ese propositions were accompanied by a threat to have her
turned out of the house and exiled from New Orleans. With a spirit
worthy of a Southern woman, she indignantly spurned his base offers
and ordered him never to place his feet across the threshold of her
house, at the same time defying to do his worse. He left her,
declaring that she should be turned out of the city, and a few days
after, in proof of his threat, an order was presented to her, signed
by General Butler, commanding her to leave the city.

Her faithful slave, Elsy, shed bitter tears on hearing that her kind
mistress would have to leave New Orleans, and declared that she would
not remain in the city, but would follow her.

"But they will not let you go with me, Elsy," said Mrs. Wentworth.
"You are free now, they say, to do as you like--you are no longer
belonging to me."

"I ain't a gwine to stay here, missis," replied the negro, "for any
money in dis world, and if dey wont let me go out wid you, I will come
arter you by myself."

"Well, Elsy," said Mrs. Wentworth, "I do not force you to leave New
Orleans, but should you get out, come to me at Jackson. You are a good
girl, and I shall not forget your fidelity."

"I'll be dere, shure," said the negro, quite pleased at the permission
to follow her mistress if she could.

Mrs. Wentworth immediately set to work packing up a few necessaries,
and with the small amount of money she had left awaited the next
morning, when she would start for Pass Manchac.

On the following morning she proceeded to the boat, amid the cries and
lamentations of the faithful Elsy, and with throbbing heart and many
sighs gazed on her loved city until it had receded from her view.

On arriving at the "Pass" she was about to step from the boat, when a
hand was laid upon her shoulder, and looking round she observed Mr.
Awtry, dressed in the full uniform of a Yankee captain, standing by
her.

"Are you determined to leave home," he said, "and all its pleasures;
and starve in the rebel lines? Why not accept my offer and lead a life
of ease and affluence. Your husband shall never know of our
connection, and thus you will be spared many a weary day and night
working for bread to feed your children."

She looked at him for a moment with all that withering scorn and
indignation which outraged virtue and innocence can assume, and then
said: "Leave me! Go to the land from whence you came and make such
offers to the women there, bu