s, meet my gaze. Among the
former I behold the "catalpa," with its silvery bark and trumpet-shaped
blossoms; the "Osage orange," with its dark shining leaves; and the red
mulberry, with thick shady foliage, and long crimson calkin-like fruits.
Of exotics I note the orange, the lime, the West Indian guava (_Psidium
pyriferum_), and the guava of Florida, with its boxwood leaves; the
tamarisk, with its spreading minute foliage, and splendid panicles of
pale rose-coloured flowers; the pomegranate, symbol of democracy--"the
queen who carries her crown upon her bosom"--and the legendary but
flowerless fig-tree, here not supported against the wall, but rising as
a standard to the height of thirty feet.

Scarcely exotic are the _yuccas_, with their spherical heads of sharp
radiating blades; scarcely exotic the _cactacea_, of varied forms--for
species of both are indigenous to the soil, and both are found among the
flora of a not far-distant region.

The scene before my window is not one of still life. Over the shrubbery
I can see the white-painted gates leading to the mansion, and outside of
these runs the Levee road. Although the foliage hinders me from a full
view of the road itself, I see at intervals the people passing along it.
In the dress of the Creoles the sky-blue colour predominates, and the
hats are usually palmetto, or "grass," or the costlier Panama, with
broad sun-protecting brims. Now and then a negro gallops past, turbaned
like a Turk; for the chequered Madras "toque" has much the appearance of
the Turkish head-dress, but is lighter and even more picturesque. Now
and then an open carriage rolls by, and I catch a glimpse of ladies in
their gossamer summer-dresses. I hear their clear ringing laughter; and
I know they are on their way to some gay festive scene. The travellers
upon the road--the labourers in the distant cane-field, chanting their
chorus songs--occasionally a boat booming past on the river--more
frequently a flat silently floating downward--a "keel," or a raft with
its red-shirted crew--are all before my eyes, emblems of active life.

Nearer still are the winged creatures that live and move around my
window. The mock-bird (_Turdus polyglotta_) pipes from the top of the
tallest magnolia; and his cousin, the red-breast (_Turdus migratorius_),
half intoxicated with the berries of the _melia_, rivals him in his
sweet song. The oriole hops among the orange-trees, and the bold red
cardinal sprea