to go up at once 
 be in time, and apply for letters. You will be put in 
 possession, and you know that possession gives title." 
 
 " You think that I have the best right to administer ?" 
 
 " Think ! of course. You are the nearest legal 
 heir ; they can't keep you out of it at all. We will 
 do every thing according to law ; and then, you see, 
 no advantage can be taken of us. I am a law-abiding 
 man, sir; indeed, I may say that it is my meat and 
 drink. Ha, ha ! Well, sir, I am ready to accompany 
 you when you will." 
 
 " Yery good ; then meet me in three hours in the 
 bar-room of the Hotel." 
 
 " Good, I am there. I have a friend to see, with 
 whom I have a little business, when I go away." 
 
 " Think well on it, Hiver, and don't let us commit 
 ourselves." 
 
 " Bah ! I have not been in law for twenty years to 
 make a, faux pas now. I will put you straight, if you 
 will only keep so." As Talbot turned to go out, he 
 called after him. " Ah ! I say, that was a very lucky 
 fire night before last ! Ha, ha, ha I wasn't it ? every 
 paper and book burned up, and the last evidence 
 destroyed against you. Surely the gods befriend you." 
 
 11* 
 
250 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 v 
 
 " The devil, perhaps," said Talbot, bitterly. 
 
 " Maybe so, maybe so !" laughed Hiver, " but it 
 was a little remarkable, was it not? It saved us a 
 world of trouble ; but we will make a good thing of it." 
 
 Talbot walked off. 
 
 "The crafty old villain," he muttered; "we will 
 make a good thing of it. Yes, we will ; but I will 
 take good care that you don't make much out of it ; 
 let me get into possession once, and I '11 soon cut clear 
 of you. All you want is to get me into your toils, 
 and have a fat pigeon to pluck ; but maybe you will." 
 
 Hiver stood in his dingy office ; and, as he watched 
 the receding form of Talbot, he bent his brows ; ex 
 claiming, " The upstart ! he already assumes airs ; he 
 is a rascal, and would just as soon rob an orphan, or 
 burn a will, as not ; he is timid and suspicious. I '11 
 watch him ; for as soon as he gets into possession, he 
 would just as soon drop me as a hot horse-shoe, and 
 pick up some of our fashionable lawyers up town ; but 
 I '11 keep him in check, and feather my nest any how." 
 
 Such was the opinion of two great rascals of each 
 other. 
 
 Talbot hastens up town; he calls at his place of 
 business ; states to his employer the fact of the death 
 of his relation, and of his intention to administer on 
 the estate. They accepted his resignation. Stamps, 
 at his request, followed suit. To a clothing-store they 
 then repaired, and fitted themselves out in a suit of 
 black ; and, as the hour drew near, sought the appoint 
 ment with Hiver, whom they found awaiting them. 
 
 'Not many hours elapsed before they were steaming 
 up the Mississippi. Talbot already felt his import 
 ance ; and as he puffed his cigar, and sported a large 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 251 
 
 gold-headed cane on deck, he cast a look of super 
 cilious contempt on all around. 
 
 " "Well, we should make a pretty thing of it now, if 
 there were a paper to be drawn on us in open "court, 
 enfranchising the wife and children," exclaimed Hiver. 
 
 "Don't conjure up phantoms, Hiver; there is no 
 danger of that. I have heard conversations enough 
 to satisfy myself." 
 
 Hiver, crafty and unprincipled, gave him many 
 useful hints as to the course to be pursued, and placed 
 him in a safe position in regard to the succession. 
 Pooi? Stamps! he was overjoyed; and felt as if he 
 owned all Louisiana. He stood on the guards, and 
 every now and then asked Talbot in a loud voice, 
 " Is our plantation any thing like that one?" pointing 
 to some handsome residence. This mortified Talbot 
 excessively, who took Stamps aside, and represented 
 tcuhim the ridicule to which he was exposing himself. 
 Stamps promised amendment; and kept his word 
 while Talbot was present; but as soon as he had 
 walked off, he was describing our plantation to a com 
 pany of strangers, and gave many an invitation to 
 stop. He grew very vivacious, drank freely, and 
 every stranger who would drink with him shared his 
 generosity. He even got down among the deck 
 hands, and treated several of them. 
 
 At last the well-known place was brought in view, 
 and Talbot felt some queer emotions, which he could 
 not account for. 
 
 Upon reaching the plantation, Talbot took posses 
 sion, and installed himself in the dwelling. It was 
 evening, but the overseer at once dispatched a mes 
 senger for Mr. Herndon ; who came at the summons, 
 
252 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 and proceeded to the house. In the gallery he met 
 Talbot, whose countenance fell when he saw him. 
 There was evident restraint on his part, when he 
 greeted Herndon, whose lip was compressed, and 
 whose brow lowered. He was at first furious; but 
 upon second thoughts, he calmed himself as well as 
 he could. 
 
 " Mr. Talbot," he observed, after a long silence ; 
 " I learn that you come to take possession of this prop 
 erty?" 
 
 " That was my intention, sir," he answered, but in 
 evident agitation. 'Jib s 
 
 " It appears that you are acting under advictf, sir. 
 I presume that you come prepared with ample proof 
 that you are really the relation of Colonel Ormond?" 
 
 "He was my cousin, by my mother's side," he 
 answered, averting his eyes ; "he always acknowl 
 edged me as his relation, and I do not see that any 
 one is called to dispute it." 
 
 " Sir," replied Herndon, sternly; " I was the dear 
 friend of Ormond ; we were more than usually inti 
 mate. I loved him; a nobler or purer man never 
 lived. If you are the relation of my deceased friend, 
 you must substantiate that fact ; and, sir, until you do, 
 you can not claim any thing here. If you ever do 
 own a slave on this place, you must do it under the 
 sanction of the law ; and, if you try to take any advan 
 tage of your situation, you shall answer to me per 
 sonally." 
 
 " I will protect the interests of my client," exclaimed 
 Hiver. 
 
 " And who the deuce are you, sir ?" asked Herndon, 
 with a glance of supreme disdain. 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 253 
 
 " I am tlie attorney, sir, of my friend, Mr. Talbot, 
 who has done me the honor of selecting me from the 
 bar of New Orleans ; and we desire nothing but what 
 is fair and right." 
 
 " I will see that you have it, sir." 
 
 " The children of Colonel Ormond can not inherit 
 they are illegitimate ; and, if you examine the law, 
 you will find that I am correct. At least, we will try 
 it on that ground, for they never have been acknowl 
 edged. They can not even claim alimony ; and, if re 
 port speaks true, they could not inherit even were there 
 no legal heir they have never been even emancipated." 
 
 " I am obliged to you for your information," said 
 Herndon, bitterly ; "I do not know if it is as you 
 represent ; but I will know. I am aware that Ormond 
 left here for the purpose once ; and I assure you that 
 I will move heaven and earth to see the orphans 
 righted. I advise you, Mr. Talbot, to be very cautious 
 in your actions ; for this matter has to be taken into 
 court ; and I shall contest your claim." 
 
 " We do not fear you on a fair trial," said Hiver ; 
 " and we defy you or any one else to uptrip us." 
 
 " Did I speak to you, sir?" replied Herndon, casting 
 a withering look of rebuke and contempt, upon the 
 abashed lawyer ; who timidly stammered, "N n no 
 sir." 
 
 " Well, then, wait until I do. Mr. Talbot, I see you 
 have had advisers. I shall not take any advantage of 
 you ; and I only hope, if you are successful in defraud 
 ing the orphan children of your benefactor, that you 
 will, at least, act magnanimously." 
 
 Talbot was about to reply, when Hiver quickly in- 
 
254 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 terposed, " No no, sir I I can not allow my client to 
 commit himself in any manner." 
 
 "Miserable puppy!" cried Herndon, his eyes shin 
 ing like those of an enraged tiger, " I have half a mind 
 to kick you from the gallery. If the man had a noble 
 thought, you would blight it with your poisonous 
 breath." 
 
 " If you were to offer violence to me, I would com 
 mence an action against you." 
 
 " Confound your action," he answered, " keep si 
 lence in my presence." 
 
 " Mr. Talbot, you can not remain here, as you ought 
 to have known. I will not have the dwelling of my 
 friend polluted and even the sound of your blackguard 
 ism, echoing over his newly made grave." 
 
 " Mr. Herndon," he answered at a wink from Hiver, 
 " I desire nothing but justice ; if I gain the case, no man 
 shall reproach me for a want of generosity. I loved 
 Ormond, and the tears I have shed are not few. I 
 shall take no liberty but with your consent. I will 
 quietly remain here until the decision of the suit, if 
 there is one commenced ; but I believe you will think 
 better of it ; you are much mistaken in me, sir." 
 
 " God grant it," he said fervently, " the law will de 
 cide it, but as for staying here, that is out of the ques 
 tion. Why, the very corpse of Ormond would rise and 
 walk in its shroud, at such desecration ; no, sir, you 
 must leave here in the morning." 
 
 Having spoken this with a determined air, he step 
 ped from the gallery, mounted his horse, and rode 
 away with dignity. 
 
 " There goes a determined fellow," said Hiver, " and 
 one who should be propitiated ; but we are safe, and he 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 255 
 
 knows it. "When a man begins to talk of a compro 
 mise, and being generous, his case is bad." 
 
 " Well, all I hate is that we have to leave such com 
 fortable quarters." exclaimed Stamps, " where in thun 
 der can we stay ?" 
 
 "Down at /'replied Talbot. "I tell you, I 
 
 can't enjoy myself here now. I am all the time think 
 ing how often I have seen Ormond here in this gallery, 
 and I almost expect to hear his voice every moment 
 now.' I can see him all the time, as he used to look ; 
 and, when Herndon spoke of his walking in his shroud 
 the very flesh crept on my bones. No, no, we will go 
 down to in the morning, and get a good comfort 
 able place to stay until we get the letters." 
 
 " And then take possession," said Hiver, " that 's the 
 way to do it." 
 
 A walk was now proposed over the estate. We will 
 not attempt a description of the feelings of Talbot, as 
 they roamed over the wide domain, and viewed the 
 fields of waving cane, the product of which might be 
 all his own. He remembered when he first came, a 
 beggar, now in a situation to dispute possession. 
 
 " Truly this is a splendid property," exclaimed 
 Hiver, as they once more entered the yard on their 
 return ; " and one to battle bravely for." / 
 
 Each echoed the sentiment. 
 
 Upon the death of Ormond, all the servants about 
 the house had been placed in the field, except old Syl 
 via, Marie's nurse, and a few ancient negroes in the 
 Quarter. Eobert was now sent back, to pay attention 
 to the self-made guests, and prepare for them, 
 
 It was night, and the three friends were sitting in 
 the parlor ; lights were brought in, and after the meal 
 
256 THE CEEOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 was over, which none enjoyed, they again returned to 
 the room. There was a strange uncomfortable sensa 
 tion about the guests, that they could not shake off; 
 every thing seemed so cold, dead and silent ; so un 
 like what would be expected to be the feelings of an 
 heir, just taking possession of a splendid estate. 
 Around Talbot's heart, there was a cold, dead weight 
 clinging as if the icy hands of the departed encircled 
 it, compressed it, and was stopping its pulsations. He 
 wished that it was daylight. 
 
 " "Well if this house is not haunted," exclaimed the 
 lawyer ; " I never could believe I could be so singularly 
 affected." 
 
 All confessed to the same feeling. 
 
 " Kobert," asked Talbot, " is there not some kind of 
 spirit here ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, plenty of it." 
 
 " Then let us have some, my good boy." 
 
 The servant retired, and in a few minutes, entered, 
 bearing a decanter. Stamps took it, and was about to 
 fill a glass when, he suddenly exclaimed, "It is 
 blood." 
 
 The shock to all three was so great that they sprang 
 to their feet, and remained looking in each other's faces 
 in alarm. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Hiver, taking the decanter, 
 " Why it is brandy only." No one spoke and none 
 could drink. 
 
 Talbot walked out to the gallery. He had noticed 
 that he had seen nothing of Pierre since his arrival, 
 and he was now wondering where he was, as he stood 
 leaning against the hand-rail at the end of the house. 
 As he remained in that position, musing with his eyes 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 257 
 
 cast toward Ormond's grave, a shudder passed over his 
 frame. At this moment he fancied he observed a move 
 ment in the shrubbery near the gate. Timid as well as 
 very suspicious, he was about to withdraw, fearing he 
 hardly knew what, when he heard a low whistle in 
 the direction. He watched closely, and was about to 
 retreat hastily when he heard his own name pro 
 nounced in a whisper. Surprise for a moment rendered 
 him motionless ; but he thought an instant, and then 
 in a low tone asked. 
 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 " Me/' was the reply. 
 
 "And who is me?" 
 
 "Pierre." 
 
 " Oh, Pierre ; where did you come from, Pierre ?" 
 
 No answer was returned ; but the speaker advanced 
 from the shadow of the evergreens, and softly came to 
 where Talbot was standing. He drew close up to him 
 and pulling a package from his bosom, the same he 
 had stolen from his master's cabinet, as we have de 
 tailed, placed it in Talbot's hands, Just then Stamps 
 came out, and with a spring Pierre threw himself over 
 the hand-rail, and disappeared in the darkness. Tal 
 bot hastily concealed the package in his bosom. 
 
 They all retired, but not to sleep. Hiver, to study 
 and dream of the fat fees he saw in prospect. Stamps 
 felt that he had got a home at last, and so that he had 
 his necessary wants supplied, and his passions grati 
 fied, he cared for little else. 
 
 No sleep visited the couch of Talbot. He had a 
 room to himself, and when he had undressed he hung 
 his clothes over the keyhole of the door, and drawing 
 close the shutters, sat himself down to study. He 
 
258 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 dared not open the package, he feared a dreadful reve 
 lation, he knew not what; he picked up a prayer- 
 book and turned over the pages. He started with 
 horror there, in the well-known hand of Ormond, 
 were these words in pencil, written on the margin of 
 the page " My days are numbered. I am alone. Into 
 Thy hands I commit my orphan children. Wilt Thou 
 protect them, oh } Qodf 
 
 Feelings of terror took possession of his mind, and 
 he shuddered as he thought of the wronged Ormond. 
 This was then the room in which he died. Mayhap 
 his spirit was then hovering over him, with vengeful 
 looks and fearful warnings. Had the Almighty thus 
 guided him to view the enormity of his villainy ? He 
 was almost tempted to resign all claim to the estate ; 
 and act the honest man; but then thoughts of the 
 broad lands, with the teeming fields, which might be 
 all his own for the extending of his hand and grasp 
 ing them, came across his mind, and he arose, shook 
 off his fears, and smiled at his own cowardice. He 
 grasped the packet ; he determined to know the worst. 
 He examined the address ; he tore off the cover, and 
 found a letter addressed to Zoe and Estelle. With 
 nervous agitation he opened it, and there drank in 
 with eagerness its contents. There were burning elo 
 quence and pathos in its tone, deep and feeling ; there 
 were sorrow and agony portrayed in those lines. 
 Here Ormond appealed to his children by the memory 
 of their parents, by every tie which was held sacred, 
 by a voice from the grave, to so act that no blot should 
 ever come on their name. There he laid bare their 
 mother's unhappy career, and he closed with the 
 crowning deed, which emancipated them from the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 259 
 
 ban which had hung over them. Talbot was thunder- 
 stricken, he trembled with terror, the paper fell from 
 his nerveless grasp upon the floor, he seized the other 
 package, There he found a confirmation of the fears 
 which the other had excited. Inclosed were all the 
 papers which had been obtained in Martinique, not 
 even excluding the marriage certificate and a copy of 
 the declaration of the dying woman who had so long 
 acted as Marie's aunt. He sat like one stupified ; he 
 felt that he was on the brink of a fearful precipice, 
 and closed his eyes ; he dared not gaze over, for black 
 ness and death were beneath him. He looked up; 
 his eyes strained in fright. Leaping from his seat, he 
 paced the room violently, he gasped for breath, he 
 dared not think ; turn where he would, the form of 
 Ormond stood before him ! There, with his great 
 mild eyes, he stood the very incarnation of sorrow. 
 The form paced the room by Talbot's side, and gazed 
 sadly and reproachfully at him ; then, assuming a 
 threatening aspect, the orbs seemed to grow larger, 
 and bloody with rage. Again the shape would change, 
 and with glaring eyes and gnashing teeth, with revenge 
 and hatred speaking in its hideous countenance, the 
 fiend stood before him. There was the eye, emitting 
 coruscations of flame, the sarcastic grin, aud the deep 
 malice of the infernal being, all before him, all palpa 
 ble, all expressed. The frightened wretch sunk upon 
 his knees, and in trembling agony exclaimed, " God 
 save me I" He opened his eyes ; he was alone ; he 
 looked shudderingly around ; his flesh still crept, and 
 his heart beat faint and slow. "With a desperate energy 
 given by despair, he hastily gathered together the 
 papers which lay scattered over the floor, and not 
 
260 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 even opening one which was addressed to Herndon, 
 rushed to the fire-place. There was no fire in the 
 hearth ; it had been carefully cleaned and whitewashed 
 since the funeral, but he took the candle, and applied 
 the light to the mass. He watched the flames as they 
 curled around the last words of the noble Ormond, 
 and smiled with a devilish satisfaction when he saw 
 the latest spark die out, and the whole sink to a heap 
 of black cinders. He deliberately gathered them up, 
 and dusting the remainder off with his handkerchief, 
 went to the window. Fool! he had burnt only comes 
 
 \J -L 
 
 of the originals. 
 
 " Here, I consign you to the winds of heaven," he 
 said. ' "I defy you to return in any shape to inform 
 on me. I am safe, safe, now !" 
 
 A deep groan answered him. He started wildly, 
 and hastily looked around. 
 
 " I certainly heard something," he exclaimed, anx 
 iously. " Or can it be my imagination ? Cursed fool I 
 was, to be frightened by a sound so trivial. Mayhap 
 this is what they call conscience" 
 
 He then sat down, and as he thus reclined, his 
 brain conjured up phantoms. Again the stately form 
 of Ormond stood before him. 
 
 " Can this be reality ?" asked he, as he closed his 
 eyes, and, opening them again, found the specter be 
 fore him still. This time the face wore an expression 
 only of rage and vengeance; the brows were con 
 tracted, and the lurid light which shot from the eyes 
 seemed to shed a lambent and unearthly glow, like a 
 halo, around the figure. The winding-sheet hung 
 loosely from its form, and the phantom slowly raised 
 the right hand in a threatening attitude. Talbot's 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 261 
 
 straining eyes were riveted upon the fearful form ; his 
 pulse seemed to cease to beat; a cold perspiration 
 broke out over his body ; his hair bristled ; he tried 
 to avert his eyes, but they were fascinated by the stu 
 pefaction of horror. 9 An owl sat near the window in 
 a tree, the messenger-bird of Death ! whose voice of 
 doom 
 
 " Tells of the shroud, and the cold damp tomb, 
 Where festering corpses lie." 
 
 Talbot sat still 
 
 " With listening ear, and bristling hair, 
 And blood in his veins that froze ; 
 Like a voice of doom, through that silent room, 
 An ominous sound arose, 
 A blended cry of wrath and woe, 
 "With anguish keen and fell, 
 Like the wail of a soul in the pit below, 
 Condemned to the nethermost hell" 
 
 As the sound arose on the midnight air, and the 
 flesh shrunk and quivered in terror, he sprang to the 
 door, and, hastily unlocking it. rushed from the room, 
 alarmed and nearly bereft of his reason. Stamps, 
 alarmed also by the sudden intrusion, as Talbot 
 bounded into the room, leaped out of bed, and began 
 to call aloud. This awoke Hiver, who had dropped 
 off asleep ; he ran to the window and tried to throw 
 it up, but the sash, being fastened down with a spring, 
 defied his utmost efforts. He then sought to find the 
 door, but stumbled over a chair, and fell headlong on 
 the floor. This added to the alarm of the others, who 
 feared a new irruption, and commenced crying out in 
 concert. Hiver, finding matters in this fix, sneaked 
 under the bed. 
 
262 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " Is this you, Billy ?" cried Talbot, as he seized him 
 by the leg. 
 
 " Yes ; is that you, Tolly ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What is the matter ?" 
 
 " Oh ! the devil is come, Billy !" 
 
 " The devil he has 1 where is he ?" cried Stamps, 
 who, now that he had time to become cool and thor 
 oughly awakened, regained his courage. 
 
 " Oh ! he is in the other room, Billy 1" 
 
 " There is a light there 1" 
 
 " Yes, yes : shut the door." 
 
 " Tolly, it 's my opinion that you are a cursed cow 
 ard. What ! run from the devil when you had a can 
 dle in the room ? I '11 go and see the old fellow ;" 
 and here he sprang off the bed, and walked into the 
 room. 
 
 " Well, Tolly," he exclaimed, as he returned with 
 the light, " he 's gone, and I don't believe a word you 
 say." 
 v " I '11 swear I saw and heard him." 
 
 "Pshaw! faldelal! all gammon!" 
 
 " I '11 tell you what," cried the lawyer, poking his 
 head out from the bed, where he had sneaked when 
 Stamps had gone for the light, " you both came mighty 
 near catching it. I heard the noise, and was about to 
 fire, when I distinguished your voices. As for myself, 
 I never became alarmed. I am the coolest man you 
 ever saw." And with this valiant lie in his mouth, he 
 pulled the cover over his head, and addressed himsell 
 to sleep. 
 
 " Indeed I" answered Stamps, laughing ; " then per- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 263 
 
 haps you will go and take Tolly's place in the other 
 room, and let him have your bed ?" 
 
 "Thank you!" muttered Hiver, from under the 
 bed-clothes ; " not any." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 * 0, coward conscience, how dost thou affright us 1" 
 
 next morning, after breakfast, our three friends 
 reluctantly left the dwelling, and proceeded to the 
 parish-town, which was the seat of justice. Talbot 
 formally petitioned for the administration of the es 
 tate of Colonel Ormond, when they learned that Mr. 
 Herndon had been on the same errand ; to which they 
 made an objection filed in writing. This was done by 
 the advice of Hiver, who was confident of his rejec 
 tion by the judge. There remained nothing now to do 
 but to take matters quietly until the expiration of the 
 ten days authorized by law. Hiver, in the mean time, 
 remained with Talbot. They occupied a room at the 
 principal hotel, where they formed acquaintances, 
 hunted, and fished in the surrounding country, and 
 sought to gain friends and popularity. 
 
 The ten days expired, and an early day was set for 
 the hearing of the rival claimants. They were all 
 there, at the office of the judge, and, as they sat, 
 anxiously awaiting the commencement of the case, 
 Mr. Herndon rode up. He was very pale and stern, 
 and spoke to all with a subdued gravity. The case 
 came on, and was argued at some length by the coun 
 sel. It was contended that there was no positive evi 
 dence to show that Talbot was Ormond's relative. To 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 265 
 
 this, Hiver replied that he, Ormond, had always ac 
 knowledged him as a relation, and that, as the nearest 
 collateral relative, in default of any claimant in the 
 direct line, his client was entitled to the administrator 
 ship. He then called on several persons, and Mr 
 Herndon himself, who, on oath, testified to the accu 
 racy of the statement. It went very hard with the 
 judge to make the decision, but he was compelled to 
 set aside the claims of Herndon, and Talbot was in 
 formed that he should administer the estate. 
 
