Cbe JLiftrarp 
 
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 Qnitier^itp of jfi3ort6 Carolina 
 
 (KnDototi bp ^^e SDialtttit 
 
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 P5iIant6ropic Societies 
 
 813 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CI\ IL WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
/ 
 
 PANOLA. 
 
 A TALE OF LOCISIAM. 
 
 BY MRS. SARAH A. DORSET. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "AGNES GRAHAM," "ATHALIE," "LUCIA DARE." 
 
 ''A seaside house to tJie farther South, 
 Where the baked cicalas die of drouth. 
 
 And one sharp tree— 'tis a cypress— stands 
 By the many hundred years red-rusted. 
 Rough, iron-spiked, ripe fruit d er-crusted— 
 My sentinel to guard the sands 
 To the -water's edge. 
 * * * * * 
 
 While in the house forever crumbles 
 Some fragment of the frescoed walls 
 From blisters -where a scorpion sprawls— 
 A girl barefooted brings, and tu7iibles 
 
 Down on the pavement, green flesh melons." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 T. B. PETERSO]Sr & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STIIEET. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 MRS. SARAH A. DORSET'S WORKS. 
 
 Each Work is complete in one large Volame. 
 
 PANOLA. A Tale of Loiuskina. By Mrs. Saeaii A. DoRSEY. 
 Que volume, duodecimo, cloth, black uud gold, price tl.oU. 
 
 Read the following notice of " Panola," tvriffen by Dr. Mackenzif, Literary 
 Editor of Forney^ s Daily Press, wfio read the work in manuscript. 
 
 "Panola," a Tale of Louisiana, U from tlie pen of Mi-s. Sarah A. Doi-scy, a 
 talented and highly educated lady, distinguished in biography and romance. 
 The story is very peculiar, and strikingly original, in its philosophy, its indi- 
 viduality of characters, and the successive steps in the narrative by which the 
 action culminates in a verj' striking and most unexpected, though highly sat- 
 isfactory conclusion. Life in the south-western part of Louisiana is repre- 
 sented with a brilliancy of description which, indeed, is word-painting of the 
 most artistical order. The dialogue really advances the action, (which dia- 
 logue too often fails to do,) and in the few lettei-s that are introduced, the 
 rf)-a/Ha<ts/)e>->o?iff respectively give their views of society. Although Panola, 
 a bright and lovel.v child of genius, who is a natural musician, is the principal 
 heroine — a veritable prima donna in more ways than one — there is a rival, 
 scarcely less beautiful if somewhat less excellent. There are two lovers, to 
 maintain the balance — but the best of these has unfortunately lost the use of 
 his limbs — like the young King of the Black Islands, of the Arabian tale, who 
 was half man and half marble. Under such circumstances, this gentleman 
 would scarcely have his name written, by a fashionable niuther, on the list of 
 "eligible" candidates for her fair daughter's baud! Nevertheless, he does 
 contrive to marry the '' ladye of his love," to the perfect satisfaction of both, 
 tboiigh the preliminary miracle which enabled this to be done is to be fuund 
 only in the closing chapters of the story. Panola has Cherokee blood in her 
 veius, and some of her race prove, in this storj-, that they indeed are " Children 
 of the Sun with whum Revenue is virtue." The book abounds in interest — ■ 
 marriage, divorce, a great musician's debw' and triumph, the alternations of 
 various and conflicting passions — death by poison, and the already hinted pun- 
 ishment of the criminal. Twj very interesting chanicters are an old French 
 Doctor of medicine and a German naturalist. As the " universal dollar" 
 manages to work itself into evei-y thing below, we may hint that a trifle of 
 over three millions is a bequest in the vei-y first chapter. 
 
 AGNES GRAHAM. A Novel. By Mrs. Sarah A. Doksey. 
 One volume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Cents. 
 
 ATHALIE. "A Winter's Tale." By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. 
 One volume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Cents. 
 
 LUCIA DARE. A Novel. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. One 
 volume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Cents. 
 
 ^/^^ Above books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 
 
 ^^" Copies of any one or all of the above books will be sent to 
 any one, to any plac-e, postage prejxiid, or free of freight, on 
 remitting the price of the ones wanted, to the publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 
 
 306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
TO A MAN WHOSE RARE FIDELITT IN FRTENDSIIIP IS A THEME 
 OF ADMIRATION FOR ALL WHO KNOW HIM. 
 
 TO 
 
 COLOKEL JOHN M. SANDIDGE, 
 
 OI" X,0"U"ISI-A.Isr-A., 
 
 THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED BY ONE WHO IS GLAD TO WRITE 
 HERSELF AMONG THE NUMBER OF HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Elkridge, Tensas Parish, 
 August 2.0th, i877. 
 
 r 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 . <-»»»> 
 
 CHAPTER *'*°* 
 
 I. — IX THE ATTAK APAS 25 
 
 II, — THE HEROINE ^^ 
 
 III.— A FAMILY GROUP ^1 
 
 lY. — ACTED CHARADES "^^ 
 
 v.— NATIKA JACQUmiN 87 
 
 VI.— CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS 93 
 
 VII.— MUCH-MARRIED LIZBETTE 11*3 
 
 VIII.— A GER3IAN NATURALIST 1-5 
 
 IX.— MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR 137 
 
 X.— A A'ERY W03IAN 1-^^ 
 
 XI.— COUSINS' GOSSIP l-t'3 
 
 Xn.— CHICORA'S FAWN 1'50 
 
 XIII.— A sage's PHILOSOPHY lo-t 
 
 3^jy,__THE ASTRONOMICAL CALCULATION 1-37 
 
 XV. — THE STORY OF ODIN 10:2 
 
 XVI.— LOVE AVILL RULE 1G6 
 
 XVII.— HOT SPRINGS OF ARKANSAS 172 
 
 XVIII.— IN THE DARK HOURS 1'5 
 
 (21) 
 
22 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX.— MARRIED IN HASTE ISO 
 
 XX.— PASSING AWAY 191 
 
 XXI.— CHICORA'S DEATH 195 
 
 XXII.— THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE 204 
 
 XXIII. — MADAME BOLLING'S FLOWERS 212 
 
 XXIV. — A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE 215 
 
 XXV. — A SEVENTEENTH CENTURY POISON 223 
 
 XXVI.— TRAGIC RETRIBUTION 22S 
 
 XXVII.— PANOLA IN PARIS 235 
 
 XXVIII. — VICTOR'S DEATH 249 
 
 XXIX. — love's MIRACLE 252 
 
 XXX.— THE CHEROKEE CHIEF 256 
 
"A seaside Jiouse to the farther South, 
 Where the baked cicalas die of drouth, 
 
 And one sharp tree— 'tis a cypress— stands 
 By the many hundred years red-rusted. 
 Hough, iron-spiked, ripe fruit o'er-crusted— 
 My sentinel to guard the sands 
 To the ivater's edge. 
 
 * 
 
 , .1 '» 
 
 While in the house forever crumbles 
 Some fragment of the frescoed icalls 
 From blisters lohere a scorpion sprawls— 
 
 A girl bare-footed brings, and tumbles 
 Down on the pavement, green jiesh melons. 
 
 Browning. 
 
 "We are the sum of our ancestors— plus— ourselves." 
 
 Anjje Seemuller. 
 
pa:n^ola. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IX THE ATTAKAPAS. 
 
