ut confess the whole thing was delicious.

"Yo humble servan', seh," responded the smiling Creole, with a flattered
bow. Then, assuming a gravity becoming the historian, he said:--

"In fact, 'tis a gweat mistake, that statement that Lawd By'on evva
qua'led with his lady, Mistoo Itchlin. But I s'pose you know 'tis but a
slandeh of the pwess. Yesseh. As, faw instance, thass anotheh slandeh of
the pwess that the delegates qua'led ad the Chawleston convention.
They only pwetend to qua'l; so, by that way, to mizguide those
A_bol_ish-nists. Mistoo Itchlin, I am p'ojecting to 'ite some obitua'
'emawks about that Lady By'on, but I scass know w'etheh to 'ite them in
the poetic style aw in the p'osaic. Which would you conclude, Mistoo
Itchlin?"

Richling reflected with downcast eyes.

"It seems to me," he said, when he had passed his hand across his mouth
in apparent meditation and looked up,--"seems to me I'd conclude both,
without delay."

"Yes? But accawding to what fawmule, Mistoo Itchlin? 'Ay, 'tis theh is
the 'ub,' in fact, as Lawd By'on say. Is it to migs the two style' that
you advise?"

"That's the favorite method," replied Richling.

"Well, I dunno 'ow 'tis, Mistoo Itchlin, but I fine the moze facil'ty in
the poetic. 'Tis t'ue, in the poetic you got to look out concehning the
_'ime_. You got to keep the eye skin' faw it, in fact. But in the
p'osaic, on the cont'a-ay, 'tis juz the opposite; you got to keep
the eye skin' faw the _sense_. Yesseh. Now, if you migs the two
style'--well--'ow's that, Mistoo Itchlin, if you migs them? Seem' to
me I dunno."

"Why, don't you see?" asked Richling. "If you mix them, you avoid both
necessities. You sail triumphantly between Scylla and Charybdis without
so much as skinning your eye."

Narcisse looked at him a moment with a slightly searching glance,
dropped his eyes upon his own beautiful feet, and said, in a meditative
tone:--

"I believe you co'ect." But his smile was gone, and Richling saw he had
ventured too far.

"I wish my wife were here," said Richling; "she might give you better
advice than I."

"Yes," replied Narcisse, "I believe you co'ect ag'in, Mistoo Itchlin.
'Tis but since yeste'd'y that I jus appen to hea' Dr. Seveeah d'op a
saying 'esembling to that. Yesseh, she's a v'ey 'emawkable, Mistoo
Itchlin."

"Is that what Dr. Sevier said?" Richling began to fear an ambush.

"No, seh. What the Doctah say--'twas me'ly to 'emawk in his jocose
way--you know t