 Great were the congratulations which Hiver and 
 Stamps showered on Talbot, who took it very calmly. 
 The next thing to be done, was to give the requisite 
 security. This was easily done ; for during the week 
 previous, Hiver had so represented the matter, as to 
 actually interest the sympathy of several persons in 
 the town, who, when the bond was given, walked in 
 without scruple, and signed it. 
 
 Thus much was completed, and nothing now re 
 mained to be done, but to have an inventory taken of 
 the estate. The appointment of Talbot annoyed Mr. 
 Herndon considerably. He went to the city, and con 
 suited distinguished counsel. They could give him no 
 hope, unless he could prove Talbot to be an impostor. 
 
 This he could not do, as he was well aware that 
 Ormond had always recognized, and introduced him as 
 a relative, and therefore he was entitled to the adminis 
 tration. Herndon was almost outdone, and he turned 
 his face homeward with a heavy heart, to await pa 
 tiently news from the only one living who could set 
 the matter at rest. This was Dr. Grant. 
 
 The season sped on, and Talbot removed to the 
 plantation permanently. Hiver returned to his busi- 
 
 12 
 
266 THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 
 
 ness in the city for the time. The newly installed 
 gentleman, with his man, gave dinner-parties and wine- 
 parties, or discharged one overseer and engaged an 
 other. Old Pierre was his right-hand man, but he 
 was made to know his place ; for Talbot felt tolerably 
 certain now, that when the tug of war came, he would 
 be pronounced the heir ; and he had no more use for 
 Pierre. He tried to gain popular^. The neighbors 
 came, and enjoyed his hospitality ; they went away 
 with a secret feeling of dislike. There was a something 
 a feeling of restraint apparent in all their actions ; 
 not that frank and open-hearted demeanor which 
 comes from a warm welcome, as in times of old. They 
 looked upon their host with suspicion and dislike, and 
 he felt it, but determined to outlive prejudice. 
 
 Stamps was in his glory : he drank and smoked 
 with the guests, slapped them on the back, and called 
 them " mighty clever fellows." He played whist, and 
 related, much to the horror of Talbot, many little 
 amusing passages from their lives, while clerks in the 
 North. When the guests were gone, Talbot would 
 take Stamps to task; and, after a good lecture, he 
 would promise to be more careful in future, and not to 
 repeat the offense. 
 
 " Your tongue will be your ruin, Billy," he said, 
 " let our former life alone ; let it lie buried ; for there 
 is nothing pleasant in the retrospect, and it only 
 makes my visitors feel a contempt for you." 
 
 " Well, Tolly, I don't mean any thing ; but I feel 
 so good, to think I can do just as I choose, and that 
 we have got plenty without clerking ; but I won't do 
 so any more, if you will only give me a hint when 
 you hear me going to do it." 
 
THE CKEOLE OKPHANS. 267 
 
 It was now that Talbot thought it time to act in 
 regard to Zoe and Estelle. He would have had him 
 self appointed curator ad bona to them, merely to 
 keep them in his power, if he had not been afraid 
 that by this act he would have made a tacit acknowl 
 edgment that the children had rights ; and, if there 
 were no tutor appointed, it would be presumptive evi 
 dence that they had no estate to administer. 
 
 "You are right," remarked Hiver; "let Herndon 
 be appointed, if he will ; but your being tutor would 
 prevent you from ever extending your claim over 
 them ; for this may have to be done. You have got 
 every point on your side now, but see that you don't 
 overreach yourself; for your claim and theirs must 
 conflict. They will then be represented by a curator 
 ad litem. No, sir! don't you touch it. They may 
 even be natural children, and obtain a good slice out 
 of your estate." 
 
 It had got whispered around, somehow, that Talbot 
 intended to contest the claim of the children through 
 illegitimacy ; and curses loud and deep were uttered 
 by the neighbors, when they thought of the orphan 
 girls ; but they were powerless, and could do nothing. 
 
 Sometimes Talbot was determined on going on to 
 Paris for the girls, marrying one of them, and then, 
 feeling secure, set the world at defiance ; but he 
 thought if he did, it would not agree with his contract 
 with Stamps, who would claim the other ; and then 
 he would have an equal right with him there. ISTo ! 
 that would never do! He could never share that 
 property with another. Besides, he had long deter 
 mined to get rid of Stamps ; he was an incubus on 
 him, and no assistance whatever ; but he intended to 
 
268 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 use him soon, and was preparing himself. He sent 
 funds to the Superior of the school, for Zoe and Es- 
 telle, and wrote them a kind and feeling letter, with 
 the information that he would ever provide for them. 
 To the Superior, he mentioned that he would ere long 
 dispatch a friend to Paris for his cousins, and that she 
 must prepare to lose them. 
 
 All this while Herndon was not idle he was 
 making inquiries in every direction and worked 
 night and day for the benefit of the orphans. He, 
 however, made no discoveries. He saw with pain 
 that the fine property was diminishing in value, from 
 mismanagement and from the incompetency of the 
 overseer, whom Talbot had hired ; but he knew that 
 he had no legal right to speak, and he could only sigh 
 and wish for happier days. 
 
 He and others thought they saw in the fact that 
 Talbot had not been appointed tutor for the girls, a 
 disposition to defraud them entirely of their just rights, 
 and he determined ere long, to himself apply for the 
 tutorship of the orphans. 
 
 Talbot now occupied himself in riding about the 
 plantation, and learning its duties. The negroes saw 
 at first that there was a change coming over things ; 
 they missed the cheerful smile of their former kind 
 master. They missed his gentle words they missed 
 many a holiday and little present. In their stead, 
 there was the harsh voice of a frowning stranger ; a 
 round of unmitigated toil ; and no cheering words of 
 kindness ever struck their ear. Where now were 
 their Sunday sports and recreations ? Gone ! and in 
 their place was a sullen, ragged, discontented group, 
 lounging without soul or spirit in the sun. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 269 
 
 An important era in the life of Talbot now occurred. 
 The account of the administration of the estate of 
 Ormond was filed and homologated, and he was then 
 discharged from the administratorship. Now was the 
 trial of Talbot. He claimed the succession as the 
 nearest heir-at-law ; the proofs he brought up induced 
 the same persons who had gone his security to still 
 continue on his paper, and he became to all intents 
 and purposes the presumptive heir. 
 
 Talbot was now, we may say, the lord of this 
 princely estate. He had means at command, but was 
 not satisfied. Nor was he happy. He was high up 
 on the ladder of wealth, and could look down upon 
 the world, as far as regarded gold, but the compli 
 ments of friends from the city, at his splendid re 
 unions, when the wine flowed, jests went forth, and 
 the sound of music awoke- the midnight air, and the 
 smiles of beauty dazzled, made no , cord vibrate in his 
 heart. He was dissatisfied and unhappy. There was 
 a vacuum in his breast which nothing could fill. He 
 often saw the pale face of Ormond in his musings ; 
 and the form of the gentle Marie, with her dark, sad 
 eyes. He thought of their unprotected children. He 
 felt that he was a villain, and that there must be a 
 curse hanging over him. 
 
 Since the discovery of the papers and knowing 
 that he was holding the property unjustly there was 
 a constant disquiet in his bosom. He imagined and 
 felt that there was always danger of discovery ; and, 
 although he would in calmer moments smile at his 
 own terrors, and fondly solace himself with the idea 
 that the secret was profoundly locked in his own 
 bosom, and that no one living would ever take an in- 
 
270 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 terest in it to dispute the possession, there were times 
 when he would tremble in every muscle, and the 
 sweat would stand in great beads on his brow. Not 
 that remorse ever touched his flinty heart; No! it 
 was a constant fear of detection, which rendered his 
 life miserable, and caused sleep to be a stranger to his 
 pillow. He became more thoughtful and moody. 
 He was often buried in long reveries. He was very 
 irritable; and never saw a party of gentlemen ap- 
 proachi-ng the house that he did not imagine they 
 came to tell him every thing was known, and that he 
 was lost. "While in these moods, he resorted to the 
 wine cup for solace. But as time passed on, and Tie 
 was unmolested, his terrors were partly banished, and 
 he began to fear less. As people began to treat him 
 more cordially, he seemed to forget the circumstance 
 that the one man who alone could wreck him ; was yet" 
 on earth. 
 
 He had for some time past intended to send to Paris 
 for the girls ; but for want of a proper person, he had 
 delayed it. He would not send Hiver ; he was afraid 
 to trust him. Stamps was too rough and uncouth ; 
 and he doubted if he sent Stamps if he would ever 
 find Paris ; but, believing that he, of all others, was 
 the most devoted to his interests, he thought that by 
 sufficient drilling he might be able to make him answer i 
 for an escort. He had noticed that Stamps was much 
 less talkative in company than formerly, and seemed 
 to try to adapt himself to his wishes more. So Talbot 
 concluded to send his friend. He had in his conver 
 sations with him often hinted at it, and Stamps had 
 expressed himself ready to go. He had ' gradually 
 given him all the information in regard to the estate, 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 271 
 
 and the situation of the orphans, whom he still pre 
 tended to term slaves ; but he did not inform him of 
 the discovery of the papers. No ! he kept that locked 
 in his own "bosom. That would be giving Stamps too 
 great a hold on him ; and he intended to dissolve the 
 connection between them when Stamps had returned 
 from Erance. 
 
 It was one evening when Talbot was riding thrpugh 
 the field, Stamps was coming along behind. 
 
 " Billy," he said, stopping his horse; u ride up. 
 You know," he continued, "that when you came up 
 here, you agreed to go by my instructions, and assist 
 me?' 
 
 11 Well, I am willing to do so whenever you call on 
 me." 
 
 " Then, Billy, you know that it is impossible for me 
 to leave home, and it will be necessary that you go to 
 Paris, and come home with the girls. I would give a 
 great deal to go myself, but I am so placed that I am 
 compelled to remain to protect my interests ; for you 
 know I have many and watchful enemies abroad." 
 
 " Just name your time, Tolly, and I will start," 
 cried Stamps, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. 
 
 " Very good, Billy, you 're a trump; we must get 
 you ready in a few days." 
 
 At the end of the week they were sitting in the 
 gallery waiting for a boat. He had duly lectured 
 and warned Stamps, and repeatedly given him rules 
 for his conduct. u Now, Billy, listen ! I believe with 
 the advice I have given you, that you can go and 
 acquit yourself very well. You are going upon a 
 mission of peculiar importance, and it will require all 
 your care and prudence. Here is a letter for the Lady 
 
272 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Superior of the convent, notice the address ; and this 
 one is for the girls. Here is one for Hiver, who will 
 see you off, and this you must present to my merchant 
 who will give you money for your journey. Now in 
 addition to what I have said, I will add : be prudent, 
 do not talk too much, and when you do talk, don't talk 
 about yourself." 
 
 " Now, Tolly, you need not fear for me ; I am not 
 such a fool as I used to be." 
 
 " I believe you, and all I want you to do is to keep 
 your senses about you; and Billy, as you .value my 
 friendship and my aid, treat the girls as a gentleman 
 should ; do not take the slightest liberty by thought 
 or word ; think of them as my relatives, and deliver 
 them to me safe and sound, and Billy, remember your 
 oath." 
 
 " Hold on, Tolly, enough 1 you have said enough ; 
 I will treat them as if they were my own sisters ; I 
 would not break that oath for all you have got." 
 
 "Well, well! now go; remember me, any how, 
 and my friendship, and return as soon as you can. In 
 that paper you will find some suggestions for your 
 guidance which will be of use." 
 
 In the evening a steamer came, and Stamps was ! 
 en route for Paris. 
 
 Talbot was now alone for the first time. "When 
 night came he was afraid to sleep alone in the cham 
 ber, and a servant was brought in. He thought per 
 haps, that he had been stupid in sending Stamps upon 
 so delicate a mission ; and as he lay and let his imag 
 inations excite him, he was almost resolved to recall 
 his embassador ; but when the morning came, he 
 thought better of it. It was a very great sacrifice that 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 273 
 
 he made, in allowing any other than himself to go 
 after the girls ; but there was no other he would trust^ 
 and he was afraid of he hardly knew what. He was 
 not willing to leave home for any length of time ; he 
 preferred, if there should any thing be discovered, to 
 learn it at once, and be prepared for it by flight or 
 otherwise, than for it to come upon him suddenly and 
 paralyze him by its shock. 
 
 To do the fellow justice, he really, when he had 
 started Stamps to France, had no unmanly designs 
 against tbe girls ; he merely wanted them out of his 
 way, and was willing to settle on them an annuity, or 
 alimony to be released from the fear which he ever 
 felt. He looked .upon them as an hinderance to his 
 projects, and he determined when they came home to 
 settle some small sum on them. He felt perfectly in 
 different to their persons, but then he had not seen 
 them for several years. 
 
 "When Stamps had been gone some two weeks, 
 Talbot received a notice from the judge, convening a 
 family meeting, for the purpose of appointing a curator 
 to the girls. He hesitated when he received the proems 
 verbal, and almost determined to oppose it ; he looked 
 upon it as an infringement of his own rights, an inter 
 ference in his affairs ; but when he remembered the 
 advice of Hiver, he then concluded to let Herndon be 
 appointed. He therefore signed the petition, asking 
 for the appointment of Herndon, to the latter's great 
 surprise. 
 
 Stamps had now been gone about three weeks, and 
 no change had occurred in the state of affairs. It was 
 evening ; Talbot had just rode in the yard from the 
 sugar-house. Pierre had been sent to town for a bar- 
 
 12* 
 
274 THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 
 
 rel of whisky for the negroes, and was very drunk ; 
 lie had broached the barrel as he came along, and 
 drank very freely of the liquor. He was cursing and 
 grumbling in an outrageous manner. 
 
 Talbot was provoked, and ordered him to be silent. 
 This incensed Pierre the more, and Talbot struck him 
 with his riding- whip, as he again commanded him to 
 cease. 
 
 "You ain't nothing but a upstart, no how; you 
 ain't no gentleman any way, and dere ain't a nigger 
 on dis plantation but tink so, and wish you was at de 
 debil, for you ain't no right here no how." 
 
 Foaming with rage, Talbot rushed at him and struck 
 him over the head and face with his whip again. 
 This had no more effect than if he had beaten one of 
 the live oak-trees in the yard, and Pierre redoubled 
 his abuse. Talbot was frantic, and literally danced 
 over the yard in his frenzy. The overseer was com 
 ing through the Quarter at the moment ; and, while 
 he was looking around in speechless rage, his eye fell 
 upon the overseer. 
 
 " Here, here, come here ! come over this way a mo 
 ment, Mr. Grambo4" he shouted, hoarsely, " and bring 
 your whip along." 
 
 The overseer hitched his horse to the fence and 
 came quickly into the yard. 
 
 "What's the to-do, Mr. Talbot?" he asked. 
 
 " Take that fellow ! strip him, and give him two 
 hundred ; the infernal old reprobate." 
 
 "Here, sir?" asked the overseer. 
 
 "Yes, sir, right here! put him down!" and here 'he 
 seized Pierre by the collar and pulled him forcibly 
 down, despite his struggles. He was soon stripped. 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 275 
 
 Crack ! went the lash, with a shriek and a curse from 
 Pierre; the whip swung through the air, and the 
 blood soon begun to die the grass. Pierre was silent ; 
 the overseer tired not, and every time the whip de 
 scended, it peeled the flesh from his back. 
 
 The overseer looked at Talbot, who shook his head, 
 "Keep on sir, till I order you to stop." Again the 
 whip came down, and again the flesh quivered and 
 shrunk ; but the negro with fixed eye and closed teeth 
 groaned not ; he was perfectly sobered, but still he 
 complained not. At length Talbot exclaimed, 
 
 " There, that will do, you can let him up now, sir;" 
 he added, as the bleeding negro arose : " that will teach 
 you a lesson, and the next time you are impertinent 
 I will put you down and beat you with a red hot hand 
 saw." 
 
 " Mr. Talbot," answered Pierre, as he gathered his 
 garments around him, " my old massa dat ain't hardly 
 cold yet, never hit me a lick in his life, nor his father 
 before him ; I made you what you is, and now I will 
 unmake you." 
 
 This was said gravely, and even with dignity ; but 
 there was a fiendish glare in his eyes as he spoke. 
 
 Talbot cursed him, and turning off, asked the over 
 seer in to take a drink of brandy. He treated the 
 threat of Pierre lightly, but had he known the mali 
 cious, treacherous, and revengeful nature of a Zambo 
 negro, he would have trembled in his shoes. 
 
 When the next sun shone in the east, Pierre was 
 sought for but could not be found ; he had run away. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "Her sorrow made her beautiful ; a pity 'tis that all could not become it so. M 
 
 IT was an evening of surpassing beauty. In a cell in 
 the Convent of Mercy, at a window which over 
 looked the Seine, and nearer still, a parterre, which was 
 filled with blooming exotics ; sat a lovely girl of about 
 eighteen. She was gazing intently toward the river ; 
 but her eyes were red with weeping. She heard not 
 the noise of the million, nor saw the moving panorama 
 of life spread out before her. No, those dark, sad 
 eyes were filled with tears. She was a lovely being ; 
 her face was a true oval, and her features faultless. 
 One almost believed, as he gazed into those expressive 
 and melancholy eyes, that the Virgin lived again. Her 
 hair, was dark and glossy, and arranged in smooth and 
 simple bands around her classic head, and suited well 
 her complexion, which was a pure olive. She was an 
 almost matchless being, full of grace and beauty, and 
 one to be cherished and loved. 
 
 There was another person in the room. She was 
 also beautiful, but her beauty was of a different style. 
 She was fairer than the other, but the same features 
 which marked her companion, distinguished her. In 
 deed, one could not but know that the ties of sister 
 hood existed between them. Is it necessary to call the 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 277 
 
 names of Zoe and Estelle. Does not the dark, rich 
 tint of the skin, and the large, mild eye, the sweet, 
 calm smile lingering around the mouth, and the happy 
 expression of countenance, denote the parentage. Yes. 
 they are indeed our young friends, whom we left 
 bright and sunny little fairies, now grown up into two 
 noble and beautiful beings. 
 
 It was Zoe who sat at the window ; it was she whose 
 eyes were fixed upon the moving mass below ; but 
 her soul drank in nothing present ; she was abstracted ; 
 her thoughts were far away, in the land of her nativity, 
 in her own dear Louisiana, where laid the bones of 
 her parents. 
 
 Estelle was seated at a low table a few steps off with 
 an open letter spread out before her ; the crystal drops 
 falling thick on the page. It was the letter of Mr. 
 Herndon announcing the death of their father. 
 
 In this position each remained some minutes, until 
 at length she arose, and walked toward the window. 
 She dropped down on a seat near her sister ; and throw 
 ing her arms around her, exclaimed as the tears stream 
 ed down her face. " Oh, sister, God has forsaken us. 
 Are we not wretched. Father, mother, both. It seems 
 but a month since the letter came with that black sor 
 rowful news. Our mother is gone forever ; her sweet 
 quiet smile will welcome us no more ; nor will her 
 pure bosom pillow our brows again. Now comes this 
 horrible news, the last and most tremendous misery. 
 Oh. is it not terrible. I shall go mad ;" and here her 
 emotions became so powerful that she was unable to 
 say more. 
 
 Zoe tried to comfort her ; but her own heart was 
 breaking. 
 
278 THE CKEOLE OBPHANS. 
 
 Estelle raised her head. 
 
 "Oh, sister, I know what you would say, but com 
 fort can not be given. We are alone, we are unpro 
 tected. Oh, who will be our friends. Oh, father, 
 mother," she said, falling on her knees, "if your pure 
 spirits are permitted to descend and watch over your 
 poor orphans, oh, stoop your golden wings from heav 
 en, come to us in spirit, and bear our prayers to our 
 Holy Mother. Oh, parents in bliss, by the memory 
 of those innocent and happy hours, by your love on 
 earth, forget us not, be with us, and cheer us in this 
 our dark hour of affliction." 
 
 " Come, dear Estelle," interrupted Zoe, who was fear 
 ful that such an excess of emotion would unsettle her 
 reason. " Cheer up, do not give way to these terrible 
 feelings do for my sake, try and compose yourself." 
 
 " Ah, sister," she answered, wildly, "for your sake; 
 and you are all that is left now to the heart-broken 
 Estelle. But what have you or I to live for now ? we 
 are friendless orphans. 
 
 " Sister, you are wrong ; we have a friend, and oh, 
 such a friend. He is great and powerful ; he can bid 
 the angry sea be still, and its waves sink into peace. 
 He, our great Father, the orphan's friend. He will 
 protect us. Estelle, sister," she continued, as she raised 
 her streaming eyes to Heaven, while a holy light 
 seemed to irradiate her countenance, "when we were 
 little children, and about leaving home, our mother 
 said : Zoe, you are the elder, love and cherish your 
 sister, she is young, teach her to love God, as I have 
 taught you, and never close your eyes without "invok 
 ing the blessing of God. Sister, I have taught I 
 have loved you. I love you, and our mother looks down 
 
THE CKjSOLE OBPHANS. 279 
 
 from Heaven, and smiles with joy. Sister let us ask 
 that friend to bless, and to succor us in our sorrow." 
 
 Here she took Estelle by the hand, and they both 
 knelt down. There, amid the din arid noise of the 
 great city, the Almighty heard the orphan's cry Like 
 the vibration of the wings of an angel, tremulous like 
 the rays which fall from the sacred lights of heaven, 
 did this pure and holy offering, ascend to God. Earn 
 estly and with faith, did she send forth her humble 
 supplication. And it was heard in Heaven. 
 
 They arose. As Zoe had supposed, her sister was 
 calm, it was the sacred tranquillity of pure faith, the 
 trust in a Great "Watcher over all, who notes every 
 thing ; whose ears are ever open to the call of the af 
 flicted ; and without whose knowledge not even the 
 breath which rustles the summer leaves arises. That 
 Being who knows the fallacies of the human heart, and 
 who is never deaf to the cry of the widow, and the 
 orphan. The injured and the calumniated, the bruised 
 and heart-stricken may come to Him, and find a sure 
 friend, one who never tires, nor turns away when the 
 soul is wrung with agony, but whose hour of retribu 
 tion comes ; although it may to us seem retarded. This 
 was the Friend of Zoe and Estelle. 
 
 Just as Estelle was about to speak again, a gentle 
 tap was heard at the door ; it opened, and a sister en 
 tered. She spoke to them kindly, and brought a mes 
 sage from the Superior, inviting them to come down 
 and accompany her into the convent gardens. They 
 kindly thanked her, and replied that they would join 
 her as soon as they had arranged their dresses. 
 
 The good Superior and ladies did every thing in 
 their power to moderate the grief of Zoe and 'Estelle. 
 
280 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 The rules of the convent were broken, as the reader 
 will perceive, even by their having a separate room. 
 Indeed they were uneasy on account of Estelle, who 
 was nearly frantic with grief, and any thing which 
 could divert her own and her sister's minds from their 
 sorrow, was eagerly tried. The girls were much be 
 loved in the convent ; both on account of their long 
 residence, and for their inherent good qualities. 
 
 It will be perceived that the letter from Mr. Herndon 
 had been received. This was a week previously, and 
 still the orphans wept. 
 
 Talbot's letter had also reached them it only added 
 to their grief. 
 
 " Sister," said Estelle, while she was combing out 
 Zoe's wealth of raven hair; "is this person who is 
 named Talbot, and calls himself our relative, the 
 same man who used to be "with us when we were 
 young, and who taught us to draw and paint?" 
 
 " Yes ; he is the same, I think." 
 
 " Well, what has he to do with us ? Is he our 
 relative?" 
 