 THE day was beautiful. The sunshine of May 
 poured all over and, it seemed, all through the 
 very earth, in the country of " The Attakapas." The 
 yellow jasmine flung its garlands of golden, per- 
 fumed chalices around the very tops of the tallest 
 forest trees, mino^lino^ its flowers with the streamers 
 of venerable gray Spanish moss (Tillandsia), Avhich 
 draped the huge branches, and which waved with 
 silvery, undulating gleams in the breezy sunshine. 
 The Cherokee rose flaunted its long pennons of 
 great white flowers and small, dark, glistering leaves 
 over miles and miles of hedge rows. The red-bud 
 (Judas tree) was set thickly in spikes of blooms, 
 the white locust hung its cornucopice of honey- 
 smelling papilionaceous blossoms high above the 
 hu^re rose hedges, and its blossoms were filled with 
 
 (25) 
 
j 
 
 26 PANOLA. 
 
 myriads of busy humming bees. As for butterflies, 
 who could number them? 
 
 There were every sort of the day butterflies, who 
 have knobs at the end of their antennae ; the asterias, 
 and the yellow philodice, and the beautiful deiopeise ; 
 the phoetou and the vauessas ; the admiral, the this- 
 tle, and the golden C. vanessas ; the troilus, the 
 philenor, the Danaus, and the idalias — all the 
 aristocratic idlers, who, clothed with silver and gold 
 and purple, ornamented with ever-varying splendor, 
 have naught to do but to seek their own pleasure 
 and spend their life of a summer day in fluttering 
 from bough to bough, satiating themselves with 
 sweetest nectar. 
 
 The butterflies had a pretty good time of it if 
 they escaped the beaks of the mocking-birds, during 
 the caterpillar period ; it was rare that the birds 
 attacked the full-grown insect, though sometimes 
 one might see the very poetry of the chase in a 
 mocking-bird's pursuit after a fluttering yellow 
 colias, which it alwavs cau2:ht and flew away with, 
 bearing it off with the golden wings quivering at 
 the end of its curved bill. It was pretty to see, 
 though sad for the insect, of course. 
 
 The ground was carpeted on the wide prairies 
 with acres and acres of precious little Houstonias, the 
 ^^ Child's DeligJit/' as the Southern people call them, 
 more poetically than the wise botanists. The mock- 
 in o;-bird3 were sinojins: their very maddest bursts of 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 27 
 
 delirious music. Spriug-life is strong in this semi- 
 tropical land ! Cardinal birds, in brilliant groups 
 of carmine, pecking the bright green grass, oc- 
 casionally stopped to sing their little song of 
 " Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie." Blue-birds flitted 
 about, like bits shed out of the azure sky. Whole 
 flocks of lovely little swamp warblers, green and 
 gold, red and yellow, blue and brown, of every tint 
 and changeful sheen of color, would suddenly drop 
 upon the emerald herbage (like a cloud of flakes 
 from a broken rainbow), hop, twitter, then fly up 
 and disappear in the sun-lighted air as quickly as 
 they had come. Humming-birds beat their wings, 
 vibrating from umbel to umbel of the scarlet 
 Yecoma trumpets, and the lilac bunches of the China 
 tree (Melia Azadarach) were the chosen haunts of 
 the tiny mango colibri. Turtle-doves sang softly 
 and mournfully their invitation to their mates, 
 " Come into the woods ! Come into the woods ! ^' 
 The fig trees were pushing young, green leaflets. 
 Grape vines, in flower, pulsated pufis of incense on 
 the warm air. Orange trees, in stately rows, were 
 showering cream-white petals down upon the wide 
 sheets of cotton cloth, that Lizbette had spread so 
 carefully under their boughs in order to catch cast- 
 off corollas; for Lizbette was a skilful compounder 
 of all sorts of orange syrups and citron confections. 
 "Was she not a " cordon bleu," " nata " as well as 
 '^ fit " amons: Creole cooks? "Whose oransce-flower 
 
28 PANOLA. 
 
 water was better and more soothing to weak nerves, 
 or better known than hers? Who understood as 
 she did the manufacture of the delicate Pralines 
 of the stowed orange-petals, after the syrup had been 
 perfected? Whose liqueur of the passion flowers 
 was clearer and stronger than hers? Surely for 
 these things" Lizbette was widely famed throughout 
 the whole of the Attakapas. 
 
 It was Docteur Canonge's house. " Le Docteur 
 Renee Canonge.'^ So the people called him in the 
 Attakapas. In France, when people spoke of him 
 — and people did speak of him there sometimes, in 
 the scientific academies and such-like places — he was 
 called " Monsieur le Marquis de Canonge, et de 
 Rocheterre.'^ 
 
 Lizbette never forgot this fact, if other people 
 did. Why should she? Was she not the chief 
 " cuisinih'e,^' the cook of the family, and in her own 
 opinion the chief governor of the whole establish- 
 ment? And did she not reflect all its dignity? 
 Ah, bah ! Lizbette snapped her fingers in the faces 
 of cooks of roturiers, and such-like vulgar persons. 
 She ahvavs wore a £rav-colored bandana kerchief 
 tied high, like a helmet, svith an outflying plaited 
 shell of starched ends over each ear. Ko one but 
 Lizbette could solve the mystery of the plaiting of 
 that handkerchief! It could only be fashioned by 
 a Louisiana quadroon ! 
 
 Immediately about the house there was a trim 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 29 
 
 flower-garden enclosed by a thick hedge of the Laii- 
 rierd'amande, cut into a square, low wall of verdure. 
 Inside of this garden there were grotesque chairs, 
 and flat tables, and umbrollas, and pyramids and 
 cubes and griffins cut out of the same plants, whose 
 glossy leaves are so readily clipped and trained into 
 any fantastic form. This parterre was somewhat 
 formal, but it was queer and pretty and so very 
 French, that it Avas pleasant to look at. It had 
 character. 
 
 U esprit Gaulois was stamped on every line of it. 
 It had all the old-fashioned favorite French flowers 
 in its funny little beds; each bed was carefully 
 bordered with red bricks, and inside of the bricks 
 grew, around each bed, a row of double violets, 
 now all blossoming and very fragrant. There were 
 lots of mignonette, and of carnations, of clove pinks 
 and pansies; also bunches of fleur d' lis in the 
 corners. Lizbette used to make calamus of the 
 sweet flag-roots, and she used the violets and rose 
 leaves for tisane. She also used the lavender and 
 verbena grasses among her linen ; and of the fennel 
 and grape leaves she used many to green her 
 pickles. Marigolds and sweet bay and rosemary 
 served for seasoning soups ; and of the glorious lilies, 
 the candidum, which reverent painters put into the 
 Virgin's hands, Lizbette made a fine healing salve 
 for cuts and burns. So it was for that they grew, 
 Lizbette believed. "What did she care for their 
 
30 PANOLA. 
 
 beauty ? Lizbette was eminently practical in all her 
 ideas ! 
 
 The garden walks were cemented with yellow 
 plaster, and there were numbers of very ugly 
 earthenware vases filled with verbenas and gay 
 petunias ; and some curiously moulded and much 
 dilapidated plaster statues w^re planted and scat- 
 tered about in secluded nooks, as well as at intervals 
 along the garden walks. They were originally in- 
 tended to increase the general efiPect of " Watteau- 
 happy-shepherdistic existence." They were now 
 either fantastically ludicrous, or mournfully sug- 
 gestive, as one happened to be in the humor of 
 either laughing or moralizing. These mutilated 
 statues and vases were all elevated on low pedestals 
 of brick and mason work, off which the stucco had 
 crumbled long ago, and it had never been renewed. 
 So they presented rather a spotty appearance, except 
 in the vases, where the luxuriance of the growing 
 vines helped to conceal these ravages of time ; for 
 sometimes they overflowed the vases and clambered 
 down their sides and along the pedestals down to 
 the very earth, where they took root and flourished 
 vigorously. Things do grow so fast in Louisiana. 
 Docteur Canonge's old gardener could never keep 
 up with them, no matter how industriously he 
 labored. He had to rest a good deal in the course 
 of the day ; there were pipes to be smoked full of 
 good perrique, and there was also a siesta to be taken 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 31 
 
 every afternoon. Therefore vines and weeds did 
 grow rather as they chose in this garden. It was 
 all the nicer for that. 
 
