"--these, in places, completely arcading the street--Natchitoches
has the orthodox aspect of a _rus in urbe_, or _urbs in rure_, whichever
way you wish it.

Its porticoes, entwined with parasites, here and there show stretches of
trellis, along which meander the cord-like tendrils of bignonias,
aristolochias, and orchids, the flowers of which, drooping over windows
and doorways, shut out the too garish sunlight, while filling the air
with fragrance. Among these whirr tiny humming birds, buzz humble bees
almost as big, while butterflies bigger than either lazily flout and
flap about on soft, silent wing.

Such sights greet you at every turning as you make promenade through the
streets of Natchitoches.

And there are others equally gratifying. Within these same trellised
verandahs, you may observe young girls of graceful mien, elegantly
apparelled, lounging on cane rocking-chairs, or perhaps peering coyly
through the half-closed jalousies, their eyes invariably dark brown or
coal black, the marble forehead above surmounted with a chevelure in hue
resembling the plumage of the raven. For most of these demoiselles are
descended from the old colonists of the two Latinic races; not a few
with some admixture of African, or Indian. The flaxen hair, blue eyes,
and blonde complexion of the Northland are only exceptional appearances
in the town of Natchitoches.

Meet these same young ladies in the street, it is the custom, and _comme
il faut_, to take off your hat, and make a bow. Every man who claims to
be a gentleman does this deference; while every woman, with a white
skin, expects it. On whichever side the privilege may be supposed to
lie, it is certainly denied to none. The humblest shop clerk or
artisan--even the dray-driver--may thus make obeisance to the proudest
and daintiest damsel who treads the trottoirs of Natchitoches. It gives
no right of converse, nor the slightest claim to acquaintanceship. A
mere formality of politeness; and to presume carrying it further would
not only be deemed a rudeness, but instantly, perhaps very seriously,
resented.

Such is the polished town to which the Belle of Natchez has brought
Colonel Armstrong, with his belongings, and from which he intends taking
final departure for Texas. The "Lone Star State" lies a little beyond--
the Sabine River forming the boundary line. But from earliest time of
Texan settlement on the north-eastern side, Natchitoches has been the
place of