 " He was introduced as such by our father, sister; 
 but mother used to have an aversion to him, I think. 
 At least, from all that I can remember now, she never 
 liked him." 
 
 They descended to the Superior. 
 
 Some days after this, the girls were sitting in their 
 room. Several weeks had passed off since the last 
 scene, and the first violent emotions of grief were sub- 
 due.d ; but, in it its place, a deep, pensive cast of silent 
 sorrow remained, which dimmed the brightness of their 
 eyes and paled their cheeks ; but made them more sweet 
 and interesting, if possible, than ever. They were 
 

 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 281 
 
 sitting together, and engaged in some light embroidery ; 
 their thoughts and their conversations were of their 
 dear home beyond the sea. A sister entered. ' ' Young 
 ladies," she said, " the Superior sends for you in the 
 library." 
 
 They arose, and followed her into the room where 
 the mother was seated. She received them kindly. 
 "My children," she said, when she had made them 
 seat themselves before her; "the Holy Mother has 
 heard your prayers, and sends you comfort." 
 
 " What mean you, mother?" asked Zoe, anxiously. 
 
 " My daughter, you are to leave the -convent, and 
 return to your home in America." 
 
 " Alas !. madam, we have no home, said Estelle, 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 "You are mistaken, my child," said the lady, 
 kindly. " You have kind friends and true ; and they 
 long to welcome you to their arms." 
 
 " We know them not," replied she. 
 
 " Be thankful, my children, that God has raised up 
 friends for you; for, when you leave the peaceful 
 shadow of these holy walls, your path will be beset 
 with thorns, and trials, and temptations." 
 
 " I would rather live in these walls than mingle in 
 a world which can have no charms for me. The 
 bright spots in my life would be but few. Here I 
 could at least find peace;" 
 
 "There are duties in life," said the Superior, " which 
 we all have to perform. Go out and fill your ap 
 pointed mission ; if misfortune ever shadows you with 
 its dark wing, here you will ever find a home." 
 
 "Oh, mother!" exclaimed the impulsive Estelle, 
 " you are kind and good, and how can we leave you?" 
 
282 THE CEEOLE O HP HANS. 
 
 " The separation will cause me pain, but we must 
 bow submissively to our duty. Come, we will go ; 
 there is a gentleman waiting your appearance in the 
 parlor." 
 
 " Oh, mother !" she exclaimed, much surprised. 
 
 "Yes, my children, that is the cause of my sending 
 for you. He is sent by a kinsman to protect you over 
 the sea to take you home." 
 
 " A kinsman, mother ?" 
 
 " Yes, a relative of your father's ?" 
 
 " Oh, then we will go !" exclaimed Estelle, rising ; 
 "if he is like my noble father he is good and honor 
 able he is pure. Come," she repeated. 
 
 "Nay, my child," exclaimed the Superior, half- 
 smiling at her earnest manner; "there is time, me- 
 thinks. You are now eager to leave our protection." 
 
 "Not so, mother," replied she, going to her side, 
 and taking her hand, which she pressed to her lips. 
 "Forgive my haste, but you know that your poor 
 Estelle is almost crazy. You are a kind mother to us, 
 and go where I will, there is a place in my poor heart 
 devoted to respect and affection for you." 
 
 "Heartily do I forgive you, my poor child; you 
 follow only the dictates of nature. God be with you ! 
 Come, we will go." And so saying, she extended her 
 hand to each, and walked toward the parlor. Quickly 
 did their bosoms heave and their pulses beat, as they 
 stood before the door. It opened. Sitting by a table, 
 with his eyes fixed on a painting hung in the wall, 
 was Mr. Stamps. He was vastly improved by travel, 
 and dressed in the latest style. A thick mustache 
 garnished his lip the growth of weeks, and carefully 
 nursed by him for the present occasion. Poor Stamps, 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 283 
 
 he had been greatly annoyed. Although he had been 
 in Paris a week, he had scarcely heard any word save 
 the native language. It dinned in his ears, and con 
 fused his brain ; and, in trying to imitate, he had 
 almost forgotten his own tongue. He had found the 
 convent on the second day, and had since been pre 
 paring for the visit. He said to himself, "How will I 
 ever know how to tell them what I want, when I get 
 there ? I can't speak a word of French. Why was it 
 that every body was not made to speak English?" 
 
 A lucky thought struck him ; so, to a book-store 
 he went, and there after an hour's pantomime in broken 
 English, an American stepped up and relieved his em 
 barrassment. He wanted a book of English and French 
 conversations. This obtained, he set off to his hotel 
 to study it. It was hard work ; for Stamps had never 
 been used to a student's life. He found a few sen 
 tences which he thought he could make use of. 
 
 The time now came for him to use them ; his eyes 
 were on them ; for they were written out and pasted 
 in his hat. The Superior entered. He looked at her. 
 The letters had been sent to her by a sister. His eyes 
 were bent into his hat, for his French had oozed out. 
 Suddenly he bounced up, as if on springs. 
 
 " Comment vou-s portez-vous, madamel" .he said, gasp 
 ingly. 
 
 The lady bowed, coldly, and returned his salutation. 
 
 This encouraged hint, and he proceeded. 
 
 "Madame Superieur, vous avez mon lettre ?" 
 
 " What shall I say next?" said the poor fellow, who 
 now began to perspire. 
 
 11 Ah, madame, je ne comprend votre langage de Fran- 
 
284 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 cais. M. Talbot desire Mesdemoiselles Ormond retourner 
 d Louisiane. II very much mis^re." 
 
 The lady smiled at the unique compound, and turn 
 ing to her companion, said, 
 
 " Vest un zero, un vrai zero." 
 
 Then to Stamps she exclaimed, " Monsieur, are you 
 an American?" 
 
 " Yes, madam," replied he, promptly. 
 
 " You can speak English, then?" 
 
 "Like a hem! Oh! yes, madam." 
 
 " Then you are the person who is sent to take 
 charge of these young ladies ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam. Their relative sent me ; he wants 
 to see his cousins mighty bad." 
 
 Stamps was taken aback and confused. He" had 
 expected, when he came to Paris, to see two ordinary 
 Quadroon girls, who were to be placed far below his 
 level, and one at least to be subject to his caprices. 
 In their stead, he beheld before him two beings more 
 ravishingly beautiful than he had ever dreamed, and 
 before whom he felt humiliated. Whe"ri he had in 
 some measure recovered from his embarrassment, and 
 the Lady Superior was conversing in a low tone with 
 Zoe, he asked, 
 
 "Madame,.! presume the letters I brought are a 
 sufficient guaranty of my authority, and will warrant 
 you in placing the the young ladies under my 
 care?" 
 
 After some thought, the lady replied, " There will- 
 be no difficulty, sir ; the young ladies will accompany 
 you." 
 
 " That 's it, madam. I knew you would say it was 
 all right." 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 285 
 
 " Will you be good enough to inform me, sir," 
 asked she, "who is appointed guardian to the young 
 ladies?" 
 
 " Oh, madam!" he answered, hesitating; u oh! Mr. 
 Herndon and Mr. Talbot." 
 
 " And this Mr. Talbot is a relative?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, they know that ; a cousin of their 
 father's." 
 
 Estelle would have asked many questions, but the 
 Superior interrupted her. "You will have time 
 enough to ask: all the questions you can think of dur 
 ing the voyage. We must now separate. When will 
 you be ready to set out, sir ?" 
 
 " That I leave to you, madam." 
 
 " I am not your guide, sir." 
 
 " Then, madam, in a week from to-day I will call 
 again." 
 
 " Yery good, sir." 
 
 He bowed an adieu. 
 
 It was several days before he could hear, of a vessel 
 leaving Havre for New Orleans, but at length he called 
 at the convent, to say that on the next day he should 
 leave. The Superior promised that the young ladies 
 would be ready. 
 
 The morning was cool, and day had scarcely broken, 
 as Zoe and Estelle issued from the portal in tears. 
 They felt as if they were leaving a home. Since they 
 entered it, they had never been from under the keep 
 ing of the good sisters. They hung in tears on the 
 neck of the good Superior, stepped into the carriage 
 in waiting, and were separated forever. To a dili 
 gence station they were driven, and when vehicles 
 had been .changed, were whirled away on the road to 
 
286 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 Havre. Zoe turned her head, and looked behind. 
 The city was fast disappearing ; the steeple of Notre 
 Dame and the cupola of the Pantheon were alone visi 
 ble over the tops of the houses. 
 
 Havre was reached. Again they are rocked upon 
 the billows of the Atlantic, and, dove-like, are return 
 ing to their nest. But, oh ! the ruthless hand of the 
 hunter has cut asunder the thread of life of the parent- 
 bird. They will reach the nest, and chirp in sorrow, 
 for it is desolate. 
 
CHAPTER XXT. 
 
 *' Man spurns the worm, but pauses ere he wake 
 The'slumbering venom of the folded snake. 
 The first may turn, but not avenge the blow; 
 The last expires, but leaves no living foe ; 
 Fast to the doom'd offender's form it clings, 
 And he may crush, not conquer still it stings!" 
 
 THE COBSAIR. 
 
 TTTE have seen the inconsiderate brutality of Talbot, 
 in punishing old Pierre so severely. He tried to 
 banish from his breast a certain uneasy feeling. He 
 knew that Pierre had in his keeping his honor, life, 
 all. He had committed himself to the negro, and he 
 well knew that there was no confidence to be placed 
 in him; but he thought that self-interest would 
 keep him silent. He knew moreover that the negro's 
 statement could not convict him ; but he felt that it 
 might lead to an unpleasant investigation, which would 
 eventually result in a discovery. He spent an uneasy 
 night, but came to the conclusion to seek Pierre in 
 the morning, and make it all up. 
 
 The overseer had been struck with the threat made 
 by Pierre, and it sunk deep into his mind. He felt 
 that there was something behind; but although he 
 thought much, yet, as a prudent man, he kept his 
 mouth closed. 
 
 In the morning Talbot walked into the quarter, 
 with the intention of seeking Pierre. No one had 
 
288 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 seen him. Inquiry was set on foot, and it was found 
 that Pierre had not even slept in his house during the 
 night ; he had run away. 
 
 Talbot was horror-struck ; he caused the overseer 
 to take a party of negroes, to hunt the swamp thor 
 oughly ; he himself also went a different route ; he 
 was now really alarmed, and rode hither and thither 
 in a state of the greatest agitation. Dinner-time came, 
 he rode up ; the overseer was standing in the yard, 
 tired and covered with mud. 
 
 " Ha,ve you found the old scoundrel?" he asked, in 
 a tone of anxiety, which he tried to hide. 
 
 " No, sir," replied Grambo ; " I 've been all over 
 the swamp, and I can't see hide or hair of him ! 
 Maybe he 's gone and drowned himself." 
 
 "A very good resolution, if he has." 
 
 When Pierre had made the threat to Talbot, he 
 walked off slowly and painfully. His soul was filled 
 with a deadly rage : he had been beaten cruelly and 
 inhumanly by a man for whom he felt a deep con 
 tempt by a man whom he had the sagacity to know 
 he had elevated to his present position by concealing 
 papers of value. He had hoped to have been benefited 
 by the change of owners ; but he found harder labor, 
 worse fare, and worse treatment, He had often re 
 gretted that the part he had taken in it had raised 
 Talbot to the situation he occupied ; and the present 
 occasion was the mere igniting of the fuse to a mine, 
 the explosive materials of which were already pre 
 pared. A long series of injuries and impositions had 
 to be avenged. Some negroes would have sought a 
 personal injury, for all are capable of it. Some would 
 have fired the sugar-house ; and others concocted 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. . 289 
 
 other injury. But Pierre, as we have seen, was no 
 common negro : he was possessed of deep and subtle 
 cunning. 
 
 The reader is aware that he was what is termed a 
 "Zambo." The Zambos are noted for a deep and 
 ferocious subtilty ; very deceitful ; inflicting injuries 
 long after the cause has been forgotten, and when least 
 expected. They are the descendants of the Mulatto 
 and Zamlo negro, and are known by their peculiarly 
 black skins. Pierre was a real Zambo. He sought 
 his cabin, lay down, and remained until late in the 
 evening. He lay plotting his revenge. 
 
 It was long since dark. Suddenly he started up, 
 and limped sorely out. All was still. Sleep reigned 
 over all. He stood before his . door, and looked with 
 a gloomy and scowling brow toward the dwelling. A 
 solitary light shone from a window. It was Talbot's 
 room. Deep and devilish thoughts were in the Zam- 
 bo's bosom. As he turned to go, a small dog, which 
 generally followed, attempted to accompany him now. 
 He tried to force it back, and still it persisted. With 
 out hesitating a moment, he reached his hand inside 
 the door, near which stood his ax. He raised it, and 
 inflicted a terrible wound on the poor animal, which 
 crawled under the house, and died. 
 
 Without a moment's regret at the cruel deed, he 
 strode forward as fast as the state of his lacerated 
 body would allow. He jumped the fence, so as to 
 hide his footsteps, and took his way through the cane. 
 He went straight to Mr. Herndon's plantation. 
 
 Mr. Herndon had retired to bed, and was awakened 
 by a tapping at his window. He arose hastily, and 
 
 went to the casement. 
 
 13 
 
290 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " Who is that ?" lie asked, looking down. 
 
 " Me, sir Pierre." 
 
 " Pierre! what are you doing here, sir? Is any 
 thing wrong ?" 
 
 " It 's all wrong, Mr. Herndon. Let me come in, 
 sir, and I '11 tell you something you would like to 
 know." 
 
 Herndon thought a moment, for he knew how 
 treacherous the negro was ; but at last said, "Go to 
 the side-door, sir." 
 
 Pierre disappeared, and Herndon took up his walk 
 ing-cane as he went to the door. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Herndon," Pierre said, " put me whar 
 the other niggers won't hear me, and I will talk." 
 
 " Come in here, then," said Herndon, struck by the 
 negro's grave manner, as he led the way to his cham 
 ber, and shut the door. 
 
 " Now, what is it, sir ?" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Herndon, sir, ever since my master 
 died, I have tried to please that man ; but now, sir, 
 I won't stand it no longer." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ? Do you come here with 
 your complaints at this time of night, and expect me 
 to interfere between your new master and you ?" 
 
 " He ain't none of my master. Mr. Herndon, my 
 back is cut deep, and the flesh is a-hangin' in rags 
 from it. That man, that calls me his nigger, had it 
 done. Now, sir, I was a black rascal to do what I has 
 done, and maybe, if I hadent a done it, he would n't 
 a bin thar." 
 
 " Will you tell me what you want, you black old 
 rascal ? You are drunk, and have been whipped for 
 some villainy, I suppose." 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 291 
 
 sir ; I was put down this evening, and give 
 three hundred licks because I got drunk." 
 
 " Just as I supposed." 
 
 " No, sir ; that ain't all. I was drunk, and I was 
 beat worse than a dog ; and now I come to tell you 
 that I stole the paper." 
 
 " What paper ?" interrupted Herndon, the truth 
 now suddenly bursting on him ; and he turned pale 
 with emotion. 
 
 " My master give me a paper when he was so sick, 
 and says he, ' Pierre, when I am gone, take this paper 
 from the cabinet, an' give it to Mr. Herndon.' Well, 
 sir, Talbot had give me money often, and I spent it 
 in whisky ; and he promised me more, and he made 
 me steal all the papers I could find, and keep them for 
 him. I gin him this ar one, and he is bin a lordin' 
 it over me ever sence." 
 
 " Why did you not tell me this before, sir?" 
 
 " 'Case I was afeard, and I thought I would n't have 
 no more work to do when he come thar ; but I has 
 had harder work, and more starvin' than I ever got in 
 my life ; an' I only wish I had my old master back 
 agin." 
 
 For several minutes Herndon sat without speaking. 
 A thousand conflicting thoughts passed through his 
 mind. "Have I got the clew to this mystery," he 
 thought, "or is Pierre deceiving me?" He looked 
 the black long and steadily in the face without speak 
 ing, and then cross-examined him again and again. 
 At last he spoke. 
 
 " You have run away, Pierre?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I ain't a gwine back no more there." 
 
 " Yes, but you must return." 
 
292 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " That man will kill me, sir." 
 
 " He will not, Pierre," he said, looking at him fix 
 edly. "If you are deceiving me, I will have you 
 whipped ; but if it is true, and I can succeed in prov 
 ing it, I will give you your freedom ! Do you hear?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," he answered. v " I tell you, sir, 'cause I 
 hates the upstart, as all the rest of 'em does ; and you 
 can jest kill me if I liee." 
 
 " "Well, Pierre, you must go back, and act as if you 
 had just been out in the cane. Go to Talbot, beg off, 
 and promise not to do so again. Lay the fault on the 
 liquor you understand me? and leave the rest to 
 me. Will you do it ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I can go back, and just do that way." 
 
 "Pierre, keep your mouth shut. Do you hear? 
 Act as if you had forgotten it all." 
 
 " Mr. Herndon, I knows what you mean well, and 
 you need n't be 'feard of me. You must let me stay 
 'bout here ; I'll go up in the stable loft, and lay there 
 tell I git easy. I got some vittils here in my bundle. 
 I'll go back, sir." 
 
 " That 's it, Pierre ; but don't let any of the negroes 
 see you here." 
 
 "No, sir; I won't." 
 
 The reflections to which this conversation gave rise 
 in the breast of Herndon were various ; but he was 
 convinced of Pierre's sincerity, for he had narrowly 
 watched him while speaking, and saw a dogged reso 
 lution of revenge alone predominant. He felt that he 
 had a clew, slight as it was, to the supposed neglect of 
 Ormond. He imagined that he had taken a thread 
 which would lead to the ejection of Talbot. The 
 course to be pursued he left to fate ; but he determined 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 293 
 
 to go to Martinique, to learn, if possible, if OrmontL 
 had married Marie, and if the children were legiti 
 mated. He scarcely had a hope of this ; but the idea 
 was vivid and sudden, and he formed a resolution to 
 penetrate to the bottom. 
 
 Pierre remained in the straw in Mr. Herndon's stable, 
 to " make de search arter him more interesting' as he 
 said, and on the evening of. the second day, about 
 sundown, descended from his roost. The news quickly 
 spread at Talbot's, the next morning, that " Pierre 
 done come in." Great was the delight of Talbot ; for 
 he was much alarmed, and his constant anxiety of 
 mind had thrown him into a fever. He felt that all 
 the beautiful schemes he had built up were being 
 undermined, and that all was a ruin ; all was lost. 
 He felt like flying, and leaving the country, after 
 securing a portion of the property. He even armed 
 himself, to be prepared in case of emergency. 
 
 He was completely deceived by Pierre, who ex 
 pressed great sorrow for his late conduct, and prom 
 ised to get drunk no more. This at once satisfied 
 Talbot, and he began to get easier and more content ; 
 but he formed a resolution to put it out of the Zambo's 
 power ever to injure him. 
 
 He now began daily to look for the return of Stamps 
 with his charge. His face would flush, and a tremor, 
 a strange feeling ,of excitement, would run through his 
 frame, as he thought of having the girls in his power. 
 He arranged a chamber for their accommodation, and 
 had concealed springs placed in the sashes to prevent 
 their being raised. He, indeed, entered into the mi 
 nutiae of arrangements with a feverish interest. 
 
 Mr. Herndon left for the city in pursuance of his 
 
294 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 purpose, and a few days after his arrival there- he was 
 seeking a vessel bound for Cuba. The reader will 
 remember that when Ormond determined to go to the 
 West Indies, and Martinique was selected, Mr. Hern- 
 don was present, and aware of the place of their desti 
 nation. He now took passage on a vessel for Cuba, 
 in the expectation of getting one thence for Marti 
 nique. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " And the cypress lifted a blazing spire, 
 And the stems of the cocoas were shafts of fire ; 
 Many a white pagoda's gieam 
 Slept lovely round on lake and stream." 
 
 HEMANS. 
 
 rTIHE water in the Bay of Naples was still and mir- 
 * ror-like. A blue haze filled the atmosphere, and 
 objects seen through it were mellowed and softened 
 into a dreamy picture. The sky had no cloud, but 
 was of that deep blue tint so peculiar to Italy. You 
 could see through it further up into heaven than in 
 our harsher clime. The lofty island of Capri, seen in 
 the distance, appeared a fairy isle, floating in a liquid 
 rarer than air. The city rose gradually, crowned by 
 the hoary castle of St. Elmo. The hills in the rear of 
 the city are covered with vineyards, villas and monas- 
 teries. There is the Capo di Monti, and the monastery 
 of San Martina, which crowns the hills, while behind 
 is a range of wooded mountains. 
 
 To the right may be seen "Vesuvius, sending up a 
 thin spiral wreath of smoke to heaven, while beyond 
 all are dimly observed the summits of the Apennines. 
 
 It was indeed a calm and bright day, such as this 
 favored clime alone can boast. On the mole, leaning 
 over and resting on an old gun, which was sunk into 
 the quay for a post, was a handsome man, of appa- 
 
296 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 rently some forty years. He was gazing pensively 
 over the bay, but whether his eyes were bent on the 
 heights of Vesuvius, or on the white walls of Castel- 
 mare, the old town of Sorrento, Tasso's birthplace, or 
 taking in the beautiful villas on the western shore, 
 you could not tell. By and by he awoke as if from a 
 dream, and his glance fell on the vessels in the harbor. 
 
 " At last," he murmured. " At last, I must return 
 home to my dear home. I must mingle there with 
 the world, as of yore. I must renew old associations, 
 and make new friends. I must laugh and be gay, 
 while my heart is buried with Caroline, under these 
 summer skies. There are some few noble hearts left 
 yet on earth ; there still is Ormond, generous and 
 high-toned, self-sacrificing and pure. His heart will 
 beat a throb faster when he sees his soul-weary friend. 
 And you too, gentle Maria well-named pure and 
 spotless, simple and true you will welcome the 
 wanderer home ; and, for the sake of the lost Caroline, 
 give to him some portion of the esteem you felt for 
 her." 
 
 The speaker, as the reader has discerned, was our 
 friend, Dr. Grant. He had wandered hither and thither 
 since the death of his wife ; from Greece to Turkey ; 
 from the sands of Palestine to the icy shores of the 
 "White Sea ; from the wilds of Caucasus to the capitals 
 of Continental Europe ; and now, exhausted and worn- 
 out by excitement, which he had sought for, in the 
 first instance, to dull the pangs of grief, now he had 
 settled down into a calmer, a sadder, and a wiser man. 
 He had come to Naples, and intended to embark for 
 America, to spend the remainder of his life among his 
 friends. 
 
THE CEEOLE OKPHANS. 297 
 
 " Yes," lie continued, " I will return at once to the 
 land of my birth. All I love now are there, and they 
 will sympathize with me, and cheer a broken heart." 
 
 Poor fellow, he little knew the tremendous change 
 which death had made during his absence, in that 
 dearly-loved circle, to which he was hastening. He 
 little dreamed that death had come and made desolate 
 that happy family home ; that he himself was their 
 destined avenger an avenger in whom there was no 
 pity, no relenting ; and that he was hastening on, as 
 remorseless as fate to prevent a wrong to rescue 
 the orphan's heritage. 
 