 The house itself was shadowed by its long, )vide 
 verandahs. It was a low, one-storied building. It 
 was painted outside of a brick-dust red — the red of 
 Titian, which is prettier on the mantle of the " Bella 
 donna" than it was on DocteurCanonge's house — and 
 it had solid green blinds, hung with white facings to 
 the numerous doors and windows cut down to the 
 verandah floors. Fortunately the paint was old, so 
 Nature, with her gradating fingers, had toned it 
 down comfortably from its original brilliant hues, 
 with fine black weather stains, and lovely spottings 
 of good wholesome dark chocolate -brown earth 
 color. 
 
 It looked very well now, amidst its vast setting 
 of yellowish, green prairie, and dome of blue sky. 
 
 Amidst all the other birds, the mocking-birds 
 reigned supremely over this garden. They fought 
 and mocked all the other birds, and they ate the 
 butterflies and the caterpillars, and pecked the fruit, 
 especially the ripest figs and the sunniest side of the 
 peaches. They devoured as many scuppernong 
 grapes as they chose, and always ate up the earliest 
 peas and strawberries. The gardener complained 
 and Lizbette quarrelled, but Docteur Canonge said 
 the mocking-birds were not to be touched or fright- 
 ened by any one whilst they lived upon his premises. 
 
32 PANOLA. 
 
 "So," LIzbette said, with a shrug of her shoulders, 
 " the foot of the docteur was put down in regard to 
 those birds." It was more than Lizbette dared to 
 do, to disturb a nest, even though an aggravating 
 pair had built in the orange tree over her own cham- 
 ber window, and often kept her awake half the 
 moonlight nights, singing and imitating the very 
 cries and duckings even of her own chickens, and 
 anything else they took a fancy to mock. Ah ! it 
 was indeed exasperating; but then, the docteur's 
 foot was down, and it had to be borne with such 
 patience as a Creole cook could gather together. 
 
 This very morning, Lizbette had seen Natika 
 Jacquimin, the old docteur's granddaughter, now 
 on a visit to him, leaning on the balustrade of the 
 verandah for a whole half-hour, extremely amused 
 in watching the birds' antics. It was a triumph to 
 keep Natika intei'ested so long a time as that ; but 
 the feathered songsters were unconscious of their 
 glory ; they were dancing together, turning somer- 
 saults in the air, singing away like little possessed 
 demons, unmindful of the beautiful girl who was 
 patiently watching their pranks. 
 
 "Chee-chee," said Lizbette, "always a cheeing 
 and a screeching, and a dancing like mad ; and good 
 for nuthin ' ; not even fit for a pie, which doves is, 
 and even yellow-hammers ain't bad for a broil ! " 
 
 Natika had been laughing heartily, and she called 
 aloud to her two cousins, who were sitting quietly 
 
IN TUE ATTAKAPAS. 33 
 
 inside of the study, to look out at the birds. There 
 was a young bird who seemed to be taking his first 
 sincrino; lessons. He had been attracted bv the soft, 
 sweet cry of a partridge, and he was trying to imitate 
 it. He did not succeed well. An, older bird, who 
 was sitting on top of the head of a broken-nosed 
 plaster Apollo, attempted to put the little bird right 
 in the siuo-ine^: the wilful little bird either couldn't 
 or wouldn't follow the notes accurately. Another 
 bird, balancing himself on an orange bough, quiver- 
 ins; his wing's and vibratins; his tail fan-fashion, 
 sending down at every trill a rain of spent blossoms 
 upon Lizbette's sheets, was singing very heroically, 
 loudly mocking the clear bell-like call of the troop- 
 iall ; it had come across some stray wanderer from 
 the tropics, blown over from some of the islands in 
 the Gulf of Mexico, by an unexpected " ouragan," 
 and, as is the fashion of its tribe, it had picked up 
 the sin ovular foreio:n notes. 
 
 The partridge sang '^ Bob white " in a long 
 modulation ; the little bird would snatch up the cry, 
 " Bob, bob, bob ; white, white, bob." 
 
 " Xo, no," the older bird sung from the Apollo's 
 head ; " this way: bob white, bob white." 
 
 " AVhy-et, vrhy-et, bob, bob," would answer the 
 small bird on the garden walk. Again and again 
 the older bird would sing the strain. 
 
 The little bird, turning its head first on one side 
 and then on the other, would listen carefully and 
 2 
 
o 
 
 4 PANOLA. 
 
 make ineffectual efforts to utter the right cadence ; 
 but at last, seeming to grow weary of its abortive 
 efforts, and impatient of its lesson, it flew off on to a 
 Laurier d'amaude bush, and standing up on its tip-toes, 
 with its wings outspread, and its head and tail tossed 
 upwards, it sung vehemently after its own fashion : 
 " Bob, bob ; why-et, why-et ; sweetie, sweetie, chee, 
 chee; come to the wood; come, come, bob;" then, 
 trilling on every syllable, it seemed to play on the 
 notes with au appoggiatura before each word, as if to 
 say, " how are ye^ bob? how are ye, why-et?'' then, 
 suddenly seizins: the easier strain, it closed its musical 
 phrase with the three clear, pure bell -notes "of the 
 troopiall. It had its own notion of rendering music. 
 Katika laughed and clapped her hands lightly. 
 ^^ Bravo ! bravo ! you naughty, funny little bird ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 Her cousins, Victor Burthe and Mark Boiling, 
 smiled at her eagerness. 
 
 The cousins had been sitting; tosiether in the 
 study, whose tall windows were widely opened down 
 to the verandah. Natika stepped back into the 
 room. Mark Boiling was reading a letter which a 
 servant had just brought in to him, he said, by 
 order of his grandfather, Docteur Canonge. Mark's 
 face changed from its smile as he read the letter 
 through carefully; then, turning it again, re-read 
 the first page. He then handed it to Victor, saying, 
 q^uietly : 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 35 
 
 " Uncle Jacob is dead in Xew York. This letter 
 concerns you both, as well as myself." 
 
 It was a large letter, and it contained an enclos- 
 ure written on foolscap, very closely covering all 
 four sides of the sheet. Mark now set himself to 
 read the enclosed foolscap. 
 
 "Victor held the letter, and Xatika, leaning over 
 his shoulder, read it at the same time that he did. 
 Victor gave utterance to a low whistle of surprise 
 and seeming vexation as he laid the letter down, 
 which ran as follows : 
 
 "Xew Orleans, 18 — . 
 
