tain ran a walk, paved with a mosaic
of pebbles, laid in various fanciful patterns; and this, again, was
surrounded by turf, smooth as green velvet, while a carriage-drive
enclosed the whole. Two large orange-trees, now fragrant with blossoms,
threw a delicious shade; and, ranged in a circle round upon the turf,
were marble vases of arabesque sculpture, containing the choicest
flowering plants of the tropics. Huge pomegranate trees, with their
glossy leaves and flame-colored flowers, dark-leaved Arabian jessamines,
with their silvery stars, geraniums, luxuriant roses bending beneath
their heavy abundance of flowers, golden jessamines, lemon-scented
verbenum, all united their bloom and fragrance, while here and there a
mystic old aloe, with its strange, massive leaves, sat looking like some
old enchanter, sitting in weird grandeur among the more perishable bloom
and fragrance around it.

The galleries that surrounded the court were festooned with a curtain
of some kind of Moorish stuff, and could be drawn down at pleasure, to
exclude the beams of the sun. On the whole, the appearance of the place
was luxurious and romantic.

As the carriage drove in, Eva seemed like a bird ready to burst from a
cage, with the wild eagerness of her delight.

"O, isn't it beautiful, lovely! my own dear, darling home!" she said to
Miss Ophelia. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"'T is a pretty place," said Miss Ophelia, as she alighted; "though it
looks rather old and heathenish to me."

Tom got down from the carriage, and looked about with an air of calm,
still enjoyment. The negro, it must be remembered, is an exotic of the
most gorgeous and superb countries of the world, and he has, deep in his
heart, a passion for all that is splendid, rich, and fanciful; a passion
which, rudely indulged by an untrained taste, draws on them the ridicule
of the colder and more correct white race.

St. Clare, who was in heart a poetical voluptuary, smiled as Miss
Ophelia made her remark on his premises, and, turning to Tom, who was
standing looking round, his beaming black face perfectly radiant with
admiration, he said,

"Tom, my boy, this seems to suit you."

"Yes, Mas'r, it looks about the right thing," said Tom.

All this passed in a moment, while trunks were being hustled off,
hackman paid, and while a crowd, of all ages and sizes,--men, women, and
children,--came running through the galleries, both above and below
to see Mas'r come in. Foremost amon