 Dr. Grant remained in the posture we described, his 
 thoughts wandering far over the sea, and his eyes 
 fixed upon the waters of the bay, just now slightly 
 sparkling in the morning breeze. His attention was 
 attracted by the appearance of a young man, who was 
 on the point of leaping from a -boat which had just 
 run her bow up on the sandy beach. There was some 
 thing in the figure, and in the attitude of the person, 
 which struck him as familiar ; yet he in vain conjec 
 tured whether they had before met. He was on the 
 point of turning off toward the city, when the stran 
 ger's voice reached his ears. He was giving the boat 
 man some orders respecting a bundle which contained 
 his portfolio. The doctor paused, and kept his eye 
 fixed on him as he advanced. His hair and eyes were 
 piercingly dark ; and his mouth and chin, even as he 
 came, displayed energy in repose. He was an emi 
 nently handsome man ; and, as he walked, the sym 
 metry of his form could be observed. He spoke to 
 his attendant ; his voice was rich, deep, and flexible ; 
 it sounded like an old familiar tone ; like the house- 
 
 13* 
 
298 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 hold-music winch passes through the seaman's brain 
 when, rocked by the billows, he fondly dreams of 
 home. That tone he had heard in happier days ; it 
 was then not so rich so mellow and so manly ; ye*t 
 it was the same. Grant shut his eyes; he was, in 
 imagination, again by the side of Caroline, away by 
 the cane-fields of Louisiana, listening to the song 
 of the bird the hum of the bee the harping of 
 heaven's wind through the branches of the trees. 
 The stranger passed him ; his gaze, for the first time, 
 fell on the doctor ; he stopped and hesitated ; then, as 
 if reassured, he bowed slightly, and was about to pass 
 on. He knew him not ; years had passed ; the head 
 of the doctor bore white blossoms of the grave, and 
 his dress was foreign ; but that slight look of interest 
 and inquiry told him all. 
 
 " Hold !" exclaimed he. 
 
 The stranger obeyed, and turned. Grant was at his 
 side in a moment. The two stood mutely gazing into 
 ea.ch other's hearts, as it were ; then, as if by a simul 
 taneous impulse of recognition, they were clasped in 
 each other's arms. 
 
 " Dr. Grant I". 
 
 "Louis Lamotte!" were the exclamations which 
 passed ; and for a minute the only ones. 
 
 We will not linger on the meeting ; the thousand 
 questions of interest asked and replied to by each in a 
 short time. Any one who has been for years away 
 from his home and fireside, a wanderer among stran 
 gers, with the burden of a broken-heart, will appreciate 
 such feelings, at such a time ; especially if suddenly 
 meeting a dear and valued friend. But oh ! how keen 
 was the anguish of Grant, when Louis informed him 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 299 
 
 of the death of Marie I How his heart swelled with 
 grief, and how scalding was the tears which dropped 
 on his young friend's hand ! 
 
 " Lamotte I" he exclaimed, brushing them away ; 
 " I thought I had done with this. Tears ! Why, I 
 am as dry as a mummy. Well, God pity me ! Poor, 
 poor, Ormond ! Your heart has bled like your friend's. 
 Now will I hasten to you the sooner for your grief. 
 But Louis, my boy, what are you doing here ?" he 
 added, banishing with an effort those feelings. 
 
 " Why, doctor, the truth is, that a year ago I left 
 the Polytechnique School, determining to see a little 
 of the world. I always longed to visit this portion of 
 it ; so, I left books and philosophy, and set off on foot 
 with my knapsack and portfolio ; and, after being 
 every where, I am here." 
 
 " I suppose you saw Zoe and Estelle before you left 
 Paris?" 
 
 Louis blushed deeply at this question, and laughed 
 in a confused manner. 
 
 " I see how it is," exclaimed the doctor, " and I am 
 glad of it; and I know that nothing would please 
 Ormond more. Do you remember how I used to tease 
 you about Zoe ?" 
 
 " I remember all," answered Louis, sighing. 
 
 " Oh, well, Louis, if the woman fulfills the promise 
 of the girl, either of the sisters are worthy of the most 
 devoted love, even of so gallant a fellow as yourself." 
 
 { ' I thank you, doctor ; but maybe Ormond may not 
 think as well of it as you." 
 
 ''Never fear, Louis; you are a favorite. But a 
 truce to this. Let us go to yonder open inn, and, I '11 
 be sworn a glass of good Cypress will set us to rights. 
 
300 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 I am quite choice in my drink now ; but I do not 
 know how it will be when I return to the whisky of 
 the Ohio. Come, that bunch of grapes over the door 
 is inviting I feel a great change already in me at 
 the sight of your face, albeit it is more manly than 
 it was." 
 
 " I am with you," said Louis. 
 
 As soon as they were seated, the doctor drew his 
 chair to the open window, and, putting his feet out of 
 the latter, a VAm^ricaine, resumed the conversation. 
 
 " "Well, Louis, my heart yearns to revisit our Fa 
 therland, to look -upon her tranquil shores, and see 
 the broad bosom of the dear old muddy Mississippi 
 once more. My future life can never be an unmixed 
 stream of happiness ; yet I submit to the decrees of a 
 fate I can not avoid. 1 have at last concluded to re 
 turn. The poet's idea is one that finds an echo in my 
 heart: 
 
 " My dearest home I my childhood's homo! 
 
 Beyond far fairer lands 
 Thou art, despite thine aspect wild, 
 
 The all my soul demands. 
 The visions of the loved and lost 
 
 Are blended -with each scene, 
 And memory lives to linger o'er 
 
 Each spot where bliss has been." 
 
 The doctor struggled hard with his feelings ; but, in 
 spite of his exertions, the " memory of other days" 
 caused the tear to glisten in his eye. "Louis," he 
 said, as he poured out the sparkling wine, "drink I 
 I '11 try and bear it, and leave such thoughts for my 
 solitary moments. What do you think of going to 
 America ?" 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 301 
 
 " Doctor," lie answered, after a moment's reflection, 
 " I would like very much to accompany you, but the 
 term of my probation has hardly expired." 
 
 " That is nonsense. You have arrived at an age to 
 judge for yourself. Will you go?" 
 
 " Doctor, you have touched a chord in my heart. I 
 was intending to visit the north of Europe, but I will 
 go with you." 
 
 "Well said, my brave fellow 1" answered Grant, 
 exultingly ; " we will go." 
 
 " Agreed," said Louis. 
 
 " Eight, my boy ! right ! Your company will be 
 a solace to me. Instead of taking ship at Genoa, we 
 will at once to Paris ; and there, Louis, we will see the 
 girls, whom I love as much as if they were my own. 
 A day or two there, and then to Havre." 
 
 " I will go, doctor, although I have not the advice 
 of my guardian ; still, he will not blame me." 
 
 " I will set you easy on that score. I thank you for 
 your acquiescence," said Grant, taking him by the 
 hand, and shaking it heartily. "Here is to your 
 health, and may your future life never be clouded by 
 a single storm." 
 
 Louis, thanking him, reciprocated his good wishes, 
 and they departed. 
 
 The day was spent in rambling about Naples and 
 its environs. Over the entombed cities at the base of 
 Vesuvius they roamed, and speculated over their re 
 mains. Upon the island of Capri, which Tiberias 
 chose as an abode, and to the Cape of Minerva, where 
 the Parthenopian syren dwelt ; amid the ruins of form 
 er grandeur, and rich associations of classic lore, the 
 two reunited friends spent many hours; and it was 
 
302 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 only when the sun was declining that they wended 
 their way homeward. 
 
 At length night came. Ah ! who can conceive, 
 but those who have experienced it, the delicious and 
 voluptuous languor which steals over one here, in this 
 heavenly climate; the balmy breeze from over the 
 bay, freighted with perfumes; the laughter of the 
 boatmen ; the merry voices of passengers, or, maybe, 
 of a gay party of the Neapolitans, as they are slowly 
 rowed over the glassy bosom of the water? There 
 was the sound of music from each balcony ; the pal 
 aces of the nobles were illuminated with splendor ; 
 and, ever and anon, the far-off song of the fisherman 
 over the water, was heard piously ascending to the 
 Virgin. 
 
 Then, the mole which projected far out into the bay, 
 was covered with idlers of all nations. * There was the 
 big-speaking Englishman, the querulous Frenchman, 
 the silver-tongued Italian, and the melodious Spaniard. 
 
 Around a kind of troubadour were gathered a knot 
 of sailors, mostly natives, who were listening with 
 silent interest to the songs of the musician an interest 
 broken only by some expression of pleasure from the 
 attentive group. 
 
 Our friends sat at the edge of the water, which, 
 reflecting the blue sky and bright stars, made them 
 seem swimming in a bath of liquid light. It appeared 
 as if one could see far down into another world, so 
 pure, so bright and transparent was the crystal sheet 
 before them. Louis listened to the doleful strain of 
 the musician, telling the story of some lovely maid 
 carried off by corsairs. The doctor's thoughts were 
 far away, wandering back to a little mound of earth, 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 303 
 
 clothed with flowers. Sad memories were busy at his 
 heart. It was on such a night as this that he bade 
 adieu to that angel, who, from among the pure and 
 beautiful lights of Paradise, was now looking dawn on 
 the beloved partner of her brief earthly happiness. 
 
 The following morning a golden mist was in the 
 atmosphere, as our travelers embarked in a small fe 
 lucca for Genoa. 
 
 A week elapsed, and it was mid-day, as the two pass 
 engers, from Lyons, covered with dust, alighted from 
 a diligence at one of the principal hotels in Paris. 
 
 " This begins to seem like civilization," said the 
 doctor, as they looked from their window upon the 
 populous street, and as he arranged his toilet. 
 
 Louis, who was lounging on a bed, added, " "We 
 want only a New Orleans mint-julep to render the de 
 ception perfect." 
 
 In the evening they left the hotel to seek the con 
 vent. Dr. Grant, with the feeling of a foafl. father, 
 longed to press to his bosom the children of his dear 
 est friend ; and Louis, who loved, and had always 
 loved, felt a strange emotion in his breast, at the 
 thought of again seeing the object of his pure affection. 
 He had sometimes gone too see the girls during the 
 first year of their sojourn in Paris ; but of late he had 
 not gone so frequently. He did pay them a visit be 
 fore he left Paris on his rambles, and so from them 
 first learned the death of their mother. 
 
 The heavy Gothic architecture of the convent soon 
 came in view, and they proceeded to the principal en 
 trance. The portress appeared ; the doctor asked for 
 the Superior, and was ushered into the parlor. Scarce 
 three minutes elapsed before she entered the room. 
 
304 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 After introducing themselves, the object of their 
 visit was stated. 
 
 "Ah, gentlemen," she replied; "you can not be 
 aware of the melancholy occurrence which ." 
 
 "Good Heavens I madam!" vehemently cried Dr. 
 Grant, wholly forgeting the presence in which he stood, 
 and the sanctity of the place. " Your looks tell of 
 something dreadful, speak out! has any thing hap 
 pened ?" Then recovering himself and actually blush 
 ing, he continued. " Forgive me, madam ! but I am 
 a dear friend of their father's, and your hesitation 
 caused me to feel uneasy." 
 
 " Dear sir," she replied, " my forgiveness you have. 
 I have heard the dear children, in speaking of their 
 home, mention your name with kindness. But the 
 young ladies have gone to America, in charge of a 
 gentleman sent for them by a relative, a Mr. Talbot." 
 
 "Ha! treason!" exclaimed the doctor; "the infer 
 nal villain. And does Colonel Ormond, their father, 
 sanction this, madam?" 
 
 " Alas ! sir, he lives no longer." 
 
 " Dead, dead I" shouted he, leaping from his seat. 
 " It is impossible ! When ! where ! did this occur ? 
 This is a most fearful blow ! Is this true, madam ? 
 or have they imposed on your credulity ? Ormond 
 dead ! no, it can not be." 
 
 "I know not, sir." replied the Superior, who ap 
 peared to be slightly offended, " if I have been im 
 posed upon, but I have the letters written to me by 
 their kinsman, and that was, I suppose, a sufficient 
 authority for me." 
 
 " Then pray, madam, let me see them; this blow is 
 so sudden, so unlocked for." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHAN'S. 305 
 
 She rang a small bell ; a domestic stood before her ; 
 she gave her an order, and the woman disappeared, 
 but returned directly, bearing a package of papers, 
 which she proceeded to examine. The doctor all this 
 while was walking hastily back and forth the room, 
 his mind a tumult, and his brain confused. When 
 the sister entered with the papers he walked to the 
 Superior and hastily seized the proffered letter of Tal- 
 bot. He hurriedly read it, then crushing it in his 
 hand, exclaimed 
 
 " By the powers of a higher world ! Ormond, my 
 friend ! but I will avenge you, if you have been in 
 jured I will save your children from the monster. 
 If I fail in this, I will shave my head and become a 
 monk the remainder of my life. 
 
 " Madam, I offer you my excuses for my discourt 
 eous manner ; but when the heart is stirred with agony 
 there is no time for conventionalities. I had a friend 
 who has been cut off in the prime of life, and I very 
 much suspect that this person, Talbot, is trying to 
 play a foul game, which, for want of proof, may be 
 successful." 
 
 " He is the near relative of Colonel Ormond, and I 
 presume has a right to a portion of the property, and 
 the guardianship of the children." 
 
 "No more than you have, madam; but how long 
 have they been gone ?" 
 
 " About three weeks, sir." 
 
 " Then there is yet time. He has the game to him 
 self. Madam, farewell ! Come Louis, now for venge 
 ance! Oh, Ormond, my friend, and you too gone !" 
 
 Louis was much shocked, and he remained as if 
 stunned while this scene was being enacted. But he 
 
306 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 at once went to the hotel with Dr. Grant, and took the 
 Diligence for Havre. 
 
 "We next find our excellent friends leaning over the 
 bulwarks of a vessel bound for Charleston, in America, 
 and watching the receding shores of France. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 'He loured on her with dangerous eye-glance, 
 Showing his nature in his countenance." 
 
 SPENSEK'S Fa'try Queene. 
 
 TI7"E again call upon the scene-shifter and turn to 
 ' * others of our characters. Zoe and Estelle sailed 
 from Havre under the protection of Stamps. He 
 scarcely knew how to conduct himself toward them. 
 He was fearful if he treated them with too much re- 
 spect ; knowing the licentious character of Talbot, that 
 he would be laughed at. He had been candidly told 
 the condition of the girls before he left, and he knew 
 that Talbot could and would claim them as slaves. 
 Yet still when he looked on them in all their youth 
 and grace, and beauty, his rising feelings would be 
 checked by their dignified modesty. At the same 
 time he had determined the fate of one of them at 
 least, upon their arrival in New Orleans. He, how 
 ever, concluded to act toward them under present cir 
 cumstances with respect ; but he could not avoid let 
 ting them observe his ardent gaze fixed on them as 
 they came on deck. They were disgusted and alarmed, 
 and longed for the termination of the voyage, well 
 believing that in Mr. Herndon they would find a pro 
 tector. To heighten this feeling on their part, he on 
 day informed them that he was aware of the relation 
 in which Colonel Ormond stood to their mother. 
 
308 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "What agony these two poor unprotected orphans 
 experienced, can only be imagined by the virtuous 
 and good ; and they felt ftn unaccountable relief when 
 the line of coast which debouches out from the main 
 land into the Gulf of Mexico, came in sight ; but they 
 sighed when they remembered that here they parted 
 years before with those who were now no more ; 
 whose glad smile and endearing embrace would have 
 atoned for the absence of so many long years. No ! 
 those dear parents were now no more, and they felt in 
 approaching their native shores as strangers and exiles. 
 They had noticed the singular attentions which Stamps 
 showed them, and which gradually increased in bold 
 ness, until they almost arose to violence. Shudderingly 
 they received them, but feared to offend the only one 
 whom they could call protector. Many were the tears 
 the unhappy girls shed as they sought their state 
 rooms to lament over the sad fate which placed them 
 in his power ; for they felt that they were in his power, 
 and began to dread the moment of their separation 
 from the rest of the passengers. 
 
 It was not that Stamps had said any thing very 
 pointed, or spoken plainly of his feelings ; but he had 
 intimated to them that they were wholly dependent 
 upon the bounty of Talbot ; and observed that a strict 
 compliance with his wishes would be beneficial to them. 
 
 We say that Stamps had never spoken out plainly ; 
 but it was with horror that they were forced to certain 
 conclusions. -Ah, although reared within the sacred 
 walls of a convent, they had tact enough to appreciate 
 it all. Like the shrinking mimosa, whose delicate 
 organization heralds the approach of danger, their 
 souls recoiled and contracted at his approach. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 309 
 
 Females have an instinctive feeling, which prompts 
 them to beware when an enemy draws near ; and 
 words, looks, actions, are all rapidly understood, and 
 virtue easily takes the alarm before the attack is 
 made. 
 
 So it was with the orphans ; they knew that a secret 
 meaning lurked in Stamp's breast, although perhaps 
 they were not such graduates in the knowledge of good 
 and evil as those who are raised in the school of city 
 dissipation. Still they comprehended most of the 
 enormous villainy before the voyage was completed. 
 But the wicked plotting against their peace of mind 
 was not understood or appreciated by them. Oh ! no ; 
 had the full truth burst upon their affrighted souls, 
 they would have shrunk back aghast with horror, and 
 the blue waves of the gulf would have closed over 
 them before they would have left the ship's side with 
 their enemy. 
 
 As for Stamps, he had at first been deterred from 
 acting in a disrespectful manner, but as they advanced, 
 and familiarity wore off some of the diffidence he nat 
 urally possessed, his feelings began to be wildly excited 
 He determined to restrain those emotions, until a 
 proper moment, and to fulfill his promise to Talbot ; 
 but he had been rocked upon the billows of passion 
 from a child, and never knew the salutary influence of 
 self-control. 
 
 He sat down and played chess with them or watched 
 their sylph-like figures as they promenaded the deck ; 
 or sat entranced and gazed at them, as they reclined 
 at mid-day on the cabin sofas. 
 
 Then with set teeth, and quickened pulse, he would 
 swear that Zoe should be his. In fact he was madly, 
 
310 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 deeply enamored with her beauty, and felt that he 
 would dare the wrath of Heaven, to possess her. 
 
 He was, as we have shown, a depraved man, and 
 scarcely knew reason, law, or honor. In other respects 
 he was not so lost to all the ennobling qualities which 
 ornament mankind. He was a bold man, and would 
 scruple at no means to accomplish his object. At the 
 same time he was generous, and would even put him 
 self out of the way to do a favor to a friend. He 
 had sworn to keep within the bounds of propriety 
 with the girls, and, therefore exercised a partial con 
 trol over his emotions. He promised Talbot not to 
 communicate the secret regarding the property, and 
 their actual situation, until their arrival in New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Thus were the parties, when the ship was taken in tow 
 at the Balize. Then in the hurry and confusion of pack 
 ing up cases, and getting in and out their luggage, those 
 feelings were diverted from their tempestuous course for 
 a brief period. The vessel reached the wharf ; and the 
 voyage was over. They stood on the soil of their 
 nativity, without a friend or a guide. 
 
 It was at a splendid hotel, crowded with guests, and 
 filled with all the appurtenances of comfort and luxury 
 that the coach stopped, and the victims were soon ush 
 ered into a handsome private parlor adjoining their 
 chamber. 
 
 Stamps had performed his part of the contract and 
 he looked for his reward. 
 
 After supper he appeared in their chamber from his 
 own, which was immediately adjoining. They were 
 standing at a window looking out upon the lighted 
 streets, and hurriedly consulting with each other as to 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 311 
 
 what Talbot would do in regard to their father's prop 
 erty, which they believed belonged to them. 
 
 " "Was it not our father's?" said Estelle, "and is it 
 not in justice ours now ? what right has this man to 
 deprive us of it? He surely will not do it." 
 
 "Oh, sister," replied Zoe, "we have been away a 
 long time, and maybe, we have lost all claim to it ; Mr. 
 Stamps says we are dependent on Mr. Talbot even for 
 our very bread." 
 
 " Then I had rather work for it," was the reply. " I 
 can sew, and you, sister, can teach drawing and music." 
 
 "Yes, yes, we can ; or I might obtain a place as a 
 governess, and 
 
 " Not so fast, not so fast, ladies," exclaimed a voice 
 quite close to them. They both started, and drew 
 closer to each other. It was Stamps, who had stolen 
 in unperceived. 
 
 "Now, young ladies," he said, as he negligently 
 threw himself upon a sofa, and flung his legs over the 
 back of a chair; "it is better to 4o take things 
 moderately at first ; and if you will promise me not to in 
 terrupt but to listen to me, I will say something to you, 
 which may put you on better terms with me." 
 
 They silently looked at one another, and made no 
 reply, but seated themselves. 
 
 "Now," continued he, "first, you know who your 
 mother was ?" 
 
 " We do, sir," replied Estelle ; " and if it be of that 
 dear parent you are to speak, we desire to hear no 
 more. You have already spoken once before of her 
 in a manner that no child would bear." 
 
 " Hoity toity !" laughed he ; " that is so far so good. 
 Now, hear me ; for you must hear me, whether you 
 
312 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 will or no. I have to say that to you which you had 
 better listen to. Well, your mother was a Quadroon 
 woman, unmarried mark that, unmarried but living 
 with Colonel Ormond. By him she had children. 
 She was a slave" 
 
 " That is false, sir I" exclaimed both the girls at 
 once, rising, while a tempest of rage flashed in their 
 eyes. " That is a base falsehood, sir !" 
 
 " Well, all this is mighty fine ; but the fact was 
 proved in court long ago, and not only that she died 
 a slave, but that you two educated ladies are slaves. 
 Talbot is the heir, and you will be disposed of as he 
 wishes." 
 
 He paused for a reply ; but astonishment, anger and 
 grief had stricken them dumb ; they sat as if stupified. 
 He was encouraged, and proceeded. 
 
 " Now, I will form a plan against Talbot, and assist 
 you. I have long loved you, Zoe yield to me. Be 
 mine without the forms of the Church, and he never 
 shall have power to injure you." 
 
 "Accursed fiend !" exclaimed Zoe, rising suddenly, 
 in unutterable indignation. " Begone ! and believe - 
 me, I would sooner die than be your lawful, wife, 
 much less the thing you would make me. Leave us, 
 sir !" And here she became overpowered by contend 
 ing emotions, and sunk again into the chair in an 
 agony of tears. 
 
 " Is there no law in this land to protect the or 
 phan ?" exclaimed Estelle. " If there is, I will appeal 
 to it." 
 
 "You had better not, miss. In this case there is no 
 help. Your best mode is to rely on my protection, to 
 make a friend of me." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 313 
 
 " A friend ! yes, a fiend /" said Zoe, raising her 
 "head. " You are a friend ! The tiger would defend 
 the unprotected lamb ; the hawk will guard the dove." 
 
 " You may think you are right," he said ; " but it 
 is not my wish to injure you, and to prove it, I now, 
 Zoe, offer you my hand in honorable marriage." 
 
 He had taken this step to gain his purpose, because 
 he saw it would not answer to bring the matter to a 
 denouement too soon, and by force. He thought to 
 lull their suspicion, and then make an easy prey. 
 
 Zoe replied " Mr. Stamps, your insulting proposal 
 is too fresh in my mind for me to listen to you on any 
 subject. "We never could be any nearer, and I would 
 never marry you. If you have the soul of a man, or 
 the slightest spark of generosity, leave us, and hasten 
 to Mr. Talbot, and say we await his arrival, and we 
 will try to believe this a horrible dream." 
 ll Nay, nay ; I do not leave here until you have 
 given me some encouragement some hope for me to 
 work upon." 
 