 " Mr. Mark Bollixg : Sir : — We have been re- 
 quested by the trustees appointed in the last will 
 and testament of your late uncle, JNlr. Jacob 
 Canonge, to write to you, and to enclose a certified 
 copy of said will and testament of said Jacob 
 Canonge. Said will is a holograph instrument, 
 and is perfect according to law of Louisiana, being 
 written, signed and sealed by said testator. It has 
 been duly recorded by said trustees, and the succes- 
 sion is now duly opened according to law. The 
 said will is somewhat peculiar in its terms and 
 conditions of bequest, which, of course, we regret ; 
 but, although the said late Jacob Canonge was re- 
 garded as rather eccentric in character, his sound 
 health and sanity were never questioned, and he 
 was considered to be singularly shrewd in all prac- 
 tical business matters. His physicians — the Doc- 
 
36 PANOLA. 
 
 tors Stone and Itoussel — testify to his admirable 
 soundness of mind up to the very last moments of 
 existence. The injunctions of the will, therefore, 
 must be fully obeyed. The trustees — Messrs. 
 Adams, James and Slocumb — unite with us in 
 hoping that you may soon be restored to the health 
 and happy condition of life, which said will de- 
 mands of you before they can resign to you the con- 
 trol of the vast wealth, designed for your inherit- 
 ance by your late uncle, said late Jacob Canonge. 
 Together with this, please find notices to the other 
 heirs — ]\Ir. Victor Burthe and Miss Natika Jac- 
 quimin — of their unconditioned bequests from their 
 late uncle, said late Jacob Canonge, which bequests 
 are in the sum of one hundred thousand dollars 
 each, said money being now on deposit in the Canal 
 Bank of New Orleans, subject to their order at sight. 
 Please also find list and vouchers of said divers 
 moneys, bequeathed conditionally to you by said late 
 Jacob Canonge — said moneys amounting, as shown 
 and exhibited by said vouchers, to the sum of three 
 millions five hundred thousand and forty-five dol- 
 lars and fifty-five cents, which is already well and 
 sufficiently invested by said late Jacob Canonge, as 
 shown by said vouchers. All to be subject to your 
 order under certain conditions, as set forth in said 
 last will and testament of said late Jacob Canonge. 
 " You will be so good as to notify us where and 
 when you desire to be deposited the annual pay- 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 37 
 
 meDts of the sum of three huDdred dollars, always 
 payable iu gold, the amount specified as a temporary 
 provision for you uutil the aforesaid conditions be 
 filled as demanded by said last will and testament 
 of said late Jacob Cauouge. It is now subject to 
 your order. 
 
 '' With profound respect, we have the honor to 
 subscribe ourselves your most obedient servants, 
 *' Bradford and Bradford, 
 
 "Att'ys-at-Law, 20 Custom House street, 
 
 "New Orleans, Louisiana." 
 
 '^ Here's the will," said Mark, handing the long 
 bit of foolscap he had been reading to Victor. 
 
 " It is a shame ! The very meanest will that 
 ever any old man made ! That's my opinion of it," 
 exclaimed iSTatika, indignantly, tossing back, with 
 her fair, white, jewelled hand, the heavy ringlets 
 that had fallen forward over her face as she leaned 
 over Victor's shoulder reading the portentous 
 papers. 
 
 " He was a mean, crabbed old hunks, any how ! 
 I always did think so," said Victor. "He has 
 been too good to us, who did not need his dirty 
 money. But, to treat poor Mark in that tantalizing 
 fashion ! It is downright wicked ! I hope the old 
 fellow will be put through three millions of ages in 
 purgatory for his malice ! As if it was Mark's fault 
 that he can't walk ! Oh, le vieil diable ! " 
 
38 PANOLA. 
 
 " Le viell Adam ! ^' added Xatika, laiighiDg at 
 Victor's violence. 
 
 " Oh, no! " said Mark, "iin pauvre vieux homme. 
 Not the man of sin or the old devil either.'' 
 
 "Yes ! He loas an old devil," said Natika, reso- 
 lutely. "As for me, I intend to divide with you, 
 Mark. I shall write instantly to those tiresome 
 lawyers. I shall not remain a party to such mean- 
 ness as that ! " Here Natika violently stamped her 
 small foot in its black satin slipper. 
 
 " I have plenty of money of my own without this, 
 and so also has Victor. I never did like uncle 
 Jacob. His nose was crooked, and his chin too, 
 and he looked exactly like those misers in Quentin 
 Matsys' picture. Don't you remember, Victor? 
 And how I used to cry at the sight of him when I 
 w^as so little, and he glowered at me through his old 
 black-rimmed spectacles ! I hate spectacles, and I 
 hate misers. Mark is the only one of us that ever 
 w^as decently respectful to uncle Jacob. 
 
 " Don't you remember how you sketched his pro- 
 file on the vvall one night with a bit of charcoal, 
 when he came to see aunt Burthe, Victor ? It was 
 a very good likeness. Aunt Burthe scolded, but 
 uncle Jacob laughed at it and said you ought to 
 be made a painter of, and offered to pay for your 
 instruction in art. We don't deserve one cent from 
 uncle Jacob, and I sha'n't take it. Victor may do 
 as he likes, but I shall not take the money. I hate 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 39 
 
 uncle Jacob ! '' added she, passionately. " I am 
 glad he is dead. He should not have been let to 
 live so loug. Just to die and make people so very 
 unhap2)y as he has done now !" 
 
 "It is very good of you, Natika/' said Mark 
 Boiling, passing his hand wearily over his forehead 
 and eyes, leaning back helplessly in his invalid's 
 chair. " But it would be impossible for me to take 
 such advantage of your generosity. I can't receive 
 anything but the three hundred per annum that 
 uncle Jacob has seen fit to give to me. Of course 
 the rest of the estate will remain intact and accumu- 
 late during ray unfortunate existence for ^ the 
 Charity.' In all human probability I can never 
 claim it. It is not probable ; ah, it is scarcely even 
 possible, that I shall ever be able ^ to 2valk/ still 
 less that I should ever be so fortunate as ' to marry/ 
 as the will requires I should, before I can claim the 
 millions uncle Jacob has left behind him. Indeed, 
 the money would be of small value to me, if the 
 qualities needed to possess it were ever mine. Oh, 
 if I could ever hope to walk again ! If I could 
 ever dare to think of love as other men do ! I shoujd 
 care but little for money. But to be so helpless, so 
 dependent ! " 
 
 Mark sighed deeply. "And alas ! so y^ng,'' 
 
 added he, with a smile of bitter sadness. " t shall 
 
 J- 
 
 have to live a long time yet, I fear." 
 
 Natika's eyes filled with large tears, as she; looked 
 
40 PANOLA. 
 
 at Mark. He was so handsome, so attractive m 
 person and character ; and he sat there helpless 
 as the prince of the black isles in the fairy tale. 
 His lower limbs still perfect in outline, and yet 
 utterly useless and apparently immovable. Mark 
 was paralyzed from the waist downward ; yet there 
 was no appearance of wasting away in his fignre. 
 He was a picture of manly health and beauty as he 
 sat still in his chair before her eyes. 
 
 "Confound it!" exclaimed Victor Burlhe, spring- 
 ing up and kicking Natika's white poodle out of 
 his way, as he strode up to Mark and seized his 
 hand in both of his. " I say, Mark," continued 
 Victor, unmindful of the yelping of the poodle, or 
 of the angry exclamation of Natika at its treatment, 
 or her ineffectual attempts to console her dog's in- 
 jured feelings. 
 
 " I say, Mark ! (For heaven's sake, Natika, do 
 stop that wretched beast's mouth ! Choke him.) I 
 say, Mark, be reasonable now, and let us divide, 
 Natika and I. Let us throw it all into three parts 
 
 and each take one, and let the rest go to the d d 
 
 Charity, according to the will." 
 
 "Oh, no, Victor!" replied Mark, firmly, pressing 
 Victor's hand. "It is utterly impossible. I cannot; 
 believe I am not ungrateful, however, to you and to 
 Natika,"and Mark held out his other hand to Xatika. 
 She put down the poodle, whose cries had gradually 
 subsided under her caresses, and took Mark's hand 
 
IN THE ATT AK A PAS. 41 
 
 in hers. Mark drew her to him, and held up his 
 mouth to kiss her. 
 
