ds his scarlet wings amidst the spray of the lower
shrubbery.

Now and then I catch a glimpse of the "ruby-throat," coming and going
like the sparkle of a gem. Its favourite haunt is among the red and
scentless flowers of the buck-eye, or the large trumpet-shaped blossoms
of the _bignonia_.

Such was the view from the window of my chamber. I thought I never
beheld so fair a scene. Perhaps I was not looking upon it with an
impartial eye. The love-light was in my glance, and that may have
imparted to it a portion of its _couleur de rose_. I could not look
upon the scene without thinking of that fair being, whose presence alone
was wanted to make the picture perfect.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

MY JOURNAL.

I varied the monotony of my invalid existence by keeping a journal.

The journal of a sick chamber must naturally be barren of incident.
Mine was a diary of reflections rather than acts. I transcribe a few
passages from it--not on account of any remarkable interest which they
possess--but because, dotted down at the time, they represent more
faithfully some of the thoughts and incidents that occurred to me during
the remainder of my stay on the plantation Besancon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_July 12th_.--To-day I am able to sit up and write a little. The
weather is intensely hot. It would be intolerable were it not for the
breeze which sweeps across my apartment, charged with the delicious
perfume of the flowers. This breeze blows from the Gulf of Mexico, by
Lakes Borgne, Pontchartrain, and Maauepas. I am more than one hundred
miles from the Gulf itself--that is, following the direction of the
river--but these great inland seas deeply penetrate the delta of the
Mississippi, and through them the tidal wave approaches within a few
miles of New Orleans, and still farther to the north. Sea-water might
be reached through the swamps at a short distance to the rear of
Bringiers.

This sea-breeze is a great benefit to the inhabitants of Lower
Louisiana. Without its cooling influence New Orleans during the summer
months would hardly be habitable.

Scipio tells me that a new "overseer" has arrived on the plantation, and
thinks that he has been appointed through the agency of Mass'r Dominick.
He brought a letter from the _avocat_. It is therefore probable
enough.

My attendant does not seem very favourably impressed with the new comer,
whom he represents as a "