 " I can not bid you hope," said Zoe, who thought it 
 best to delay giving him a decided and indignant re 
 fusal, well knowing that she was in his power, and 
 that he might be induced to use coercion. " Go and 
 leave us ; and oh ! take pity on us. We are unpro 
 tected." 
 
 Stamps arose. "I will go," he said, "and at once 
 write to Talbot, who will be down on the first boat ; 
 but remember, you will find no sympathy in his 
 bosom. Decide on my protection." 
 
 " We confide in the protection of one greater than 
 you," said Zoe. 
 
 " Who is he?" 
 
 14 
 
314 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "God!" 
 
 " I don't know him," was the answer of Stamps, as 
 he left the room. 
 
 Stamps retired to his room, and there sat down. 
 The following note was dispatched that night by mail 
 to Talbot. . 
 
 " - Hotel, NEW ORLEANS, 
 "May 15, 18. 
 
 " DEAR TOLLY : 
 
 "I have arrived, and the two birds are safely 
 caged. Hasten to me, and say that I have succeeded 
 well. I await my reward, as your promise is re 
 corded, and I have set- my heart on its fulfillment. 
 Hasten ! I expect you. I have taken rooms here. 
 Inquire for ' Mr. Brown and the two Misses Brown? as 
 these are the names I have assumed. I was not green 
 enough to give our real names. Come on ! "We will 
 have fun, for we are as retired here, in this populous 
 hotel, as we would be in a desert. Yours ever, 
 
 " STAMPS. 
 " P. S. Zoe is 
 
 "When this letter was sent off, he returned to his 
 room, and there remained, guarding the treasures 
 which the next chamber contained. 
 
 In the solitude of his chamber, he gave the rein to 
 his imagination. He listened attentively to every 
 sound from his neighbors, and played the jealous 
 sentinel to perfection. 
 
 During the long, long night, he lay, and while the 
 innocent children were offering up their pure petitions 
 to their Heavenly Guardian, he was wrapped in sinful 
 dreams. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 315 
 
 The next day lie dined with many of the passengers 
 of the ship, and wine flowed freely. 
 
 It was evening again. The girls sat in their cham 
 ber, clothed in mourning ; their faces were pale, and 
 grief had left its impress; for their brows were troub 
 led, and their eyes were red with weeping. 
 
 Stamps had been drinking freely, for his cheeks 
 were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with the. excite 
 ment of wine. Unbidden, he entered their apartment. 
 
 " Zoe," he said, while his eyes glowed with a de 
 moniacal light as he surveyed her beauteous form, "I 
 cannot endure this suspense. You must be mine. I 
 adore you. Will you be mine ?" He here approached 
 her, and his breath burned her cheek. She drew back 
 in affright, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Mr. Stamps, sir, for heaven's sake do not impose 
 on our unprotected state ; be a man." 
 
 " Zoe, listen," he said ; "be mine, I will protect you 
 against the world. Talbot will sell you as a slave; 
 and he will force you compel you to submit." 
 
 "He never, never will he shall not I will die 
 first." 
 
 " Then you will die ; for you are in his power a 
 slave and he has the power. Come, consent to be 
 mine." Here he caught her by the arm forcibly, and 
 essayed to draw her near. 
 
 " Spare me, spare me I" she cried, falling on her 
 knees, and imploring him with piteous accents. 
 
 This seemed to inflame the fiend still more; his 
 eyes sparkled with agitation. He approached nearer ; 
 but she glided from him, and ran to the other side of 
 the room. Her hair had become disheveled in the 
 struggle, and she trembled violently with terror. He 
 
316 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 pursued, and again caught her in his arms. Zoe was 
 nearly senseless from alarm, could only utter a feeble 
 cry, and then sank on the floor. He seized her in his 
 arms, and lifting her up, bore her swiftly to her cham 
 ber. She was aroused, and again pleaded as if for her 
 life. 
 
 " Oh, sir pray ! Oh ! do not, for the sake of the 
 Holy Virgin, do me this grievous wrong. Oh ! have 
 pity on an orphan child ! Oh ! my father, my mother 1 
 Look down and protect your child. God hear me !" 
 Stamps bore her to the couch, and stood by her side 
 in his unholy frenzy. 
 
 During all this time, Estelle was crouching in a 
 corner, with her fingers in her ears, more dead than 
 alive. She knew that assistance was not at hand. 
 She knew that the door was locked ; and that her 
 feeble cry for aid would only irritate the wretch, and 
 avail her nothing. 
 
 Zoe lay with her heart fluttering like a wounded 
 dove her eyes starting with horror. Stamps placed 
 himself by her side. 
 
 She started up " Oh, sir I I am under your pro 
 tection ; do not dishonor yourself. You are welcome 
 to all our fortune." 
 
 " That is already gone," he said. 
 
 " Then spare me I will be your slave even bear 
 with me for a time ; I will try and conquer my feel 
 ings ; but oh, spare me now I" 
 
 " Never, never!" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Spare me, for the sake of my friends 1 Oh, for 
 the sake of all you hold dear ! Have you a sister ? 
 By her honor ! By your MOTHER ! She may be in 
 her grave I charge you by her memory by the days 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 317 
 
 of your youth and innocence, and by her gray hairs 1 
 Oh, spare me, spare me !" 
 
 Never did a more decided effect follow an invo 
 cation. The appeal to him, "by the memory of his 
 mother," was like oil poured upon angry billows. It 
 said, "Peace, be still 1" Stamps descended from a 
 state of excitement into a calm. He drew back, and 
 sank down, with his hands over his eyes. 
 
 " Zoe," he said, " you have conquered. You have 
 appealed to me in the name of my mother. That 
 name with me is sacred. Her gray hairs are your 
 protection. E"o ! I will not harm you. Be at peace. 
 Here is the key of your apartment I leave you." He 
 turned away. Zoe sprang forward and caught him 
 by the hand. She pressed it to her lips, passionately, 
 and exclaimed ; " Bless you 1 bless you !" Then, 
 sinking on the floor, she burst into a torrent of tears. 
 He stood still a moment a tear dimmed his eye he 
 sighed heavily, and left the room. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 TTTE now return to Talbot. He had gradually 
 accustomed himself to the great change in his 
 fortunes, and bore it philosophically. He superin 
 tended the economy of the plantation with as natural 
 an air as if he had been raised in the South, and felt 
 his own importance in no slight degree. The fright 
 which Pierre had given him was over, and Pierre was 
 more humble and more obedient than ever. Time 
 passed on, and the feeling of uneasiness which would 
 often creep over him had almost entirely vanished. 
 He felt secure in his seat. He had long since dis 
 pensed with the services of Hiver, who, mistaken in 
 his calculations regarding the plucking he intended to 
 have off the young goose, retired in disgust and mor 
 tification to his dingy law books. But they some 
 times met ; and Hiver managed, by a show of knowl 
 edge of his affairs, to keep a slight hold on him. 
 
 He knew that Mr. Herndon was absent from home ; 
 but, of course, imagined he was in the city. He knew 
 not the dreadful storm that was gathering over him ; 
 that the clouds were accumulating, and the lightning 
 of vengeance gathering. He heard not the distant 
 muttering of the thunder, nor the rising wind. No I 
 secure and tranquil, he dreamed of naught but bright 
 skies and calm seas. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 319 
 
 He was dreaming of the arrival of the orphan chil 
 dren of Colonel Ormond, and his prurient imagination 
 was excited by the pictures which were constantly 
 painted on his mind. 
 
 The reader well knows the wicked ideas which had 
 been generated and fostered in his brain, and with 
 what pertinacity he clung to the frightful images. He 
 now only waited the arrival of Stamps to secure in 
 his power the innocent girls. 
 
 A few weeks rolled by. He had decided in his own 
 mind the course to pursue ; for he had lost, if he ever 
 had possessed, all compunction of feeling for the sad 
 fate of those he should have loved and guarded, if 
 not for their own sake, at least from gratitude for the 
 kindness shown to him by their father, when he came 
 to the country a penniless adventurer. But such feel 
 ings were to him unknown, for his whole soul was en 
 veloped in self. 
 
 At first he had rather hesitated in what manner to 
 receive the girls. He had thought that, to keep up 
 appearances, and save himself, it were best to put 
 them in obscurity, and on a small pension ; but when 
 the .words of Hiver rang in his ears, " The children 
 shall follow the condition of the mother" and he felt 
 that he was unmolested, and had the legal right on 
 his side to act, he determined, if they pleased him, to 
 compel them to his wishes ; and when the determina 
 tion was fixed, the thing appeared less monstrous than 
 at first. Thus it is : when the first thought of crime 
 comes into the mind, it is struck with horror, and 
 shrinks, appalled, from the contact ; but as we accus 
 tom ourselves to think on it, the blackness assumes a 
 lighter tint, and we can revolve it in our minds with- 
 
320 ^ THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 out fear. At length it ceases to revolt us at all. What 
 lessons this teaches us ! How guarded we should be ! 
 how careful to banish the very first thought of guilt 
 to shrink from its loathsome touch, and sternly refuse 
 to give the thought a place in our bosoms. 
 
 He chanced to be in the county town. At the post- 
 office a letter was handed to him, and by the peculiar 
 fold and writing, he saw at a glance that it was from 
 Stamps. He coolly put it in his pockety but, when 
 he was secure from observation, to tear it open was 
 the work of a moment. 
 
 " Ah ! now," he exclaimed, as his eyes sparkled, 
 " now comes the tug of war again. Billy must be 
 paid ; it must be with money. Who would think he 
 could have the impudence to require such a thing ? 
 He expects me to fulfill my promise ; but I must see 
 them before I decide to reject his suit. Ha ! ha ! what 
 a kind cousin I am ! But, Billy it will never do to 
 make an enemy of him. He is too reckless, too bold, 
 and would sacrifice himself and me. So I must see 
 them." With this determination, he walked up to the 
 village hotel, and, leaving orders to have his horse 
 sent to the plantation, he waited for a boat. 
 
 " I am now going on a mission new to me," he said, 
 as he stepped off the plank of a steamer in New Or 
 leans. " I am now engaging in the intrigues of Cupid. 
 Ah ! and how many men have been wrecked by the 
 soft blandishments of the little divinity ; but I am 
 bred for a sterner court, and will beware 1" 
 
 With a palpitating heart he approached the hotel 
 where the objects of his unnatural persecution were 
 housed. He looked cautiously around him. Stamps 
 was standing on the portico of the hotel, which over- 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 321 
 
 looked the street. Suddenly his eye lit upon Talbot, 
 and, uttering a cry of joy, he called his name, and 
 dove down the steps, intending to pounce upon 
 him ; but the person he slapped on the shoulder, ex 
 claiming in a voice of a high tone, " Tolly ! Tolly ! I 
 am so glad to see you I" was a stranger, for Talbot had 
 apprehended the reception, and discovered Stamps ere 
 he had seen him ; so, when he saw him descending 
 upon him, he adroitly stepped into a hair-dressing 
 saloon. 
 
 The looks of Stamps were woeful and blank in the 
 extreme. He gazed in the gentleman's face a mo 
 ment in amazement, and exclaimed, " Bewitched 1" 
 and then, with his head on his breast, slowly went up 
 the steps again. But Talbot soon joined him, and told 
 him that he had played the trick on him to avoid a 
 public display. 
 
 " Well, you are a prudent fellow, Tolly !" he said; 
 " you are cut out for a Talleyrand ; you are a keen 
 one," he continued, again jumping up and shaking 
 hands with him. . " Well, Tolly, how do you think I 
 have done, eh ?" 
 
 " Well, I prefer talking over our affairs in some 
 other place than here. They will hardly bear too 
 much light. Come, let us take a drink, and we can 
 sit in the bar-room, out of observation." 
 
 " Agreed ; though there 's my room, but that 's too 
 near." 
 
 " Too near what ?" 
 
 " Why, my room is too near. It is next door to 
 it." 
 
 " It appears that you have learned some care, then," 
 laughed Talbot. 
 
 14* 
 
322 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " "Well, I calculate I am learning to take care of 
 them," lie added, smiling facetiously, and grinning 
 with a knowing leer. 
 
 " I presume they are well, and resigned." 
 
 et Oh, yes, they are hearty ; but about as resigned as 
 a perch in a bundle of dry moss." 
 
 " That is bad ; but they might as well be recon 
 ciled, for they are my slaves." 
 
 " Yes," said Stamps, in a delighted manner ; " and 
 all I want, Tolly, is for you to fulfill your promise to 
 me ; then I am your friend till old Bones' comes." 
 
 " You may depend on me, Billy," he replied, biting 
 his lip ; " but what if I make you a proposition. 
 What will you take to let me off? how many silver 
 dollars?" 
 
 Stamps looked at him a moment, and a smile of 
 scorn almost was perceptible as he replied, " Not the 
 wealth that you own would make me give up ; but 
 there is one thing I would do." 
 
 " What is it ?" asked Talbot, eagerly. 
 
 "Agree to free the girls; swear to never, in any 
 manner, molest them ; make a provision for them, and 
 I swear never to say another word on the subject." 
 
 Talbot looked at him in surprise, to see if he was 
 in earnest, and then exclaimed, " Hem ! why, Billy I 
 hem ! ah I don't know about that, you see." 
 
 " 'You seel' yes, I see," returned Stamps, angrily. 
 " I see that you are unwilling to do justice to these 
 girls, and you wish to deceive me !" 
 
 " Not at all, Billy ; you mistake me." 
 
 " Well, then, if I am mistaken, I will make a prop 
 osition to you, and if you hold to it, all will be well, 
 and we are friends." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 823 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " Why, the fact is, you brought these girls over 
 here to subdue them to your wishes ; and as they are 
 situated, ruin may be their fate. If it could be other 
 wise, it were, better; but now I make this bargain 
 with you : Give me Zoe ; you take Estelle ; they are 
 equally handsome, but I have my preference. 9 It may 
 be we shall both be foiled ; for it is said that women 
 have a way of their own ; but, if it is a bargain, say 
 so, and we will assist each other." 
 
 " Then," said Talbot, " I am with you in heart and 
 soul. You for Zoe, I for Estelle. Hurra for the Holy 
 Alliance!" 
 
 " Then here is my hand, and we will help each 
 other. Now for another drink, and we will consider 
 the affair closed." 
 
 Talbot now found that he had a spirit to deal with 
 not so subservient as he had imagined, and saw he 
 would be forced to yield, so he thought it best to do 
 so with a good grace ; but his heart was bitter toward 
 Stamps for it. He knew, however, that he could 
 depend on the veracity of his friend, he would not 
 deceive him ; and he accordingly determined to sacri 
 fice his feelings to his interests. 
 
 "Come, Billy, let 's walk out, and, as we go, we can 
 talk." 
 
 The two now strolled forth, and, as they went side 
 by side, their dreadful project was arranged. 
 
 "Now, Billy," said Talbot, "we must move cau 
 tiously in this matter, and we can succeed. Sly and 
 sure is my motto." 
 
 " No, sirree I" said Stamps, decidedly. " Don't you 
 see, if you are going to treat them as slaves, the way 
 
324 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 to do it is to break down their spirits at once, and then 
 they won't care what becomes of themselves ?" 
 
 "Yes; suppose they resist?" replied Talbot, who 
 saw, however, that there was philosophy in his argu 
 ment. 
 
 " But they must yield." 
 
 " All this is very well, but I must first see them." 
 
 " That you shall soon do. Oh I Tolly, but they are 
 lovely ; remember, I own Zoe." 
 
 " Yery well. When shall we see them ?" 
 
 " We had better wait until it is later." 
 
 " They shall obey me ; they are my property, and 
 they shall be bent to my wishes." 
 
 " That 's the way, Tolly. Use boldness, and we will 
 succeed." 
 
 It was night in the Crescent City. There were the 
 busy crowd in the street, the hurried chase of the 
 giddy after pleasure in the .ball-room, the merry round 
 of revelers in the saloon, and the shout of bacchanals 
 from the bar-rooms. There was dissipation in the 
 lamp-lit streets, vice in the jeweled crowd, and treach 
 ery on the hearth-stone. There was sneaking murder 
 in the darkened courts ; virtue and happiness in the 
 domestic circle. 
 
 Talbot had given himself up to the hands of the 
 barber, and came forth from his room highly per 
 fumed ; but all the barber's art, and all the patchwork put 
 on him, could not hide that black heart, full of wicked 
 designs, as he presented himself, smirking, before 
 Stamps. He arose, and after a whispered and hurried 
 conversation, silently preceded by Talbot, they wended 
 their way to the room occupied by Zoe and Estelle. 
 Here Stamps took the lead. 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 325 
 
 When the door was opened, they discovered the 
 sisters seated at a table, conversing in a low tone. 
 
 Stamps assumed a free easy tone and manner as he 
 advanced. He presented Talbot io them as their 
 relative. A sudden agitation seemed to take posses 
 sion of them, as they confusedly arose and returned 
 the affected salutations. 
 
 Talbot, who had counted on the swarthy com 
 plexion of the girls to give a colol- to his designs, was 
 sensibly struck and astonished at their clear and bril 
 liant color of Estelle in particular, and he felicitated 
 himself on his election of her instead of Zoe. 
 
 He was as much embarrassed as they, and hardly 
 knew what to say, as they regarded him with anxious 
 countenances. 
 
 "I am glad to welcome you. back to your native 
 soil once more," he exclaimed, holding out his hand. 
 
 11 We have arrived in obedience to your summons, 
 Mr. Talbot," said Zoe ; " and we place ourselves under 
 your protection." 
 
 " I shall be pleased to have it in my power to make 
 you comfortable ; but you must be aware that there is 
 a change in our conditions since we parted." 
 
 " We have nothing of our own," said she; " since 
 we are informed by Mr. Stamps that you are the heir of 
 our father; and you then will not attempt to restrict us." 
 
 "You are vastly mistaken, Zoe. You are both 
 entirely subject to my disposal mine by the right of 
 the law. It now remains to be seen if you will require 
 harsh treatment, or will receive kindness." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! and are we to be tortured still 
 further?" asked she; "without friends without 
 home. We are poor, destitute, and wretched." 
 
826 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "Not so not so," replied Talbot; " it is true that 
 your father left his affairs in such a situation that 
 nothing but superior management saved the property 
 from utter ruin ; still I am willing to share it with you, 
 on one condition." 
 
 " Name it, sir," she answered, as the rich blood 
 mounted to her forehead. 
 
 " To offer no objections to my suit, if not sanctioned 
 by the formalities of a long and tedious courtship ; ay, 
 and to be mine without in plain words without the 
 aid of a priest." 
 
 " "With or without one, never, sir," she exclaimed, 
 as she burst into tears. 
 
 " No ! don't sir," said Stamps, rising. " You prom 
 ised me you would not play this game she 's mine." 
 
 " Oh ! you are a fool, Billy. Of course it 's all in a 
 general way. I don't want her in particular." 
 
 " Well, see that you don't. Go talk to Estelle." 
 
 Talbot bit his lips frowned then smiled and 
 turned off toward the window, whistling and gazing 
 into the lighted streets. He, as well as Stamps, was 
 in a fury at the obstinacy, as they termed it, of the 
 girls. Talbot approached Estelle. 
 
 "What now, my pretty one," he said, as he sat 
 down by her side on the sofa, and attempted to take 
 her hand, -which she withdrew ; " you are mad with 
 me." 
 
 " No, sir, I am not." 
 
 "No! then what is it?" 
 ' " Because, sir, you are too contemptible for anger." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! my scornful beauty," he replied, piqued 
 at her scorn ; "I will learn you to love me. You 
 have been allotted to me." 
 
THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 327 
 
 " You will not obtain me, then." 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 "I am certain of it." 
 
 "You are a knowing little witch," he said, in a 
 tender manner, for he was now really affected by her 
 piquant beauty ; and he drew her suddenly to him, 
 imprinting a kiss upon her cheek. 
 
 She drew away in disgust and anger. 
 
 "Base, unmannered hound," she said; "you are a 
 villain." 
 
 "Oh I you are mistaken," he answered; "a mere 
 term, however;" and here he again threw his arms 
 around her. She again drew back, with some dif 
 ficulty, enraged, and as he again attempted the same 
 feat, she struck him with all her strength in the face. 
 Stung by rage, he forgot himself, and the base-born 
 scoundrel returned the bloiv. 
 
 " That was a most cowardly act 1" said Stamps, 
 turning round and looking him full in the face. 
 
 " You infernal little minx," exclaimed Talbot, " that 
 act settles your fate. You shall either submit, or I '11 
 put you up at auction and sell you to the highest bidder 
 for you are my slaves and the law will protect me 
 in my property. Come, Billy, let us go, and give the 
 jades a little time for reflection. Now, hear me," he 
 added, turning round as he reached the door; "you 
 shall for a few days have no molestation ; and I swear, 
 if you do not yield at the end of that time, I will use 
 the power I possess to compel you ; but you will bit 
 terly rue it, I assure you. Think," he said, tauntingly, 
 " how you would feel to be placed on the block, by the 
 side of a lot of fat negroes, and have your beauties 
 exposed to the gaze of a thousand libertines." 
 
328 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 . " In the name of Heaven, go, fiend ! and leave us a 
 few hours alone. Go ! and may the curse of the Pro 
 tector of the fatherless cling to you 1" 
 
 He retired from the door ; and as he went, he uttered 
 a low, chuckling, bitter laugh ; and the poor girls, as 
 they heard the key turn in the lock, fell into each 
 other's arms and wept. 
 
 The next day, during the morning, Talbot 'entered 
 their room again. 
 
 " Well, girls," he said, in a hypocritical voice, " I 
 hope you have thought well of this matter ; for I do 
 not intend to trifle with you, I assure you." 
 
 " All we want," said Zoe, tl is, if we are slaves, to 
 be allowed to earn our bread; but, sir, what right 
 have you to us? How are we slaves? Or is this 
 only a fable of yours ?" 
 
 " A fable I Well, it will prove a sad reality to you. 
 Listen ! Your mother was a slave a Quadroon slave 
 in the West Indies ; she was sold, and Colonel Or- 
 mond, attracted by her beauty, purchased her. They 
 lived together as man and wife, unmarried. The law 
 not allowing illegitimate children to inherit, I was the 
 heir, and your father never having freed your mother, 
 both you and she were slaves. You are my property, 
 as you were his. Now do you understand ?" 
 
 A deadly pallor overspread the cheek of the beau 
 tiful girl, as she followed him through to what was to 
 her a blasting death- stroke to her hopes. 
 
 " And is this true?" she murmured, sadly. 
 
 " If there is any doubt of it if you do doubt it 
 at all, I can bring a lawyer who will soon satisfy 
 you." 
 
 " Then are we lost indeed. Can this be so? Is it 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 829 
 
 true ? I am surely dreaming ; but no, it is a frightful 
 reality. I remember to have heard something like 
 this, years ago, from my father's negroes ; but oh ! I 
 never dreamed it true ; I was a little child then. Oh, 
 father, father! how terrific a curse you have be 
 queathed to your children !" 
 
 " It is not justice," said Estelle. 
 
 " Ah, my charmer! it may not be justice, but it is* 
 law." 
 
 " Is there no help on earth for it ?" asked Zoe, with 
 horror and consternation in her countenance. " Oh ! 
 why did our Creator allow us this suffering? "Why 
 did we leave the peaceful scenes of our convent life in 
 Paris ? Oh ! it is more awful than I could ever dream 
 of. A slave ! It is frightful 1" And here she pressed 
 her hands tightly over her eyes, as if it were to shut 
 out a horrible sight. She trembled violently, and 
 seemed to be on the point of going into hysterical 
 convulsions. 
 