 Natika kissed him — her face flushed crimson as 
 her lips met his, but she said nothing. Mark put 
 his arm around her waist as she stood by him, and 
 clasped Victor's hand yet more strongly. 
 
 " Dear cousins mine," said ]\Iark, in a voice 
 broken by emotion, *' I can't tell you how much I 
 feel your love and kindness. You must not think 
 me obstinate or proud, but I canH take your money. 
 In truth, so long as grandfather Canonge lives, I 
 want for nothing, and even the three hundred per 
 annum is superfluous. I need very little now, 
 though I have cost grandfather a great deal in 
 travelling about, and experimenting with surgeons 
 and doctors all over the world ; but I have giv^en it 
 all up. ]\Iy trip to Germany this past summer 
 ended it. I have tried every thing, and gone every- 
 where, to everybody. It comes to nothing. The 
 same old opinion reiterated again and again. They 
 all say : ^At any moment it is possible the power to 
 walk may return as suddenly as you lost it. But it 
 must come from a rush of internal vital force. The 
 paralyzed nerve cannot be reached by any external 
 n^eut or remedy.' " 
 
 ^' You have tried electricity and every thing?" 
 said Victor Burthe, interrogatively. 
 
 "And the faith doctor and mesmerism ? " added 
 Natika. 
 
42' PANOLA. 
 
 Mark smiled sadly. " I have tried every thing, 
 however absurd, or superstitious, or scientific ! What 
 matters it to me what restores me, so I am restored?" 
 
 "Old Nana says you are ^conjured,'" said Xati- 
 ka, half smiling, half weeping, at Mark's sad tones. 
 
 " I wish it was really so," replied Mark, with a 
 laugh. "There would be some hope of getting 
 imconjured, even if I had to seek the Vaudoo queen 
 herself." 
 
 "That would be Nana, then," said Natika. "She 
 is the queen ! She keeps a tame snake in the 
 gourd, and feeds it on milk, Lizbette says. All 
 the negroes believe in her power, and are dreadfully 
 afraid of her." 
 
 " I shouldn't be afraid of Nana, that old hag," 
 exclaimed Victor. " I should be more afraid of 
 her friend and mistress, your elegant stepmother, 
 Mrs. Frances Boiling, ISIark. I don't know why, 
 but I do dislike that woman ! " 
 
 "Oh, no, Victor!" replied Mark. "My step- 
 mother is not a bad woman. She has had no control 
 over me since I was twelve years of age. You know 
 grandfather Canonge took me soon after my father's 
 second marriage, and this paralysis came on while I 
 w^as at college. I went out to take a sleigh ride 
 one cold winter's day, got upset, had inflammatory 
 rheumatism, and have never walked since. That's 
 the whole story." 
 
 " Mrs. Boiling was therCj and nursed you while 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 43 
 
 vou were ill," said Victor. *' She is a bad woman, I 
 iLiuk. I never believed in her, somehow ; but I 
 don't exactly know how she could put you into such 
 a condition as this." 
 
 ^'She was extremely kind to me," said Mark, 
 o-ravely. " Such expressions about her annoy me, 
 Victor. I know how strong your prejudices are, 
 and that you dislike my stepmother, so don't let us 
 talk of her." 
 
 "She is very handsome, and extremely agreeable," 
 said Natika. "I like her very much, though I 
 have only seen her a few times, when I was here 
 before on a visit to grandfather Canonge. I sup- 
 pose she will come to see me soon, Mark." 
 
 "I suppose she will, Natika. I sent word to 
 Mrs. Flauoy's family to-day that you were here." 
 
 "I have been here a week now," said Natika. 
 "A whole week." 
 
 "A whole week," said Victor, mimicking her in- 
 flection of voice. "What an eternity for a Parisian 
 belle to waste in this dull country ! I wonder you 
 survive it, Natika.'^ 
 
 " I suppose decency requires of me to see my 
 grandfather occasionally, Victor, as it also impels 
 you to come and ' waste your sweetness on this 
 desert air,' at least once in ten years, for a few days. 
 Think of poor ^lark having to live here all the 
 time, and blush for your self-indulgence." 
 
 "The truth is, I am very soon bored in the 
 
44 PANOLA. 
 
 country," res2:)0iKlecl Victor. " I don't care much 
 for shooting and fishing, and I like to talk to men 
 better than to trees, and I had rather listen to Grisi 
 and Mario than to bird-singing." 
 
 ''And you had rather flirt with a pretty woman 
 than to do any thing else," rejoined Natika. 
 
 "Yes, I believe, ^that's a true bill,' as the law- 
 yers phrase it, Xatika," replied Victor, gayly, cast- 
 ing an involuntary glance at his own reflection in 
 the mirror opposite. Xatika's quick eye caught the 
 rapid glance of vanity. She clapped her hands 
 lightly, as if encoring a favorite maestro at the 
 opera house, laughing, as she exclaimed — 
 
 '' Vive ! vive ! Monsieur Xarcisse ! You are a 
 handsome fellow, Victor. You have the beautiful 
 dark eves of the Canoncres, and their fine strai^rht 
 features ; but so has Mark, and you have not got 
 the intellect of the Boilings; and that makes a dif- 
 ference in the expression, though most women would 
 not find that out." 
 
 "Pshaw, Natika," said Victor. "You can't 
 make me jealous of Mark, so you need uot try that 
 game, Miss Flash." 
 
 "Miss Flash! What is that?" asked Mark, 
 smilino^ at the rencontre of his cousins. 
 
 "Oh, a sobriquet that the Americans in Paris 
 gave to Natika," Victor said, carelessly. " She is 
 so capricious and scintillating and brilliant in her 
 w^ays and conversation." 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 45 
 
 Katika bit her lip— then she laup^hcd, but there 
 was no heartiness in the laugli. " Don't be stupid, 
 Victor. I don't mind ill nature, but I can't bear 
 stupidity. It bores me, especially in the country. 
 
 " ^la'rk," she continued, throwing herself grace- 
 fully upon the lounge near his chair, picking up 
 her poodle and fondling it, as she reclined on the 
 soft cushions; ''Mark, what has become of that 
 frightful boy of your stepmother's?— her son by the 
 first marriage? What was his name?" 
 
 ''Antony Coolidge, do you mean ? ^' asked Mark. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "He is still at St. Louis practising law, I believe. 
 He comes here sometimes to see his mother." 
 
 "He was a very ugly boy," remarked Natika. 
 "He had real African features, though he had blue 
 eyes and sandy hair. He looked like a white 
 
 negro — " 
 
 " So he is," interrupted Victor. " I beg your 
 pardon, ]\Iark, but every body knows that ]Mrs. 
 Boiling was only the natural half-sister of IMajor 
 Flanoy. Old Governor Flanoy acknowledged her, 
 and, according to the French law, legitimized her. 
 But her mother was a quadroon, you know, so 
 Antony Coolidge is only a reversion, according to 
 the natural law of Genesis, to tlie original type of 
 his grandmother's race. It is atavlsmJ' 
 
 Mark frowned, but did not contradict the state- 
 ment of Victor. He knew it to bo true. 
 
46 PANOLA. 
 
 "I like pure blood," said Natika, "even in my 
 dogs. Fanfan is a highly bred poodle. See how 
 delicate she is." And she held up the poodle's 
 paw. 
 
 " Yoiv forget, Natika," said Mark, quietly, " that 
 the Boll in ss are descendants of Pocahontas. So 
 that /have a strain of Indian in my blood." 
 
