l acquiescence, believing his recognition of it
a sweet fruition to the fair adorers. He accepts it as he does the ices,
wines and delicate French dishes familiar to his palate. Life is a
fountain of eau sucree, where everything is sweet to him, and he tries
to make it so to you, for he is a kindly-natured, true-hearted, valiant
little French gentleman. His loves, his innocent dissipations, his grand
passions, his rapier duels, would fill the volumes of a Le Sage or a
Cervantes. In the gay circles of New Orleans he floats with lambent
wings and irresistible fine eyes, its serenest butterfly, admired and
spoiled alike by the French and American element.

At this early spring season a new atom of the latter enters the charmed
circle, breaking its merry round into other sparkles of foam. A
well-formed, stately, rather florid gentleman alights at the St.
Charles, and is ushered into the hospitalities of that elegant
caravansary. There is something impressive about him, or there would be
farther North. He is American, from the strong, careless Anglo-Saxon
face, through all the stalwart bones and full figure, to the strong,
firm, light step. He will crush through the lepidoptera of this
half-French society like a silver knife through _Tourtereaux souffles a
la creme_. He brings letters to this and that citizen, or he is well
known already, and "coloneled" familiarly by stamp-expectant waiters and
the courteous master of ceremonies at the clerk's desk. He calls, on his
bankers, and is received with gracious familiarity in the pleasant
bank-parlor. Correspondence has made them acquainted with Colonel
Beverage in the way of business: they are glad to see him in person, and
will be happy to wait on him. He makes them happy in that way, for they
do wait upon him satisfactorily. There is a little pleasant interchange
of news and city gossip, and of something else. There is a crinkling of
a certain crispy, green foliage, and the colonel withdraws in the midst
of civilities.

He next appears on Canal street, by and beyond the Clay Monument, with
occasional pauses at clothiers', and buys his shirts at Moody's, as he
has probably often sworn not to do, because of its annoyingly frequent
posters everywhere. He enters jewelers' shops and examines
trinkets--serpents with ruby eyes curled in gold on beds of golden
leaves with emerald dews upon them; pearls, pear-shaped and tearlike,
brought up by swart, glittering divers, seven fathom dee