 " Come, Zoe," he said, " do not despair. I will 
 make it as light as possible." 
 
 " Despair ! it is worse than despair ; it is worse than 
 death. Slaves! Oh! the idea is awful. I shall go 
 crazy. Come, sister," she exclaimed, " we are slaves ! 
 Come, let us go out to . our labor, let us bend our 
 knees to our master. Oh ! was it for this that we 
 were sent to school, refined, and educated mingling 
 with the nobility of France the pets of the kind 
 ladies to be ultimatelv dragged into the slave mar 
 ket!" 
 
 " Come, Zoe," exclaimed he, again, " resign your 
 selves into my hands, and I will act like a man." 
 
 " Ah 1" said Estelle, " if you were to act like a man, 
 
330 THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 
 
 you would let us go unharmed. You have all our 
 father's property. Shame on the manhood of him 
 that would claim his children as slaves !" 
 
 " Would it add to your honor/' said Zoe, " or your 
 happiness, to bruit it abroad that you had conquered 
 two weak and defenseless girls ? Ah ! if no touch of 
 pity moves your breast, let us buy our freedom. I 
 can give -music lessons, and Estelle can sew and. paint; 
 and when the last dollar is paid, we will fall on our 
 knees and bless you." 
 
 " There is only one method," he replied, coldly. "I 
 have mentioned the way, and the time is almost out ;" 
 and here he turned to leave the room. 
 
 " One question," said Estelle. 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " Are you a human being, or only a beast clothed 
 in a human form ?" 
 
 Talbot turned again without replying ; he was al 
 most frantic, and he now determined more than ever 
 to conquer them. He paced the hall backward and 
 forward for an hour, to cool his fevered brow, and 
 curb his impetuous temper. Suddenly he turned, and 
 again entered the room. 
 
 " Girls," exclaimed he, " this is folly. Why not 
 come to an understanding at once ? We need not be 
 enemies. Come, Estelle." Here he whispered in her 
 ear. As quick as a lightning's flash she leaped from 
 her seat, and sprang back as if she had touched an 
 adder. Her eyes flashed with anger, and her nostrils 
 dilated with scorn. 
 
 " Base and cruel man ! unnatural monster I" she ex 
 claimed. " And would you, could you-^could any man 
 born of woman ever stoop so low ? Could you forget 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 331 
 
 that there is a God above us, and then ask for such a 
 sacrifice ? Can any one calling himself a man forget 
 honor and gratitude ?" She approached him. "Sir," 
 she continued, as she gazed steadily in his eyes, before 
 whose pure fire his own trembled and averted their 
 look. He seemed to see again the form of the injured 
 Ormond, darting curses on him. " Can you forget 
 the father of the poor child whom you would now at 
 tempt to wrong ? Can you remember the time when 
 you came to his house a stranger and in want, and 
 then coolly and deliberately determine to crush the 
 child of such a parent, to consign her to infamy and 
 despair? Do you remember the pure, mild eyes of 
 my mother ? Do you remember any kindness shown 
 to you by her ? Can you remember any harshness 
 from either, and can you now, when you remember 
 our once happy home, can you, when the child of my 
 parents stands tremblingly before you a slave by am 
 accident, and in your power can you hesitate how to 
 act ? Oh ! no, you can not can not now doom two 
 innocent girls, who would have met you with so much 
 kindness, to misery and shame 1 Oh ! no, I know 
 you will not. Human nature is not so degraded. 
 You will free us, and I can even think that the eyes 
 of my mother are now cast to the throne of God, and 
 that her harpstrings send up a blessing for you." 
 
 Talbot, as bad as he was, actually felt this pathetic 
 appeal, and almost half relented. 
 
 A tap was heard at the door, and Stamps peered in. 
 He entered, and advanced to the side of Zoe. 
 
 "Well, Tolly, what success?" he asked. 
 
 "None at all." 
 
 " Well, I am thinking it is time to do something ; 
 
832 THE CBEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 as for myself, I will have my reward if the gates of 
 destruction were opened wide upon me." 
 
 " Oh ! do not surrender us to that man," exclaimed 
 Estelle, " he is a villain." This was said to Talbot. 
 
 "Alas! poor sister/' replied Zoe, "you lean on a 
 broken reed, for he is as bad as the other." 
 
 " The alternative is before you," said Talbot ; "we 
 only intend kindness." 
 
 " Kindness ! yes, such kindness as the hyena shows 
 to the trembling fawn when he is about to tear it in 
 pieces." 
 
 "Well, then, decide," he said, petulantly ; "agree 
 to our proposal, or the auction block." 
 
 "Is there no hope?" 
 
 "None!" 
 
 ""Well, leave us," replied Zoe, in tears, "leave us, 
 and we will think and weep over this concentration 
 of horrors." 
 
 It was in their own room, that night, that Talbot 
 and Stamps felicitated themselves on the victory 
 which they conceived they had gained. Talbot had a 
 new feeling awakened in him; he had heretofore 
 thought or cared for nothing but money. The cur 
 rent was now turned, and he was launched on the- sea 
 of sin ; every thought and every feeling else was swal 
 lowed up in this all-absorbing theme. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 "The sun 
 
 Declined, was hasting now with prone career 
 To th' ocean isles, and in the ascending scale 
 Of heaven, the stars that usher evening rose." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 WEEK Mr. Herndon left home, be had not fully 
 ^ ' decided in what manner to act ; but his first course 
 was to see Mr. Bland, with whom Ormond had the 
 conversation, and who had decided him, as has been 
 before detailed. Here he received information enough 
 to warrant him in pursuing his course. He learned 
 from him the fact with surprise that Ormond had 
 legally acknowledged the children, and legitimated 
 them. He remained in the city several weeks institut 
 ing inquiries, and at length found the vessel in which 
 the voyage was made to Porto Eico. The captain 
 confirmed him in his suspicions, and offered him every 
 assistance in his power. 
 
 He therefore set sail with him, and at the time he 
 was leaving the mouth of the Mississippi river, Zoe 
 and Estelle, under convoy of Stamps, entered it. We 
 will not follow him in bis inquiries, but state that he 
 found a vessel sailing for Martinique, in Havana. 
 
 He reached that island, and there learned to his in 
 expressible delight that Ormond had fully performed 
 his promise that the wife of his friend was free, and 
 
334 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 the children legitimated, and that no stain of Quad 
 roon blood tainted them. Oh ! how his heart bounded, 
 and his soul was lifted up in gratitude to that myste 
 rious Providence which had directed him aright in his 
 course; and how, lava-like, his blood boiled in his 
 veins when he thought of the usurper Talbot, and of 
 the poor children whom he was now to see righted. 
 With what joy he grasped the documents, copies of 
 the records ; and how gayly he stepped to the hotel to 
 hide the precious papers in his portfolio. 
 
 It was the evening before the vessel sailed on its 
 return that Herndon was stepping on board with his 
 luggage. A large American vessel was just coming 
 into the harbor, and he gazed proudly at the starry 
 flag, as it waved in massive folds on the evening air. 
 The anchor was dropped, and in a few moments a boat 
 was seen to pull from the sides, and approach the 
 shore. In the stern-sheets sat two figures which at 
 tracted his attention. He kept his look fastened on 
 the approaching boat. It appeared that the figures 
 were not unfamiliar to his eye. He looked more 
 steadily, and as the boat drew nearer, he could have 
 almost shouted with agitation. There were two known 
 faces. One was Grant but that was impossible. 
 Still, there he was, now more distinct. Herndon shut 
 his eyes it was an illusion. He feared to open them. 
 The boat passed around the bow. He could not pre 
 vent it his tongue involuntarily shouted 
 
 " Doctor!" 
 
 The person looked up steadily for a moment, then 
 hastily said, " Hold on ! stop pulling !" 
 
 "Are you Dr. Grant?" asked Herndon, in a trem 
 bling voice. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 335 
 
 " Herndon ! by the God of war !" shouted the doc 
 tor, for it was he. In a moment he was on board ; 
 and the two long separated friends pressed each other 
 in a close and hearty embrace. Smiles and tears were 
 mingled. Smiles of happiness, and tears of sorrow as 
 old reminiscences were disentombed from the grave 
 of feeling. Louis Lamotte was the other stranger, and 
 he shared in the common joy. 
 
 A few moments sufficed to explain their relative 
 positions; and a few moments more to transfer the 
 baggage to the vessel to sail in the morning. Hern 
 don had completed the business, and there was now no 
 necessity for remaining longer. They sailed, and mutual 
 explanations occupied them for a number of days. 
 
 For several days Talbot refrained from visiting the 
 persecuted orphans, save at meal times ; for he found 
 all his efforts to subdue them unavailing. They re 
 sisted every art.; and at the end of the time he was 
 fain to confess himself vanquished. He took imme 
 diate steps to transfer them from the hotel, but had 
 not decided whether to take them to the plantation, or 
 to a furnished room in the lower portion of the city. 
 
 The rain poured in torrents the streets were 
 deluged with water and almost impassable. Dark 
 and lowering clouds hung heavily over the city. 
 None were out on such a night, save the lurking 
 thief the outcast and the wanderer. Even the 
 drowsy watchmen had stowed themselves away in 
 warm corners, snugly to sleep off the storm, and leave 
 the good city to take care of itself. 
 
 Talbot and Stamps were treading the dark streets 
 toward the hotel. They had been in the lower por- 
 
336 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 tion of the city to look at an old mansion which, was 
 for rent. Along the dismal and rank-smelling streets 
 they trod. The current of poverty and wretched 
 ness was flowing at this dark hour. There was the 
 drunken sailor, reeling along with his last wages spent 
 in grog ; and the low debauchee, making night odious 
 with his songs ; and there were the women of the 
 street, with their scanty and flimsy dresses, their glar 
 ing red cheeks, and blood-shot eyes the grog-shop 
 pets. Children too, of tender age children of crime 
 and of wretchedness, with cunning imprinted in old 
 lines on their young faces, were there, with their 
 hardened little countenances ; and there was the sound 
 of the pot-house dance, the violence, the laugh, the un 
 chaste tongue, and the oath. 
 
 The two friends passed on hastily, with downcast 
 heads, avoiding the driving rain, and shrinking at 
 each successive peal of thunder, which now shook the 
 city to its trembling center. 
 
 Before them moves slowly a female form. At their 
 approach, she stops and looks around. She was a tall 
 commanding figure, and by the lightning's glare they 
 could see that her hair was disheveled, and a stream 
 of water was running down herfece. She was bare 
 headed ; and her dress, which had once been of some 
 thin material, was now draggled, wet, and muddy. 
 She had evidently once been handsome. 
 
 " Who are you?" she asked ; " and what want you 
 with a forlorn vagrant." 
 
 " Who are you?" replied Talbot, in return. 
 
 " I am what crime makes women," she replied ; and 
 her voice was low, tremulous, and not unmusical. 
 
 " What is your name ?" 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 337 
 
 "I have none. It was buried many years since, 
 with my honor." 
 
 Talbot turned to his companion, and whispered, 
 " We may make something of this ;" then turning, 
 exclaimed, " my good woman, you appear distressed, 
 and cold, and wet. Would you like a good situation, 
 to make yourself an honest woman again." 
 
 She gazed at him ; and it appeared that she did 
 not comprehend the question ; for it had to be repeated 
 ere she replied, 
 
 " I have been the sport of fortune too long now to 
 be duped by you. Leave me alone, and go your 
 way." 
 
 " But you do not comprehend me. Will you, if I 
 clothe and feed you will you serve me ?" 
 
 "Food!" she cried, wildly; "food! oh! I will do 
 any thing for food." 
 
 " Well, follow me." 
 
 "Are you crazy?" said Stamps; "what do you 
 want with this night hag ?" 
 
 "Billy, I have a head which has brought me 
 through many an intricate plot ; see now if I don't 
 turn this fo advantage." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Come on, come on ; walk faster." 
 
 The poor creature mechanically obeyed the voice 
 of her conductor, and painfully followed them. As 
 they passed a small grocery, at the window of which 
 was still a light, he paused and there procured a por 
 tion of food for the miserable being. She devoured 
 with the eagerness which famine can only give the 
 bread and other articles furnished; and then, when 
 she had finished, gazed wistfully around. 
 
 15 
 
338 .THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "Let her have it," said Talbot, who stood, by and 
 had been looking at her in astonishment. 
 
 "What?" said the shopman. 
 
 " Give her liquor ; do you not see what she needs." 
 The shopman smiled at the penetration of Talbot, and 
 poured out for her a half tumbler full of raw brandy. 
 She swallowed it without any hesitation, uttered a 
 deep sigh of pleasure, then arose and looked up at 
 Talbot. "Have you finished?" he asked. A nod of 
 assent was given, he threw down a piece of money on 
 the counter and turned away. The storm continued, 
 and they again plunged into the darkness. 
 
 Some time elapsed and they reached the hotel. It 
 was late, and the private entrance for ladies was 
 closed. A ruse was planned. Stamps went up to 
 their room and brought down his cloak; this was 
 thrown over the shoulders of the exhausted woman, 
 and thus under cover concealing the wet and soiled 
 dress, she was introduced into the hotel and into 
 Stanips's room. 
 
 Caution was given to her not to speak ; a few bed 
 clothes made into a pallet on the floor, and the wretch 
 was soon sleeping soundly. 
 
 " "Well, now for your explanation," said Stamps, the 
 next morning, as they descended the steps to the bar 
 room for their bitters. 
 
 " Listen, then ; this is a woman who is perfectly 
 dependent on us ; she is a beggar, and we can use her 
 in every sense ; she will be a watchguard on the girls ; 
 no one can approach them ; and when we leave the 
 house, we will leave a good deputy. We can attach 
 her to our interests, and she can work on their feelings 
 as a woman only knows how. We can mold them, to 
 
THE CREOLE OKPHANS. 339 
 
 our wishes through her, and prevent them from hold 
 ing communication with any one. Do you now see 
 the cream of the idea?" 
 
 " I do ; and I acknowledge ifc will be a most excel* 
 lent thing ; for, as you say, by introducing her as their 
 attendant we will have another fast friend, and a spy 
 in the camp." 
 
 After breakfast, Talbot went out and purchased 
 clothing for their acquisition, so as to introduce her 
 suitably to Zoe and Estelle. The articles were brought 
 in, and as he left the room he exclaimed 
 
 " Come, rig yourself out, now, and when you have 
 finished I wish to talk with you ; I am going to pre 
 sent you to some ladies this morning, who need an at 
 tendant." 
 
 In an hour he returned, and found her attired in a 
 decent manner. A remarkable change had occurred 
 in her ; she, instead of resembling what she had been, 
 now seemed a decent serving- woman. 
 
 " What is your name ?" he asked, as he threw him 
 self in a chair. The woman studied a moment and 
 then replied, 
 
 " You can call me Catherine, sir." 
 
 "Catherine what?" 
 
 " Catherine Nothing." 
 
 "Very well, Mrs. Catherine Nothing, wife of a bank 
 rupt tradesman, forced to seek a place, now you are 
 aware that I know what you are ?" 
 
 "It is probable." 
 
 ."Very good again; Lwant you to attend on two 
 young ladies ; they are my favorites, and I want them 
 well watched. Can you do it ?" 
 
 "I can do any thing to keep out of the street." 
 
340 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 "That is good; here is plenty of gold ;" and he 
 drew out his purse, through the green silk net- work 
 of which the metal shone. "Only be faithful, and 
 whatever you want you shall have." 
 
 "I will be faithful." 
 
 "Now I will tell you these girls are in my power, 
 and they are perverse ; they yield to me when death 
 comes, not before. I want their feelings wrought upon, 
 and wish them bent to my wishes ; they are mine ; more 
 I will tell you another time. Can you undertake it ?" 
 
 " I can, and will promise obedience. I was ruined ; 
 why should I not lend my aid to ruin others. I will 
 and can assist you." 
 
 "You will obey me, then, in all things?" 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 " Then say what you wish, and if you keep your 
 promise faithfully, you shall never want; I under 
 stand that you are mine to obey ?" 
 
 "lam." 
 
 " I wish to subdue these girls ; more you will learn 
 anon; do you comprehend me?" 
 
 "I were an idiot did I not." 
 
 " Then follow me." He led the way, and she fol 
 lowed. At the door he paused and turned ; a look of 
 authority directed to her and a motion to come nearer 
 was given. 
 
 " Eemember," said he, in a low voice. 
 
 " Never fear," she answered, as a look of peculiar 
 intelligence shot from her dull eyes. 
 
 " Zoe, I have brought you and Estelle an attendant ; 
 she is faithful ; treat her kindly." 
 
 ""We feel obliged to you," she replied, "but could 
 have done without this mark of your attention." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 341 
 
 He turned and looked at the woman. He noticed a 
 deep forbidding expression pass over her features ; he 
 was satisfied ; he knew that Zoe had made an enemy. 
 He saw the angry spot pass over her cheek, the eye 
 kindle, and he knew that she was faithful. 
 
 The day arrived again, and a carriage was drawn 
 up at the private entrance of the hotel, as Talbot es 
 corted the two girls and their servant down to the 
 vehicle, and entered it with them. Their state-rooms 
 had been secured by Stamps on the steamer, and to it 
 they were driven. The servant was faithful ; she was 
 just the being Talbot wanted ; deep and impassable, 
 unprincipled, and unfeeling. She who had been de 
 ceived now gloried in leading on to ruin an innocent 
 girl. It was an especial pleasure for her to sit and 
 gaze on them, to see their smooth cheeks and elegant 
 forms, and to calculate how much suffering and time 
 it would require to dim the brightness of those orbs, 
 to hollow those cheeks, and place the seal of despair 
 on those brows. She gloried in such work, and Tal 
 bot could not have found a more fitting agent. She 
 duly reported all that was said and done by them, and 
 a sigh could not have been drawn, a murmur whispered, 
 or a pearly tear be shed, but it was regularly chron 
 icled to head-quarters. She tried to conciliate them 
 at first, but met with a cold repulse, and therefore tried 
 no more. They did not treat her unkindly, but were 
 not free in their intercourse with her, and at the same 
 time expressed to her their feelings in regard to their 
 situation. 
 
 They approached what had once been their home. 
 The oak-trees waved their branches still, but mourn 
 fully; and the flowers bloomed, but from amid the 
 
342 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 rank grass. There was a welcome, but a sad one. 
 No one knew them when they walked up the avenue 
 to their father's dwelling; the servants who had 
 nursed them in childhood knew them no more. They 
 were kept in strict seclusion ; even old Sylvia was not 
 allowed to see them, and no servant knew that their 
 master's children were in the house, prisoners, and 
 under a cruel tyrant. None had access to them but 
 through Catherine, who attended to them and their 
 room. 
 
 Another attack was made upon them now, but 
 without success. Talbot even offered them their free 
 dom, but they had rather be bond-slaves and live with 
 honor, than be free without it, and his suit and offer 
 were rejected with disdain. 
 
 Talbot had thought well of what he was about to 
 do ; he had built up an edifice of villainy, and was 
 now about to put on the crowning stone. He had 
 sworn a deep revenge, and vowed to sell the girls as 
 slaves at auction, and he would not forego it. When 
 informed of his final determination, they silently wept, 
 but spoke not a word, well knowing how vain were 
 words of petition to him, who seemed not to possess 
 the ordinary feelings of humanity. Stamps entirely 
 coincided with Talbot in his views, and agreed to go 
 up to a parish town where there were negro sales the 
 first Monday in every month, to make arrangements 
 with the vendor to have Zoe and Estelle offered at the 
 same time. 
 
 Talbot knew he had a desperate game to play, and 
 he would have receded from the step, but he was 
 aware that it was death to retrograde, and his revenge 
 would be unaccomplished. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 843 
 
 A week elapsed, and Stamps had returned. There 
 was to be a large sale of negros, and he had made 
 arrangements with the auctioneer to offer them for 
 sale. 
 
 A last offer was made to them ; but they remained 
 firm, and preserved their virtue. 
 
 The reader may wonder why such an idea as selling 
 the girls ever entered his head. 
 
 There are some spirits so perverse, some so refined 
 in their cruelty, that common mortals can not conceive 
 the incomings and outgoings of their minds ; and he 
 knew that by their actually being sold at a public sale 
 it would forever bar the claim set up by them for 
 their father's property, and its very boldness would 
 prevent opposition. He would be revenged nobly, 
 amply. At any rate, he had been foiled, cut in his 
 most tender point, and he determined to carry it out. 
 Accordingly, Colonel Ormond's carriage, which had 
 never been used since his death, was drawn out, and 
 put in repair. 
 
 The day came ; it was yet the gray of the morning, 
 and the poor orphans were placed in the carriage, to 
 be carried to the sacrifice. Talbot went with them, 
 and Stamps rode by their side ; thus they set forth. 
 Catherine went also ; even she was touched with pity 
 at the sacrifice, and would have retracted if she could. 
 
 Talbot gloried in his power ; but there was an eye 
 which watched these proceedings, and an arm ready 
 to avenge them. There were rescuers near ; their 
 prayer was answered. Pierre had listened to the con 
 versation between him and Stamps when they thought 
 no mortal ear heard them. He knew the girls, he 
 heard the whole plot, he saw them set forth, and he 
 
344 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 patiently waited for the arrival of Mr. Herndon. A 
 tale lie liad to tell : for many a night had he silently 
 sneaked beneath the window or behind doors, and 
 had eagerly drank in all the plot. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "Destruction! swift destruction! 
 Fall on my coward head, and make my name 
 The common scorn of fools, if I forgive him." 
 
 . VENICE PEESKEVED. 
 
 TT7"HEN the girls awoke in the town in wKich they 
 had arrived the night previous, it was morning. 
 They found their own clothes gone, and a couple of 
 coarse calico dresses substituted in their stead. Cathe 
 rine coolly informed them that they were the ones in 
 which they were to appear. "When they looked out 
 through the windows of their sleeping apartment on 
 the bright skies, heard the little birds gayly singing 
 among the branches of the trees, and saw all nature 
 refreshed and joyous, they turned sick at heart, and 
 Zoe came near fainting. They thought they had sum 
 moned courage enough to meet their fate, but nature 
 would prevail. 
 
 Zoe looked on her sister sadly, and bitterly smiled 
 as she donned her garb. " These are our robes of 
 slavery, sister." 
 
 " Yes," replied Estelle ; " but, sister, I feel lighter 
 at heart this morning than usual. It may be that I 
 am going mad, or it may be faith I feel that God 
 will not, at the last moment, permit this sacrifice. 
 You taught me the faith in our God, sister." 
 
 Zoe looked earnestly at Estelle ; she trembled, for 
 15* 
 
346 THE CREOLE ORPHAN'S. 
 
 she feared that the sparkle of the eye was the symp 
 tom of incipient madness. 
 
 " You doubt my sanity, sister ; but do not fear." 
 
 " Why is this strange gayety, Estelle ?" said she, as 
 she tenderly took her hand. 
 
 " Sister," she replied, earnestly, " I have had a 
 dream. I thought our dear mother stood beside my 
 bed, and soothed my brow, as she was wont to do in 
 other days, and she smiled benignly on me. Her form 
 was bright as the rays of heaven's own light, and as 
 she spoke, her voice resemble'd the tones of a lute. 
 She softly breathed, 1 1 am with you, my child ; it is 
 power given by God to me to be ever with you in 
 spirit. I am always with you, guarding you from dan 
 ger. Be of good cheer : this is a trial, but all will go 
 well.' This said, she slowly faded away. I then 
 thought that I sat in our dear old garden, here at 
 home, listening to the gentle swell of the summer 
 wind, and that there was a sound of sweet, soft music 
 oh ! so sweet and pure and that it was our moth 
 er's prayer, ascending to God for us." 
 