 "Oh, that's very different!" said Xatika. "I 
 don't dislike such a strain as that. It is such a 
 different race of people." 
 
 " You know they say now there was no such per- 
 son as the Princess Pocahontas," put in Victor. 
 
 " No such person as Mrs. Harris," said Xatika, 
 laughingly. 
 
 Mark's handsome face crimsoned, as he replied, 
 haughtily — 
 
 " I suppose we know best who are her descendants." 
 
 "I should think you ought to," said Victor, 
 lightly. "I don't quarrel with history or tradition. 
 I take it as it is told to me. I believe in all of it. 
 In Xapoleon and Pocahontas, and Captain John 
 Smith and ViHere's bloody shirt, and every thing ^ 
 enjlnj' 
 
 ^'What a remarkably developed phrenological 
 organ of credulity ! " said Natika. 
 
 "Well! I have to accept the alternative of be- 
 lieving every thing or believing nothing, and the 
 former state is the pleasantest, so I adopt it," replied 
 Victor, sitting himself down upon the footstool by 
 
IN THE ATTAKAPAS. 47 
 
 Xatik.Vs sofa. " I don't even doubt you^ Xatlka, 
 when you tell me you never coquette, and are never 
 inconstant to nos jyremicrs amours J^ 
 
 Natika made a " mou " at him. 
 
 " U you do that again I shall kiss you, Natika,'' 
 said Victor, resolutely. ^' I have as good a right to 
 kiss you as jNIark has." And there came a sudden 
 vivid flash in Victor's eyes. 
 
 " No ! you haven't, because you are not so good 
 as Mark,'' replied Xatika. *^\.nd besides" — she 
 paused — 
 
 "And besides," repeated Victor, looking sharply 
 at her. 
 
 *Mnd besides," continued Xatika, smoothing her 
 doix's silken ears, " I am not as fond of you as I am 
 of my cousin Mark," and she glanced at him 
 defiantly. 
 
 Victor looked steadily at her. Her eyes did not 
 fall. She looked as steadily back into his. 
 
 "Don't try to make a heros de Boiaan of your- 
 self, Victor," she remarked. " It is purely absurd 
 and a g-reat waste of * materiel ! ' " 
 
 "I know you think so, Natika," Victor replied. 
 "Mark," he continued, turning to Mark, wdio had 
 been sitting with his hand over his eyes, apparently 
 unconscious of the by-play of talk between his cousins, 
 "Mark, wdiat has become of Mryor Flanoy's only 
 daughter, that little white creature — nearly an 
 Albino — that used to come here so often, prowling 
 about you ? " 
 
48 PANOLA. 
 
 " Who ? Major Flanoy's daughter ? " asked Mark, 
 starting up to a more erect position in his chair and 
 dropping his hand from his eyes. 
 
 *' Oh, you mean Panola. Yes, she was very fair. 
 She is grown up now.'' 
 
 " Her hair it was lint-white, 
 Her skin it was snow-white, 
 Bright was the flash of her bhie, rolling e'e," 
 
 sang Victor, remodelling Burns to suit his own 
 ideas ; then he went on : 
 
 "She was uncanny, Mark, that child. She was 
 so white altoo-ether." 
 
 "Therefore she was justly named Paxola," said 
 Mark. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " asked Xatika. " It is 
 a queer name." 
 
 " It means ' cotton,' " replied Mark. " It is the 
 Indian name for cotton. Mrs. Flanoy is a half- 
 breed Cherokee, one of the Ross family. Major 
 Flanoy was in the army, stationed on the frontier of 
 the Indian Nation. He married his wife there. 
 She was very pretty, and well educated at Mrs. 
 AVillard's school in Troy. The major got most of 
 his fortune by her — she was rich. Panola is their 
 only child ; therefore an heiress." 
 
 " ^\niat a singular family those Flanoys must be ! 
 so much miscegenation among them," observed 
 Xatika. 
 
 " They are peculiar, or rather were, since they are 
 
THE HEROINE. 40 
 
 all (lead now except Panola and her mother. The 
 major died last year. The old governor must have 
 had a fearful temper. He died from breaking a 
 bloodvessel in a fit of rage.'' 
 
 "Is this creature — this Albino, as Victor calls 
 her — like them, or like her Indian ancestors ? " 
 asked Natika, yawning in a suppressed well-bred 
 way, as she pushed her poodle oif her lap and sat 
 ujiright on the sofa. 
 
 " She is like — " began ^lark, when the door was 
 suddenly thrown open, and a servant entered, an- 
 nouncing " Miss Flauoy, blaster Mark." 
 
 CHAPTEP. 11. 
 
 THE HETwOIXE. 
 
 VICTOR BURTHE sprang up from his low 
 seat at Natika's feet, and bowed instinctively 
 as the young girl entered the door. Panola paused 
 for an instant, struck aback at the unexpected sight 
 of strangers in Mark's private sitting-room ; for, 
 though she was aware that Mark's cousins were 
 guests of Docteur Canonge at this time, the servant 
 had awkwardly conducted her, without notification, 
 into their presence. 
 3 
 
50 PANOLA. 
 
 It was only an instant that Panola hesitated ; bnt 
 that was long enough for Natika and Victor, with 
 their practised eyes of society, to take an inventory 
 of her charms. The quick dilation of Victor's eyes, 
 and the sudden compressure of Natika's full, red 
 lips, showed surprise, and, in one of them, vexation, 
 at the vision suddenly presented to their well-bred 
 but rather insolent gaze. " Resplendence of beauty ,'' 
 thouo-ht Victor. " Where's the little Albino ? " 
 
 O 
 
 " What a complexion ! " thought Xatika. 
 
 The first impression Panola induced was a per- 
 ception of perfect bodily healthfulness. No young 
 Spartan maiden, dancing before Parthenope, was 
 ever more symmetrical in form, more graceful in her 
 poses, than was Panola. In the picturesque words of 
 her mother's people, " Panola was straight as a young 
 ash tree ; flexible as the reed by the river's side ; her 
 skin was white as a cotton-flake ; her lips were red 
 as the berries of the fire-free ; her eyes were blue as 
 the waters of the great lakes; her hair was golden 
 as the silk of the maize ; her cheeks were pink as 
 the sunset clouds ; she walked with the lightness of 
 the panther and the swiftness of the red deer ; her 
 form had the graceful swaying motion of the wind- 
 waved, gray moss upon tlie trees of the forest, and 
 vrhen she laughed, it was like the silver sounds of 
 falling waters." This was the description of 
 Panola that "Cherokee Joe" gave once to his chief, 
 her mother's cousin^ the great Satana. Victor 
 
THE HEROINE. 131 
 
 thought it was a very pretty tableau, as Panola 
 stood motionless, with the intense quiescence of an 
 Indian, for a moment in the doorway. 
 