 The tears streamed from Zoe's eyes, as she listened 
 to the simple and pathetic recital ; and, as she clasped 
 her in her arms, she exclaimed, " Oh ! God, this is too 
 much, too much 1 Oh ! father, mother, little dreamed 
 you of this!" 
 
 " Come, come, girls !" sharply cried the woman, who, 
 during all this time, had stood by without a muscle in 
 her countenance betraying a single emotion, " you 
 must be getting ready. If you don't, I will be 
 blamed." 
 
 They silently obeyed her, with streaming eyes. 
 
 " Sister," exclaimed Estelle, " I can not help feeling 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 347 
 
 that there is more in my dream than it seems. I feel 
 confident that this most monstrous villainy will not be 
 allowed to go on." 
 
 " Ah ! dear Estelle, do not buoy yourself up with 
 hopes, which, like bubbles, will burst. Oh ! no, we 
 are doomed." 
 
 " All the help you will get," exclaimed the discord 
 ant voice of the woman, " will be that some gay young 
 gentleman, who has got more money than brains, will 
 buy you, defy laws, and make ladies of you. And 
 why should they not? others as good have been 
 ruined." 
 
 They turned pale at this unfeeling speech; they 
 strongly compressed their lips, and then merely said, 
 " God help us !" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, He can if He will, but He ain't a-goin' 
 to. Why did n't He help me fifteen years ago, when 
 I was young, and innocent, and pretty ? Ay, pretty ! 
 you need not look so. I was young and pretty once ; 
 the roses bloomed on my cheek, and my young heart 
 was uncrushed, and the earth was bright and lovely, 
 and a song was ever on my lips. But my poor old 
 mother died. She is in heaven now, God bless her ; 
 and I was deceived. Then, when the odor was taken 
 from the flower ; when the roses were all withered up, 
 the thorns were, left the young heart was blighted. 
 Then, then I was turned out into the streets of Bos 
 ton, to beg, or starve, or steal, or do worse. Ay, and 
 I did do worse, and and I became what I am, and 
 have been ever since, and always will be ! Yes ! I 
 say, why should you not be what I am. You are 
 nothing but women. Why should not the well-stream 
 of your affections be dried up, and your young feel- 
 
348 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 ings blighted, your hopes cut short, and the golden 
 fruits of the autumn of your life be turned to bitter 
 ashes?" 
 
 " Oh ! hush ! in the name of our holy mother 1" ex 
 claimed Zoe, putting her hands to her ears. 
 
 " Ah 1 well, if it will do you any good, I will hush ; 
 but you will find it is the best way to give in at once. 
 It ain't no use to struggle against it ; it 's fate. Others 
 have had to do the same. If I could save you, I 
 would, but I can't ; and there comes my master," she 
 added, hastily. 
 
 Talbot now entered the room, accompanied by 
 Stamps and another person. He seemed to be a 
 planter, for he was dressed in plain clothes, and car 
 ried a riding-whip. But there was a look of manly 
 independence about him which compared favorably 
 with the others. He started with surprise when he 
 saw the girls. 
 
 "Are these the Quadroons you mean?" he asked, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " Yes," replied Talbot, " these two. Come, stand up 
 here, Zoe; you and Estelle. Pretty good-looking, 
 ain't they ?" he added, with a sly wink at the stranger. 
 He had been drinking very freely that morning. 
 
 " Yes, they are remarkably pretty ; and I do not 
 know what to think of it. They are as white as you 
 or myself." 
 
 "Oh! as to that, here are the papers," he said, tak 
 ing out a bundle ; " here- is the certificate of the parish 
 judge and clerk of the court." 
 
 " Well, that is all right," he replied, "but they are 
 too pretty to sell. I would free them, and so would 
 any other man." 
 
THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 349 
 
 " I will not, though ! I can't afford to lose on them." 
 
 " Of course any man has a right to do as he chooses 
 with his own property." 
 
 Talbot was acting the brutal negro-trader, and he 
 did it to perfection. He did not really wish to sell 
 them then, but he thought it would add another pang 
 to the hearts of the persecuted children, to be handled 
 like beasts by strange, unfeeling hands. He wished 
 the pleasure, the revenge of exhibiting them before 
 low-bred, unfeeling overseers and traders. He gloried 
 in tearing their young hearts with agony. He ordered 
 them to rise again. Zoe did so, but Estelle obstinately 
 refused to leave her seat. He walked across the room, 
 and, seizing her by the arm, forcibly jerked her up. 
 The sudden motion caused all her long, dark hair to 
 fall showering over her shoulders. She resisted, and 
 gathered up the tresses in her hand. He was furious 
 with passion and liquor. 
 
 " Oh ho 1" he exclaimed, " your hair is too trouble 
 some ; here, I will soon relieve you of it ;" and, seiz- 
 her long, beautiful hair in his hands, at the back of her 
 head, he called for a pair of scissors. Catherine 
 brought them, and, with a few cuts, he severed it, or 
 the greater portion of it, close to her head, and threw 
 it on the floor. 
 
 "Unmanly coward!" cried Zoe; but she checked 
 herself, remembering her situation. 
 
 " It appears to me that you have done the lowest 
 trick I ever saw a man do even if they are niggers," 
 exclaimed the stranger ; " and you ought to be put in 
 their place, you rascal, and whipped to death." And 
 here he put his hands in his pockets, and left the room. 
 
 Talbot was in a moment heartily ashamed of his 
 
350 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 act ; and would have given much to recall it ; but he 
 resolved to brave it through ; and busting into a hoarse 
 laugh, he followed the other from the room. 
 
 Stamps remained behind, leaning against the chim 
 ney-piece. He had witnessed the act, and stood gazing 
 on the floor. At length he looked up, and sighed 
 deeply. " Well, all I wish is, that I had never had 
 any thing to do with this and with such a man." 
 Zoe heard him, and her heart fluttered with agitation. 
 She turned her eyes toward him a moment, and trem 
 blingly exclaimed " Oh, sir, your heart is touched at 
 our distress. Will you assist us ?" 
 
 " My poor girl," he replied, " it is too late for me 
 to do any thing now, if I felt inclined. When I went 
 to Paris after you was the time." After a pause, he 
 continued, " I once thought I could look unmoved on 
 any thing ; but when I saw that man go up to that 
 poor child, and, like a malicious "devil, cut off her hair ; 
 and she, an uncomplaining angel, not to say a word, or 
 make a motion, but look so sorrowful and pitiful, like 
 a lamb that the butcher's bloody hands are upon, that 
 touched me ; and I repeat, that I am sorry that I ever 
 lent my aid to any such a scheme ; and if there is a 
 God, he will punish it." 
 
 " Oh, do not doubt it !" exclaimed Zoe ; " do not 
 doubt it ; there is a great and good Father above us 
 all. Oh, do help us, and he will bless you." 
 
 " Tut, tut," replied the woman ; " keep still ; and 
 you," she remarked to him ; " you are a pretty fellow 
 to stir up a rebellion among your friend's property." 
 
 " Come, Catherine !" he said, " you have been badly 
 treated, but you have no feeling. You are a fit match 
 for Talbot." 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 351 
 
 " I glory in the depravity of human nature," she 
 replied, exultingly ; " you are a milk-sop by the side 
 x>f him., I was not depraved when a child; and I 
 want to see misery for misery." , 
 
 11 That may be a very good doctrine," he remarked, 
 " but not one that is preached by good men." 
 
 " There is nothing good in this world," she said ; 
 ''nothing! but what did you call that man Talbot 
 for ? Why harrow up my soul with that name that 
 I hoped was dead? You call him Tolly. 
 
 " That is a nick-name ; but what do you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! only that was the name of a happy 
 family before ruin came into it." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "In the whitened sepulcher of Boston." 
 
 " Did you live there?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Is Catherine your real name?" 
 
 " It was not." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " Fancy." 
 
 "You are Talbot's sister," he exclaimed, as he 
 rushed from the room. In a few moments Talbot 
 entered. His face was pale, and his teeth were 
 clinched upon his whitened lips. ' 
 
 .-' Woman," he said, sternly, approaching her, "I 
 learn that your name is Talbot." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You lived in Boston ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Nancy Talbot was your mother." <.. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then you are my sister." 
 
352 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " I have found a nice relation." 
 
 " And I." 
 
 "No recrimination. I have played a horrid and 
 unnatural part." 
 
 " When this scene is acted I shall die the aveng 
 ing finger of God is upon you}" 1 
 
 "I believe you are more sinned against than sin 
 ning, Nancy." He went hastily down stairs. 
 
 " There is no hope," sighed Zoe. 
 
 "None, none!" echoed Estelle. 
 
 The day wore on. Zoe was sad and uncomplain 
 ing, Estelle in tears. 
 
 Nancy, whom we will now call by her proper name, 
 sat in a corner, with a handkerchief over her head. 
 She was silent, and would reply to no questions. 
 
 Estelle was nervous and excited; and kept con 
 stantly going to the window, as if she was expecting 
 some person. 
 
 Talbot had been in and out several times. He had 
 drank freely, and his face was flushed. He seemed to 
 be losing his accustomed sagacity. He would ap 
 proach Nancy gaze at her seem to be moved 
 then, as if he would spurn her with his foot, turn off 
 to Estelle. In going down the steps he met 
 Stamps. 
 
 " Tolly," said he, "I have urged you all along to 
 go through with this matter ; but I feel this morning 
 asJ[ never felt before. The poor things look so pitiful 
 so helpless and unprotected that I can not help 
 feeling for them." 
 
 "Why, you are turning to be a soft, putty-headed 
 fool," he replied, with a smile of contempt. " What 
 
THE CREOLE OEPHANS. 353 
 
 has got into you, Billy? Are you going to join the 
 church ? Are you afraid ?" 
 
 " Tolly, you know I am not. "Where hard knocks 
 are going, there I '11 never flinch ; but I don't like 
 this." 
 
 "Your conversion is sudden," replied Talbot, en 
 raged. 
 
 " So was Saul's. I only wish mine had been 
 earlier. Tolly, you may do what you please, but I '11 
 be hanged if I move another peg in the affair." 
 
 "Well, I'll carry it on myself, then," he answered, 
 turning off abruptly. " Even the devil is against me," 
 he muttered, as he walked slowly back. 
 
 There was, as we have said, a number of negros 
 belonging to a succession, to be sold at the Court 
 House this day; and the sale had been extensively 
 advertised. 
 
 There were many planters and others in town, and 
 more constantly coming in. 
 
 The sale began. Many negros were sold, but it 
 was the mere changing one home for another, only 
 the transfer of a negro from one plantation to another, 
 where the same rights and privileges were allowed 
 them. "Whole families were sold together, not sepa 
 rate, as some have averred. Many persons had come 
 to the sale for the purpose of purchasing, and others 
 for sight-seeing; many to compare notes on their 
 crops, and take a friendly drink ; and some to elec 
 tioneer. But others had heard of the sale, and had 
 come for the purpose of seeing the two beautiful 
 Quadroon girls, whose fame had gone abroad. The 
 sale proceeded, and, finally, the first crowd of negros 
 were sold. The auctioneer now informed Talbot, who 
 
354 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 stood by, that lie must bring out his slaves. His heart 
 beat fast, and he felt that if he could have crept out of 
 it, he would have done so. " Are they not my slaves ?" 
 he muttered, as he walked toward the hotel; "at 
 least, until some one takes the trouble of finding out 
 the truth." 
 
 It was not many minutes ere he entered the room. 
 The girls sat hand in hand, with cheeks from which 
 every vestige of color had fled. "When they saw 
 him Estelle uttered a scream, and both trembled vio 
 lently. 
 
 ""Will you agree to my terms now?" he asked, 
 tauntingly. 
 
 Zoe looked at her sister inquiringly. 
 
 " Nonpas ; en Dieu est man espoir" she said. 
 
 Zoe turned to him, and replied, calmly, " No, sir ; 
 do your worst." 
 
 " Then, come," he answered ; "the auction block is 
 ready for you." 
 
 Both arose. Zoe laughed hysterically, but he seized 
 her by the arm, and forced her forward. 
 
 "You scorned me," said he; "now comes my 
 time." 
 
 Your revenge is terrible, Talbot; but do not tell 
 how you treated the children of your benefactor, 
 for it may be the means of preventing some other 
 Ormond from helping another fellow-creature in dis 
 tress ; it will make men lose confidence in human 
 nature. 
 
 They left the room. Nancy sprung up from her 
 seat; her eyes sparkled wildly, and she stretched 
 forth her skinny hand in a menacing attitude. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 355 
 
 " You go to your death !" site exclaimed, with the 
 air of a prophetess. 
 
 "All are turning fools," he answered ; while she stood 
 gazing after them, as they slowly went down the steps. 
 
 Stamps paced hurriedly back and forth in his own 
 room ; he was in a state of violent agitation. 
 
 Talbot walked first, with the papers proving the 
 girls to be of negro descent, and slaves, and his prop 
 erty; while they followed slowly, with downcast 
 heads, behind him. 
 
 "When they came up to the stand, expressions of 
 astonishment greeted them from the group assembled 
 there, and murmurs of surprise were audible, mingled 
 with those of distrust. "jK 
 
 " These girls are white women !" shouted some one 
 in the crowd. 
 
 " The owner is present," answered the auctioneer ; 
 " and here, in my hands, I hold his titles to the prop- 
 erty." 
 
 " Eead them 1 read them !" cried several. 
 
 The auctioneer here read the certificates, which 
 really proved the property to be his. 
 
 " It 's a terrible shame !" cried some one. 
 
 Talbot was exceedingly alarmed. 
 
 " There is no mistake about it," said the auctioneer; 
 " they are the children of a white man by a Quadroon 
 woman ; it is all fair, but they ought to be free ; the 
 papers are right. Come, up with the eldest one." 
 
 Zoe was lifted up on the stand, and made to pull off 
 her bonnet. There stood the tenderly-raised girl, the 
 refined and cultivated lady, exposed for public sale, 
 and the blush of shame called to her cheek by the 
 licentious and bold gaze of a hundred men. She 
 
356 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 could not speak, her tongue grew thick, and her brain 
 denied her eyes the power of performing their office ; 
 a misty haze fell upon her senses ; the agony of ages 
 was concentrated in a single moment of time. She 
 was supported by the assistant auctioneer ; every thing 
 was dark around her ; eager eyes were bent on her as 
 the auctioneer proceeded and descanted on her beauty 
 and fine form. 
 
 " How much am I offered for this girl, only eight 
 een years old, and a full guaranty as to title ? One 
 thousand dollars ! only one thousand !" 
 
 Eleven hundred was offered by a rakish-looking old 
 fellow, who took snuff, and had an accent like a Lon 
 don cockney. 
 
 As she composed herself, her eyes were bent on the 
 crowd ; eagerly she sought for some friendly face, but 
 although there were many noble countenances in the 
 assembly, many of whom expressed sympathy, yet 
 surprise at her extreme beauty kept them silent. 
 
 Twelve, thirteen hundred dollars were successively 
 bid the poor girl gasped for breath. The bids were 
 not animated ; they seemed to come reluctantly ; dis 
 content was manifest, and a low murmuring was dis 
 cernible. At first it was feeble, but it gathered strength 
 as it proceeded. 
 
 " Fourteen hundred dollars !" cried a young planter, 
 whose gaze was fixed on her. 
 
 " We will stop this sale !" cried one. 
 
 " She can not be a slave !" said another. 
 
 " We can not allow this sale to proceed !" exclaimed 
 a tall, noble-looking man. 
 
 " Upon what ground do you enjoin it?" asked the 
 auctioneer. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 357 
 
 A faintness came over Zoe. 
 
 "Because we believe there is rascality in the affair." 
 
 " Fifteen hundred dollars ! A splendid sempstress, 
 and fully guaranteed; first-rate hairdresser. Fifteen 
 hundred and fifty ! Worth double the money 1" 
 
 A pause followed. 
 
 " Sixteen hundred dollars ! Can read and write." 
 
 " Stop ! we will investigate this affair." 
 
 " Here are the papers ; the owner is well known as 
 a wealthy planter." 
 
 "Damn the papers ! damn the owner !" 
 
 The crowd now grew noisy, and it was plainly per 
 ceptible that there would be a riot. 
 
 " Order, gentlemen, order !" 
 
 Curses and loud exclamations were heard, and the 
 tumult was so great as to preclude all possibility of the 
 sale proceeding. 
 
 " Mr. Sheriff!" cried the auctioneer, " I call on you 
 to keep the peace." 
 
 " Damn the sheriff! If she is a slave, we will buy 
 and free her," shouted one. 
 
 " Yes, yes!" 
 
 "Order! order!" 
 
 "Ask the girl some questions," cried one. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; that 's the ticket !" 
 
 " Are you a slave or not?" asked a gentleman. 
 
 The poor girl trembled violently; she tried to 
 speak ; her lips moved ; a deadly paleness came over 
 her features, and she 'fell back in a death-like 
 swoon. 
 
 Just as the tumult was at its greatest height, the 
 sound of horses' feet were heard, and down the, road 
 came a band of men, enveloped in a cloud of dust. 
 
358 THE CEEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 They came thundering up, and into the crowd, which 
 scattered right and left. 
 
 li Hold!" .exclaimed a deep voice from among the 
 horsemen. The speaker made his way to the stand, 
 and leaped from his steed, while the crowd gave way, 
 as the others followed his example. 
 
 " God has heard our prayer ! Oh, mother, you have 
 done this 1" cried Estelle, as she fell into the arms of 
 Dr. Grant for it was he. Upon the scaffold was 
 Louis Lamotte ; he was supporting the insensible form 
 of Zoe. 
 
 "Dear Zoe !" he cried, pressing her convulsively to 
 his bosom, " awake ! awake 1 you are saved ! you are 
 among your friends." 
 
 "Where is the atrocious scoun'drel?" cried Mr. 
 Herndon, seeking Talbot in the crowd. So absorbed 
 had been every person present, that they had not 
 given any attention to Talbot during this extraordin 
 ary scene. He was now sought, but was not to be 
 seen. " Help me to seek him, gentlemen," said Mr. 
 Herndon. " When we have secured him, we will ex 
 plain it all." 
 
 The crowd now scattered through the town to search 
 for him. The excitement was intense, and maledic 
 tions resounded from all sides. 
 
 Talbot, however, was off. A negro stated that he 
 had just come in town with a team, and that a man 
 on horseback had passed him at full speed, going 
 toward the river. A party of armed men instantly 
 mounted, and started in pursuit. 
 
 " Five thousand dollars," cried Dr. Grant, " to the 
 man who catches him alive." 
 
 The crowd spurred on, with a stern determination 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 359 
 
 to wreak on him their vengeance. Mr. Herndon fol 
 lowed after them. He was bent upon capturing him 
 alive, to inflict on him the most terrible punishment. 
 
 Zoe had by this time recovered, and hid her face 
 in Louis's bosom. They were taken toward the hotel. 
 
 " Where is the other villain?" asked Dr. Grant. 
 
 " He is at the hotel," replied Zoe. 
 
 Immediately a rush was made to prevent his escape. 
 The building was surrounded, and several men went 
 to the room. It was secured. They demanded admit 
 tance, but no answer was returned. A threat to break 
 in the door was answered by a scornful laugh ; and 
 then the wild gibbering of a female voice was heard, 
 as if from a lunatic. 
 
 Stamps was in the room, however. He had seen 
 the horsemen when they passed the hotel, and he 
 knew the game was up. He knew he had to die or be 
 imprisoned, and he preferred the former. He^ would 
 not yield. 
 
 When the threat of opening the door by force was 
 made, he remained silent ; but when blows began to 
 resound through the house, he called out, "Hold!" 
 and sprang at once into the gallery which overlooked 
 the street. The crowd received him with cheers of 
 derision, and shouts of execration. 
 
 He stood calmly, with his hands folded over his 
 breast, and returned back the look of scorn fearlessly. 
 If ever he did look nobty, it was then, as he there 
 stood, confronting the angry crowd, cool and collected, 
 gazing defiance below. 
 
 " Shoot him 1" cried one ; and several pistols were 
 drawn to execute the order ; but they were struck up, 
 and exploded harmlessly in the air. Stamps moved 
 
360 THE CKEOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 not, as the balls whistled past him, and struck the 
 splinters from the weather-boarding behind him. He 
 was calm, and a look of cold contempt was upon his 
 lips. Not a muscle quivered, as the terrible cry rang 
 out from the maddened mob. 
 
 " He 's game, at any rate," said an old backwoods 
 man. 
 
 " We will give him a warmer death than that I" 
 cried Dr. Grant, now appearing from the hotel. 
 
 " Burn him ! burn him alive !" shouted a voice. 
 
 "Hold, a moment!" cried Stamps. The angry 
 crowd sank into a gentle murmur. 
 
 " I know very well that I will never leave here 
 alive. I know that I am bound to die ; but it will 
 never be by your hands. My neck was never formed 
 for a halter, or my form for the torch. Singly, I would 
 cope with any one of you here ; but you are all against 
 me." 
 
 " "We '11 see, we '11 see I" they cried. " Eun up, and 
 break open the door. "We will prevent his escape that 
 way." 
 
 " Wait ! don't give yourselves any trouble !" he 
 exclaimed, with a sneering smile. Here he drew a 
 pistol from his bosom, and, coolly cocking it, placed 
 it to his head. He gazed upward for a moment ; his 
 lips moved ; a cry of horror rang through the mass, 
 and fifty arms were stretched out, as if to grasp the 
 weapon. His finger moved convulsively, and a report 
 was heard. He sprang upward, and then fell heavily 
 on the floor. His brains were spattered against the 
 wall. 
 
 " Behold the finger of God !" cried a female voice ; 
 and a maniac appeared by the side of the bloody corpse. 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHAN'S. . 361 
 
 A deep groan resounded through the crowd, and 
 they silently dispersed, with a chill of horror at the 
 tragedy. 
 
 It will interest the reader to know how our friends 
 happened to arrive so opportunely. 
 
 Upon reaching New Orleans, they took the first 
 boat up-stream, and arrived just two days after Talbot 
 had taken the girls away, as has been detailed. Mr. 
 Herndon sought Eierre, who informed him of the 
 whole plot ; and the three at once left, post haste, in 
 pursuit. They traveled all night, and only stopped to 
 procure fresh horses and food. They thus arrived in 
 time to prevent the devilish designs of Talbot. 
 
 The reunited friends occupied the parlor of the 
 hotel, and the sweet communion of souls soon relieved 
 them of the horrible feeling which oppressed them. 
 The events of the past years were not touched upon ; 
 that was reserved for another time. They questioned 
 the girls about their late adventures only enough to 
 understand the conduct of Talbot. With reserve and 
 diffidence Zoe hid every thing of a gross nature, 
 but said enough to make them comprehend the de 
 signs of the man whom their father had taken by the 
 hand. 
 
 "The plan was well conceived," said the doctor, 
 " and came very nearly being well executed ; but they 
 will overtake him doubtless, and I am afraid Herndon 
 will kill him. You can never sufficiently thank Mr. 
 Herndon for the interest he has taken in you." 
 
 To return to Talbot. He had seen with intuitive 
 tact, long before the scene of the arrival, that matters 
 were drawing to a culminating point. He saw that a 
 scene was to be enacted, and he did not wish to be 
 
 16 
 
362 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 present at the close of the drama ; he was perfectly 
 unmanned, and desired only to get away, leaving 
 Stamps to settle the matter as best he might. 
 
 Therefore, when the tumult was at its greatest 
 height, and he saw up the road the dust rising as of 
 a troop riding swiftly, the horrible and fearful truth 
 flashed across his mind ; he mounted the nearest horse 
 and sped swiftly away ; trees, fences, and fields were 
 passed ; they shot by him like lightning. He urged 
 the horse to the top of his speed. He strained his ears, 
 and fancied he could hear the sounds of pursuit. 
 Again he pressed his horse and left behind him his 
 foes and his fears. He was returning by the same 
 road which his pursuers came ; they had entered the 
 town by different roads, and thus he luckily avoided 
 a meeting. Again he pressed his jaded horse, and 
 away he flew. He gazed behind him, no one was in 
 sight but his steed was flagging. He listened ; there 
 were sounds of the rapid tread of horses, and the 
 voices of men. There was no doubt of it he was 
 pursued. A cold sweat broke out over his body ; he 
 clung to the mane of his horse; he ventured to turn 
 in his saddle; he could see them ; there they were, one, 
 two, three, four seven men, and riding as if for life ; 
 frantically he cheered his now nearly exhausted horse. 
 There is no way of escaping the road, was long and 
 straight, and a high fence bounded either side. He 
 gives himself up for lost, but no ! Oh ! blessed sight ; 
 the Mississippi is in view. He gazed at the waving 
 trees on the opposite shore. Never did the children 
 of Israel long to place the Eed Sea between Pharoah's 
 host and themselves and be in safety more fervently 
 than did he long to be beyond the river. He could 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 863 
 
 hear their shouts, and in the front rank was Herndon ; 
 they were nearing him. 
 
 With frenzy he pressed his horse the river bank 
 was reached his horse staggered and fell dead. It 
 was the work of a moment to leap from his back, and 
 jump into a small skiff which lay near the shore. He 
 seized an oar, and shoved it out in the stream. 
 
 As the current floated him away, -the pursuing party 
 reached the bank. 
 
 How they cursed and raved. He tried with the one 
 Dar to pull further out, but was unused to manage 
 a boat. The wind was very strong, and she shipped 
 several waves as she fell into the trough. It was 
 blowing up stream, and this made it much rougher 
 than it would have been. s 
 
 " Shoot him, before he gets too far !" said some one. 
 
 " jN"o, no I let us catch him alive," cried another. 
 
 " Eide down below, and get a skiff; he has only got 
 one oar, and can't get away," cried Herndon. 
 
 A pistol was fired at him, and the ball made music 
 close to his ears. Another pistol was fired, but the 
 bullet passed far away. 
 
 The wind now increased, and suddenly came around. 
 The veering of the wind made the waves run very 
 liigh; and 'how a new danger awaited him. He was 
 out of all fefrr of* pursuit ; but a pistol ball might strike 
 him. The worst danger now was the waves. The 
 skiff shipped more and more water. She became 
 heavy, and broke through the waves, instead of riding 
 them. He jumped up in the boat, terrified, for he 
 could not swim. With no oars to steady the boat, 
 she was at every dash of the roughened water dancing 
 like a feather, or down in a deep trough ; and every 
 
864 THE CREOLE ORPHANS. 
 
 wave which broke over her side threw more water 
 into her. She was half full. 
 
 Another pistol was fired. A yell of agony broke 
 from him ; the bullet had taken effect in his shoulder. 
 He was standing the oar was dropped the blood 
 spouted. At this moment a large wave lifted the boat 
 and dashed her in the hollow. He lost his balance 
 and fell overboard. He uttered a cry of despair as he 
 sank ; but he arose, and the water was stained with 
 blood. "With terror in his strained eye-balls, he 
 shrieked for help on shore. A laugh of derision was 
 his only answer. He tried to grasp the boat, which, 
 now lightened of his weight, danced merrily, just out 
 of his reach. Several times did he almost grasp it ; 
 but he was as often foiled. His strength gave way. 
 He turned a beseeching glance toward the shore. He 
 uttered a last scream as he sunk, and the water gurgled 
 around him. And thus he died, with the spirit of the 
 injured Ormond hanging around him, and dragging 
 him down, down, down. 
 
 We have done. The next day, the party left for 
 the rightful home of the children of the noble Ormond ; 
 and in a few weeks a happy bridal party filled the old 
 parish church. The principals were Louis and Zoe. 
 
 They took up their residence in the home of their 
 childhood. They revisited old scenes, and reveled in 
 unforgotten haunts. They passed many an hour by 
 the side of the li^le stream from the lake, where, when 
 children, they had gathered wild-flowers in spring; 
 and beneath the shade of the old trees where they 
 had reposed long, long ago ; but the voices of love 
 and affection were silenced. The old arms of the oaks 
 waved again and welcomed them ; and under their 
 
THE CREOLE ORPHANS. - 865 
 
 shadow were two green Hillocks of earth. The same 
 summer wind breathed its melancholy tones through 
 the branches, and filled the air with its leafy music, as 
 in times of yore. There were the same blue clouds 
 floating in the heavens ; and the same mocking-birds 
 trilled out their exquisite notes ; but the sweet voices 
 of parental tenderness were absent. They were not 
 there. Those tones which had filled their hearts with 
 joy were silent ; the pulses still the silver cord was 
 broken. 
 
 But enough. 
 
 Dr. Grant took up his residence with them. The 
 hopes which were buried seemed again to revive, like 
 the flowers of spring, and old feelings began to creep 
 over him. Still, sorrow had swept with a hand of 
 desolation over the strings of his soul ; and there were 
 a few cords unstrung, as if from the cold blast of the 
 North. Yet, he sat in the gallery with Louis, Zoe, 
 and Estelle ; and often Mr. Herndon came over of an 
 evening, to listen to him, with his Turkish pipe, as he 
 entertained his auditors with tales of the marvelous 
 and strange from other lands. 
 
 THE END. 
 
J. c. DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 "IT IS A LOVE TALE OF THE MOST ENTRANCING KIND," 
 
 Boston Daily Traveller. 
 
 "WHO IS THE AUTHOET WE GTJESS A LADY."-^. T. Life Ilfatrated. 
 
 ISORA'S CHILD. 
 
 1 large 12mo. volume. Price $1 25. 
 
 ' It is one of those few books of its class that we have read quite through for we found 
 it to have the requisites of a good book, namely, the power of entertaining the reader to 
 the end of the volume. The story is not complex, but is naturally told ; the characters 
 are drawn with sharp delineation and the dialogue is spirited. It is something to add, in 
 the present deluge of bad books with pleasant names, both the morals and ' the moral 1 of 
 the work are unexceptionable. It is understood to be the production of a lady whose 
 name is not unknown to the reading public ; and we congratulate her on the increase of 
 reputation which * ISORA'S CHILD ' will bring her when her present incognito shall be 
 removed." Burlington (Vt.) Sentinel. 
 
 "This book starts off with its chapter first, and introduces the reader at once to the 
 heroes arid incidents of the really charming story. lie will speedily find himself interested 
 as well by the graceful style and the skill with which the different scenes are arranged, 
 as by the beauty of the two principal characters, and the lessons of loving faith, hope, and 
 patience, which will meet him at the turning of almost every leaf. This is one of the best 
 productions of its kind that has been issued this season, and promises to meet With 
 warm approval and abundant success." Detroit Daily Democrat. 
 
 " Another anonymous novel, and a successful one. There is more boldness and origi 
 nality both in its conception and in its execution than in .almost any work of fiction we 
 have lately read. Its characters are few, well delineated, and consistently managed. 
 There ia no crowding and consequent confusion among the dramatis persona. There 
 are two heroines, however, Flora and Cora, both bewitching creatures, and, what If 
 better, noble, true-hearted women, especially the former, Isora's child the dark-eyed and 
 passionate, but sensitive, tender, and loving daughter of Italy. The work will make it> 
 mark. Who Is the author? We guess a lady, and that this is her first book." Weekly 
 Life Illustrated. 
 
 "Its incidents are novel and effectively managed; and its style possesses both earnest 
 vigor and depth of pathos, relieved by occasional flashes of a pleasing and genial humor. 
 Among the crowd of trashy publications now issued from the press, a work as true to 
 nature, and as elevated and just in its conceptions of the purposes of life, as this is, is all 
 the more welcome because it is so rare. We have no doubt it will be as popular as it U 
 interesting." Albany Evening Journal. 
 
 " We have 'seldom perused a work of fiction that gave us more real pleasure than 
 this. From first to last page, it enchains the attention, and carries your sympathies 
 along with the fortunes of the heroine. The descriptive powers of the unknown authoress 
 are of the loftiest order, and cannot fail of placing her in the first ranks of authorship.', 
 Cincinnati DaUy Sun. 
 
 " A story which perpetually keeps curiosity on the alert, and as perpetually baffles tt 
 MU it reach its d&aoftmeat, to certainly a good one." Buffalo Gomnwroial Adverttoir. 
 
J. .C. DERBY S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY PUBLICATION! 
 
 MY COURTSHIP AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 B Y UENR Y WIKOFF. 
 
 A true account of the Author's Adventures in England, Switzerland, and 
 Italy, with Miss J. C. Gamble, of Portland Place, London. 1 elegant 
 12mo. Price, in cloth, $1 25. 
 
 The extraordinary sensation produced In literary circles by Mr. Wikoff's charming 
 romance of real life, is exhausting edition after edition of his wonderful book. From 
 lengthy reviews, among several hundred received, we extract the following brief notices 
 of the press : 
 
 " We prefer commending the book as beyond question the most amusing of the season, 
 and we commend it without hesitation, because the moral is an excellent one." Albion. 
 
 " With unparalleled candor he has here unfolded the particulars of the intrigue, taking 
 the whole world into his confidence ' bearing his heart on his sleeve for daws to peck 
 at ' and, in the dearth of public amusements, presenting a piquant nine days' wonder 
 for the recreation of society." N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 " The work is very amusing, and it is written in such a vein that one cannot refrain 
 from frequent bursts of laughter, even when the Chevalier is in positions which might 
 claim one's sympathy." Boston Evening Gazette. 
 
 " A positive autobiography, by a man of acknowledged fash-ion, and an associate of 
 nobles and princes, telling truly how he courted and was coquetted by an heiress in high 
 life, is likely to be as popular a singularity in the way of literature as could well be thought 
 of." Home Journal. 
 
 " The ladies are sure to devour it. It is better and more exciting than any modern 
 romance, as it is a detail of facts, and every page proves conclusively that the plain, 
 unvarnished tale of truth is often stranger than fiction." Baltimore Dispatch. 
 
 " The book, therefore, has all the attractions of a tilt of knight-errants with this addi 
 tion, that one of the combatants is a woman a species of heart-endowed Amazon." 
 NeutwrTc Daily Mercury. 
 
 "If you read the first chapter of the volume, you are in for 'finis,' and can no more 
 Btop without the consent of your will than the train of cars can stop without the consent 
 of the engine." Worcester Pattadivm. 
 
 " Seriously, there is not so original, piquant and singular a book In American literature 
 its author is a sort of cross between Fielding, Chesterfield, and Rochefoucault." Boston 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " With the exception of Rosseau's Confessions, we do not remember ever to have heard 
 of any such self-anatomization of love and the lover." 2f. Y. Eayprest. 
 
 "The book has cost us a couple of nights' sleep; and we have no doubt it has cost ita 
 author and principal subject a good many more." N. Y. Evening Mirror. 
 
 " The work possesses all the charm and fascination of a continuous romance." JT. Y 
 Journal of Commerce, 
 
j. c. DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 "Bell's sketch^ are instinct with life, tney sparkle with l>rilliants, are gem 
 med with wit, and address themselves to almost every chord of the human 
 heart." Louisville (Ky.) Bulletin. 
 
 BEJLL SMITH ABROAD. 
 
 A Handsome 12mo. volume. Price $1 00. With Illustrations by Healy, 
 Walcutt, and Overarche. 
 
 " The readers of the Louisville Journal need uo introduction from us to Bell Smith. 
 Her own brilliant pen, and her own sparkling, witching and delightful style have so often 
 graced the columns of this paper, and have made so many friends and admirers for her, 
 that we need say but little toward creating a demand for this charming volume. But 
 some tribute is nevertheless due to Bell Smith for the real pleasure she has imparted in 
 every chapter of her book, and that tribute we cheerfully pay. Her admirable powers 
 seem so much at home in every variety and phase of life, that she touches no subject 
 Without making it sparkle with the lights of her genius." Louisville Journal. 
 
 " She is ever piquant in her remarks, and keen from observation ; and the result is 
 that her ' Abroad' is one of the most interesting collections of incident and comment, fun 
 and pathos, seriousness and gossip, which has ever fallen under our notice." Boston 
 Evening Traveller. 
 
 " It is dashing and vigorous without coarseness animated with a genial humor 
 showing acute and delicate perceptions and sustained by a bracing infusion of common 
 sense." N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 "There are many delicate strokes, and not a little of that vivacity of description 
 which entertains. The author shows her beat side when matters of home-feeling and 
 affection engage her pen." 2f. Y. Evang-dist. 
 
 " History, art and personal narrative are alike imprinted in your memory by the asso 
 ciations of anecdote, merry and grave, and you feel that you are listening to the magical 
 voice of ' Bell Smith' at home. Such volumes enrich and honor American literature." 
 Philadelphia Merchant. 
 
 " This is a capital book ; full of life, spirit, vivacity and information thoroughly lady 
 like, and telling precisely what everybody wants to hear, so far as the author knows." 
 Salem Gazette. 
 
 " Spirited and artistic ! Bell Smith sparkles, and dashes on, amusing and interesting. 
 A capital book for a leisure hour or railroad travel, or for those seasons when you want 
 to be pleased without effort." Cleveland Leader. 
 
 " We like Bell Smith and Bell Smith's book. A lively, free, dashing style, she talks 
 on, and nothing is wanting but the merry laugh we know she is owner of to make us 
 think we are listening to a very interesting woman." Chicago Journal. 
 
 "Lively, gossiping, chatting, witty, sparkling Bell Smith, we must confess your book 
 has quite enchanted us." N. Y. Day Book. 
 
 " In freshness, piquancy, and delightful episodes, illustrative of foreign life nd man- 
 wers, they have rarely been equalled." N~<ttional Era. 
 
j. . DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THK GREEN MOUNTAIN TRAVELLERS' 
 ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 BY JO SI AH BARNES, SEN. 
 12mo. $1. 
 
 " They will be read with earnest sympathy and heartfelt approval by all who enjoy 
 quiet pictures of the homely, yet often charming scenes of daily life. The style well 
 befits the thoughts expressed, and is equally simple and 'repressive. We have found in 
 these pages better than a ' traveller's entertainment 'one which will mingle with the 
 pleasant recollections of a home fireside." Providence Daily Post. 
 
 " If any of our friends wish to get hold of a book written in a style of pure and beau 
 tiful English, that reminds one of Irving continually ; a book rich with inventions of the 
 marvellous, and yet abounding in sweet humanities and delicate philosophies a book 
 that will not tire and cannot offend, let them go to a bookstore and buy ' The Old Inn ; 
 or, the Travellers' Entertainment,' by Josiah Barnes, Sen. It will pay the leader well." 
 Springfield (Mass.) Republican. 
 
 "It should be praise enough to say that the author reminds one occasionally ol 
 Irving." Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 " Unless we err greatly, a volume so markedly original in its outline and features will 
 attract a large share of attention." Boston Evening Gazette. 
 
 " This is a very pleasant book. The plan of it, if not new, is just as well carried out. 
 'Five 'r six 'r half-a-dozen ' travellers meet at an indifferent tavern in an indifferent 
 part of Vermont, upon a seriously unpleasant day, and to pass away the dull hours, they 
 fall to story-telling. The record of their performances in that behalf is made up into the 
 yolurne ' above entitled.' So agreeable became the diversion that not only the evening 
 of the first day, but as the following morning was conveniently stormy, the second day 
 U consumed in similar diversions. Those who read the book will agree with us, that a 
 stormy day and a country inn, with such alleviation, presents no very great hardship to 
 ihe traveller, unless his business is particularly urgent. We commend the book to those 
 ho like a peasant story, pleasantly told." Budget, Troy, N. T. 
 " Under the above title we have several interesting stories as told by the various cha- 
 icters at tne fireside of a comfortable, old-fashioned inn, to while away the long hours 
 a torn, by which they were detained The Little Dry Man's, the supposed Lawyer's, 
 *ud the Quaker's stories are all worth listening to. They are well told and entertain the 
 rtJider." Bangor Journal. 
 
 ' This is a serie* of stories, supposed to be related to while away the time, in an old 
 inn, where a party of travellers are storm-stayed, consisting of the ' Little Dry Man's 
 Story,' the 'Supposed Lawyer's Story,' 'Incidents of a Day at the Inn,' the 'Quaker's 
 Story,' and ' Ellen's Grave.' The stories are well told. There is a charming simplicity 
 in the author's style all the more delightful, because, now-a-days, simplicity of lan 
 guage is a rarity with authors. It is a book to take up at any moment, and occupy a 
 leisure hour to lay aside, and take tip again and again. We commend its tone, and 
 the object of the author. It is a pleasant companion on a country journey." .#. 
 Ditpatok. 
 
j c. DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 JACK DOWNING'S NEW BOOK! 
 
 WAY DOWN EAST; 
 
 OR, PORTRAITURES OF YANKEE LIFE. 
 
 BY SEE A SMITH, JSSQ. 
 Illustrated, 12mo. Price $1. 
 
 " We greet the Major, after a long interval, with profound pleasure and respect. WeJJ 
 do we remember how, years ago, we used to pore over his lucubrations on the events of 
 the time how he enlightened us by his home-views of the Legislature's doings, of the 
 Qineral's Intentions, and of the plans of ambitious Uncle Joshua. Here was the ' spot of 
 hi* origin,' and around ua were the materials from which be drew his stores of instructive 
 wit. Therefore we, of all the reading public, do the most heartily greet his reappearance. 
 We find him a little more artistic than of old, more advanced in grammar and orthography, 
 but withal displaying the same intimate knowledge of Down Eastdom, and retaining the 
 same knack of genuine Yankee humor. In fact, taking all things together, no other 
 writer begins to equal him in the delineation of the live Yankee, in the points where that 
 individual differs from all the ' rest of mankind.' This is his great merit as an author, 
 and one which the progress of manners will still further heighten for it is only in some 
 portions of our own State that the real Yankee can now be found. 
 
 " The present book has sixteen chapters devoted to home-stories. They are racy and 
 humorous to a high degree." Portland Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " It is now generally conceded that Seba Smith is the ablest, and at the same time the 
 most amusing delineator of Yankee life who has hitherto attempted that humorous style 
 of writing not excepting even Judge Haliburton himself. This is no rash expression, for 
 there is not a passage in ' Sam Slick ' so graphic, funny and and comical, but we find 
 equalled if not surpassed in the sensible and philosophic, although ludicrous epistles, of 
 ' Major Jack Downing 'epistles of which we defy the most stupid to glance at a para 
 graph without reading the whole." Philadelphia N&u>8. 
 
 " This is a book of real Yankee life, giving the particulars of character and incidents in 
 New England, from the Pilgrim fathers and their generations, Connecticut Blue Laws, and 
 the civic and religious rules, customs, Ac., from the Nutmeg State away down East, as far 
 as Mr. Jones ever thought of going. It is a very laughable affair, and every family in all 
 Yankeedom will enjoy its perusal." ZTingham (Mass.) Journal. 
 
 " There are few readers who do not desire to keep up an acquaintance with the original 
 Major Jack Downing, whose peculiar humor, while it is irresistible in its effects, is nevei 
 made subservient to immorality. But these stories are an improvement on those originally 
 given by the author, as they are illustrative of Yankee life and character in the good ok. 
 times of the Pilgrim Fathers." Christian Advocate and Journal, 
 
 41 The stories are the most humorous in the whole range of Yankee literature, full of 
 genuine wit, rare appreciation of fun, and giving an insight into human motive which 
 shows the close observation and keen relish of life, of a good-humored philosopher." 
 Saturday Evening Mail. 
 
 " A charmingly interesting book, this, for all who hail from Down East, or who like to 
 read good Kturies of home life among the Yankees." Salon Register 
 
 13 
 
j. c. DERBY'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE GEEAT DELUSION OF THE NINETEENTH CENTTTRY. 
 
 SPIRIT-RAPPING UNVKILED 1 
 
 AN EXPOSE OF THE ORIGIN, HISTORY, THEOLOGY, AND PHILOSOPHY 
 
 OF CERTAIN COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE SPIRIT WORLD, 
 
 BY MEANS OF "SPIRIT-RAPPING," "MEDIUM 
 
 WRITING," &C. 
 
 BY THE REV. H.MATISON, A. M. 
 
 With Illustrations. A new edition, with an Appendix, containing much 
 additional matter. One 12mo vol., price 75 cents. 
 
 41 This book is sufficient to make any man cry, if it did not make him laugh. And it 
 has made us laugh heartily, not the book itself, or its style, but the subject as it stands 
 divested of the miserable, but cunning accessories which charlatans have wound round 
 It. The subject is completely dissected, body and bones, if anything ' spiritual ' can be 
 said to have those human necessaries. It is strangled, torn asunder, dragged like the 
 less hideous Caliban through briars, and torn on the inquisitorial wheel of the author's 
 research, shook out like dust from a Dutchman's pipe, swept down like so much cobweb, 
 riddled like the target of a crack company, and altogether ' used up ' in fact, in the 
 words of Sir Charles Coldstream, there is * nothing in it.' The illustrations are very 
 humorous and numerous, and the printing excellent." National democrat. 
 
 " Mr. Matison attacks the subject at its advent in Rochester ; scatters the ' Fox ' aud 
 * Fish ' families to the winds with his pertinent reasoning and well-directed sarcasm; 
 marks its progress, upsetting more theories than the spirits ever did tables, and by 
 copious extracts from noted 'spiritual' publications, shows the pernicious tendencies of 
 the new philosophy,' exhibiting more deep-laid villainy than even its most inveterate 
 enemies had supposed it capable of possessing." Worcester Palladium. 
 
 " It is decidedly the best thipg we have seen on the subject. It is a book of keen logic 
 withering satire, and unanswerable facts. He has stripped to absolute nudity, this sys 
 tem of delusion and infidelity ; showing its abettors to be composed of knaveo and 
 fools ! deceivers and deceived. Let it pass round." Pittsburgh Christian Advocate. 
 
 " We can only heartily and confidently recommend it to our readers, as thoroughly 
 ' unveiling ' the latest humbug of our day, showing it up in all its nakedness and defor 
 mity, and leaving us nothing more to desire on the subject of which it treats." 2f. P. 
 Church Advocate and Journal. 
 
 "This Is a well printed volume of some 200 pages. The author is, of course, a 
 disbeliever in modern spiritualism, and the book is the result of his investigations of the 
 so-called phenomenon. It gives a history of the rise of spirit knocking, in connection 
 with the Fox family, and its progress to medium writing, table tipping, &c. The writer 
 seems to have performed the task he gave himself with considerable thoroughness and 
 great industry. We commend the book to the perusal of those who, unwilling to give up 
 common sense and the teachings of reason and philosophy, have, nevertheless, found in 
 the demonstrations of so-called Spiritualism much that they have been unable to account 
 for except upon the theory of the ' Sp : ritualists ' themselves." Troy Whig. 
 
 T3 5890 
 
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