 Panola was dressed very simply. A gown, cut 
 a la Gabrielle, fitted close to her perfect figure. She 
 wore a scarf of brilliant blue stuff, pinned squarely 
 around her shoulders, more in the fashion of an 
 Indian blanket than in the usual style of a Scotch 
 plaid. The gold brooch, which held the square 
 bkie mantle in position, was made into the totem 
 of her mother's family. It was a capital imitation, 
 in enamel of black and gold, of a coiled rattlesnake, 
 with head thrust out to strike. The snake's eyes 
 were of large diamonds ; its tongue encrusted with 
 small rubies; they glittered fiercely in the sun rays. 
 Panola wore a jaunty little hat, trimmed with blue 
 ribands, surmounted by the i)lumes from the wings 
 of the white crane, and these delicate feathers were 
 fastened in place by an aigrette, similar to her snake 
 brooch, of gold and diamonds. The two snakes 
 seemed almost alive, they were so admirable in 
 workmanship. She had on gloves of pearl-gray kid, 
 and her little, highly-arched feet, set straight on her 
 path as she walked, were fitted with tiny bronzed 
 boots, without heels, of Tournelle's finest make. She 
 walked swiftly, straight and noiselessly, as her an- 
 cestors did when they slipped lightly through the 
 pathless forests, ages and ages before her coming. 
 Panola held a small basket in one hand, and she 
 
^2 PANOLA. 
 
 carried a gold-mounted driving-whip in the other. 
 She caught Victor's eye and his glance of admira- 
 tion. She smiled and nodded her small head in 
 sudden recognition, saying frankly, " Mr. Burthe, 
 how do you do ? I have not forgotten you, though 
 I suspect you have forgotten me ; I was such a little 
 child when we last met. I am glad to see you 
 again.'' 
 
 Victor sprang forward with outstretched hand, 
 eager to claim thp friendly recognition. But Panola 
 only smiled and nodded gayly as she passed by him 
 towards Mark. 
 
 "Panola, my cousin. Miss Jacquimin," said Mark, 
 in Ills chair, waving his hand towards Xatika. 
 
 Panola walked forward without pausing, deposited 
 her whip and basket on the table by ]\Iark's side ; 
 then, turning quite deliberately to Xatika, putting 
 her hands together before her, made a profound 
 and deep courtesy, a I'Espagnolle. It took quite 
 a minute to perform the reverence. The Spanish 
 queen herself never made it more slowly and more 
 gracefully. 
 
 "She has had a dancing-master, at any rate," 
 thought Xatika, as she half rose and bowed with 
 careless Parisian grace to this strange girl. 
 
 "She wouldn't shake hands," thought Victor 
 Burthe. 
 
 Mark knew that Panola never did offer her 
 Land to any one whom she did not specially love; 
 
THE HEROINE. 53 
 
 she was very chary of any personal demonstration 
 towards any one. A clasp of the hand meant a 
 great deal from Panola. 
 
 She positively rejected the small insincerities of 
 society. She was always singularly true, but coldly 
 polite to strangers. She rarely ever showed sur- 
 prise or astonishment at anything — very diiferent in 
 that from her present companions, who were full of 
 French vivacity, and were continually "taking 
 fire," old Docteur Cauonge said, "at things and 
 people." 
 
 Natika looked amused as she caught Victor's eye. 
 
 Victor could not re])ress a smile, in spite of his 
 French courtesy ; but Panola paid no further atten- 
 tion to the cousins. She turned to ^lark, handing 
 him the small basket wreathed with fresh passion- 
 flowers. 
 
 "Mark, here are some fine pomegranates that I 
 kept in the greenhouse to ripen for you. See the 
 pretty red seeds bursting through the rinds ; and 
 here's a bunch of monockanock lilies. Aren't they 
 sweet? I went out on the lake in my dug-out, this 
 morning, to gather them myself " 
 
 " They are lovely, Panola," said Mark, extending 
 his hand for the basket. He took out its treasures 
 one by one. 
 
 "Passion-flowers, ripe jiomegranates, at this 
 season too; and monocka blooms, sweet as the giver, 
 Panola." 
 
54 PANOLA. 
 
 Panola laughed like a plcaficd child. " I like to 
 please you, Mark," she said, frankly, without afFcc- 
 tation. 
 
 Panola had the low silverv lau^rh as well as the 
 flute voice of the Indian woman. ^Nlr. Ruskin says 
 that it requires " generations of culture and refine- 
 ment to render a voice sweet in speech ; " where, 
 then, do Indian women get their proverbially soft, 
 lovely voices and laughter from ? 
 
 "Victor, Natika, have a pomegranate!" ex- 
 claimed Mark. " Panola, won't you hand the 
 basket to my cousins, as I can't ? " 
 
 Panola took up the basket instantly, and carried 
 it silently and swiftly — her motions were all swifl 
 and quiet — offering the fruit first to Xatika, then to 
 Victor. Natika took a pomegranate. Victor took 
 the basket from Panola to replace it on the table. 
 
 " No," said Panola, " no ; take the fruit. Mark 
 ■wished ?7ie to serve vou. I serve mv friends with. 
 pleasure." 
 
 Mark laughed. "And what would you do to 
 your enemies, Panola?" 
 
 " I have none," she replied ; " but if I had — " 
 she paused. 
 
 "Well, if you had?" asked Mark. 
 
 " I do not know ; I am part CherokeeP 
 
 Victor thought Xatika made a very pretty 
 picture, as she sat eating her red pomegranate seeds, 
 teasing Fanfau by offering the fruit to her occasion- 
 
r- 
 
 T II E II E K I X E . bo 
 
 ally. Fanfan snifled at the seed, shaking her curly- 
 ears ill disgust. Natika had all the grace of a 
 Cypriote and all the ease of a Parisienne. 
 
 "Take care, Xatika! you will stain your fingers 
 "with that rind ! '^ exclaimed Victor. " What an 
 absurdity it is to talk of the romance of the pome- 
 granate groves in ^Moorish Spain ! They planted 
 the groves so as to make tanniu for their leather 
 from the rinds — Cordovan leather. Your finger- 
 tips will be tanned, Xatika.'^ 
 
 " I know very well how to eat a pomegranate, 
 Victor. I sha'n't stain my fingers. I have not 
 forcrotten evervthinc: I ever knew before c:oin2: to 
 Paris !^' 
 
 " I thought you Aac?,'^ said Victor. 
 
 *' Mark," said Panola, as she replaced the basket 
 of fruit by his side, " aunt Boiling bade me say she 
 was prevented from calling to-day upon ^liss Jac- 
 quimin, on account of the arrival of Antony. But 
 she will hope to have that pleasure to-morrow." 
 
 '^ Has Antony come?" inquired i\Iark. 
 
 " Yes ; he arrived to-day from St. Louis. "We 
 did not expect him," said Panola, indiiferently. " I 
 sht)uld have been over to see you before, Mark, but 
 mamma has been so unwell and so sufferinor this 
 week that I could not leave her until this afternoon, 
 when she is sleeping, with Isobel to watch by her. 
 She was so ill that she sent a letter to the Nation by 
 Cherokee Joe to her cousiuj the chief Sataua. Joe 
 
56 PANOLA. 
 
 returned to-day and brought back the reply to 
 mamma's letter. She seemed so restless until it 
 came ; but then she got quiet and satisfied, and went 
 to sleep/' 
 
 "Is the chief coming here?" asked Mark, with 
 interest; " I should like to see him." 
 
 " I did not understand ; I did not see the letters. 
 Joe wrote mamma's in Cherokee, at her dictation. 
 I was not present. The reply was in the same 
 tongue. I speak it, of course, it being my mother's 
 tongue ; but I don't write it verv well, it is so diffi- 
 cult. I can spell out a simple sentence. It has no 
 literature except translations from English and other 
 tongues, you kuow." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Mark ; *' but it was a re- 
 markable people that could invent an alphabet and 
 a written tongue of their own." 
 
 " Yes ; Sequoyah was a great man," replied Panola, 
 a bright flush of pleasure gliding over her face and 
 neck as she spoke. Victor thought she was prettier 
 DOW than Xatika; but just then Xatika moved into 
 a still more graceful attitude, and Victor remained 
 as undecided in opinion as Paris was once. 
 
 "Natika's father was Greek," said Mark. "She 
 writes and speaks Eomaic as well as English. 
 Victor is all French Creole, and I am half French 
 and half Eno-lish, with a strain of Indian blood 
 in me." 
 
 "And / am part Cherokee, and my father's father 
 
T n E II E R I N E c 67 
 
 was a pure Netherlander," said Panola. " What a 
 mixture of races there is in America I " 
 
 "J/^ race is not mixed," said Natika, haughtily; 
 *'nor Victor's either. You can't call Greek and 
 French a mixture of races. They arc both Aryan 
 in origin." 
 
 " Not so certain," said ^lark, seeing the flash in 
 Panola's eye, and hastening to forestall any strife 
 between his guests. "M. Quatrefages declares that 
 the French are not Aryan in orio^in." 
 
 " I don't believe in ]\I. Quatrefages,'^ said Natika, 
 pettishly. "Victor, it is lovely in the garden. Let 
 us go out for a walk, if Miss Flanoy and IMark will 
 be so good as to excuse us for a little while." 
 
 Panola and Mark eagerly assured Natika of their 
 entire willingness to excuse them ; so Natika called 
 to Fanfan to follow her, threw a white scarf around 
 her shoulders, and, nodding " au revoir " to Panola 
 and Mark, she stepped out of the open French win- 
 dow on to the verandah, and thence into the well- 
 kept flower-garden. Victor followed her, not 
 altogether pleased, but true to his old allegiance. 
 Natika had ruled him since he was twelve years of 
 age: indeed, Natika had moulded Victor's character. 
 She was two years older than he, and much more intel- 
 liorent, and had a strono-er will. When Victor was 
 with her she controlled him most despotically ; when 
 separated from her he was sometimes rather re- 
 bellious; but a line or a word would bring the truant 
 
58 PANOLA. 
 
 back to her feet at any moment. Natika's power was a 
 fascination that Victor could never resist, any more 
 than a trained falcon can resist the call of the 
 whistle and the waving of the Jessies. He belonged 
 to the animum rex-ertend ; the domesticated game 
 which must return to its owner. He had asked 
 Katika to marry him about twice in every week 
 since he was grown up to years of majority, and liad 
 been as often rejected by her. But her rejections 
 were so softened by her natural coquetry, that Vic- 
 tor had never been able to reduce his hopes to abso- 
 lute despair. Sometimes he would get angry and 
 go away from Katika for months ; once he stayed 
 away for nearly a year; then one day he reappeared 
 unexpectedly before her when she was " having a 
 very good time" in Paris under the chaperonage of 
 some French friends — family connections of the 
 Canonizes. Natika was not at all afraid of ever 
 losing her power over Victor: she whistled him hack 
 whenever she wanted him. She loved power ; slie 
 did not love Victor ; but she did not wish to lose his 
 devotion and homage ; it was convenient for her, and 
 the close relationship gave her an unlimited oppor- 
 tunity to treat him exactly as she chose — sometimes 
 with tender affection, sometimes with cold indiffer- 
 ence. Natika was that sort of a woman who is always 
 attractive to ordinary men, and she had usually a 
 small crowd of adorei-s, chiefly very young men, 
 who were dazzled by her vivacity, her wit, her 
 
THE HEROINE. 59 
 
 intelligence, and her money — for Xatika was rich : 
 she had thirty thousand dollars 2)er annum in her own 
 right, and now she was to receive this addition from 
 uncle Jacob's will. Truly Xatika was scarcely to 
 blame if she felt as if she had the world in a sling, 
 to cast her throw where she pleased. 
 
 xSatika was twenty-seven years old now, and 
 time will tell even on the fairest face ; so she did 
 feel a pang of jealousy as she confronted the fresh 
 youth and beauty of the seventeen-year-old Panola. 
 Still she had great advantages over Panola. She 
 was an accomplished woman of the world, with all 
 her variety of fascinations ; and Panola was utterly 
 simple and unformed in manner; indeed Panola was 
 less wise about social usages than young girls 
 generally are, because her nature was partly that 
 of the Indian. She was straightforward, plain 
 and unpretending, with much of the impassive 
 quiet which she inherited from her mother. When 
 she was in society she rarely spoke, unless some 
 one spoke to her. She never volunteered an 
 opinion, or a graceful jest or witticism, as her 
 French friends continually did ; she did not under- 
 stand how to make a conversation. AVhat she had 
 to say she said modestly, but earnestly and firmly. 
 She sat usually in a state of utter immobility, excej^t 
 for the quick restless glancing of her blue eyes, 
 which allowed nothing to escaj^e their rapid gaze. 
 She talked more freely to Mark Lolling than to any 
 
GO PANOLA. 
 
 other human being; even her mother, a quiet Inch'au 
 in manner, never had received the confidences Panola 
 gave to Mark, who understood her perfectly. He 
 could almost read her thoughts at times ; and he 
 loved her intensely, with a love of utter sclf-abnoga- 
 tlon and of despair. He had watched the gradual 
 transformation of the pale, snow-white child into 
 this exquisitely lovely maiden. He had helped to 
 develop her slowly-maturing mind, until it seemed 
 to him as if the very wine and the sunshine of life 
 had grown to be incarnated in the body of Panola. 
 She brought fresh vitality, and the actual presence 
 of health and joy to him whenever she approached 
 him. A Sweden borgian would have said the 
 emanations of Panola's sphere were all life-giving, 
 they were so pure and so wholesome. If Panola had 
 any "nerves,'^ she did not know it. Katika was 
 full of nerves, and sentimental fancies. Panola had 
 a quiet contempt for Xatika and for all such weak 
 fine ladies. Mark knew this instinctively, and he 
 was glad to be left alone with Panola, while Xatika 
 and Victor walked in the garden. 
 
A FAMILY GROUP. Gl 
 
 CHAPTEr. III. 
 
 A FAMILY GROUP. 
 
 PAXOLA knelt down by Mark^s chair soon as 
 the cousins disappeared out of the apart- 
 ment. She took Mark's hand and held it, smooth- 
 ing it with hers as she said : 
 
 " !Mark, you look troubled. AYhat has occurred ? 
 Tell Panola." 
 
 Mark could never resist the pleading tones of 
 Panola's voice; so he had to tell her all about uncle 
 Jacob's will. 
 
 Panola listened attentively; her tender, soft 
 touches comforted Mark. He leaned back in his 
 chair with his eyes closed ; but his expressioi/of 
 countenance showed that the worst bitterness ^y his 
 disappointment was over, now that he was jsvivo, of 
 Panola's sympathy. He did not dare trust' himself 
 to look at Panola : he knew that his glances ^.would 
 alarm and startle her childlike confidence in him. 
 So he shut his eyes while she held his hand so 
 loving! v; and he did not even clasp her fingers; he 
 let his hand lay supinely in her cool, soft palms. 
 Every pulse throbbed and bounded, and a lover's 
 joy flowed to the innermost recesses of his 
 heart; but !Mark controlled hipisfelf by an impe- 
 rious strength of will; he did not allow a tremor: 
 
62 PANOLA. 
 
 he braced himself internally and sat as If lie were 
 turned into stone. He could not risk the loss 
 of Panola's affectionate friendsliip, -which was so 
 much to him in the impoverishment of his daily 
 life. 
 
 ''Mark," said Panola, after hearing all he had to 
 tell, listening for the thousandth time to his plain- 
 tive laments over his useless existence, "jSIark, why 
 should your life be useless? You have studied 
 medicine a good deal ; why don't you help your 
 grandfather in his practice? You could. Plenty 
 of these poor 'gumbo French^ and 'cajeaus' would 
 be glad to come to you for consultation. I would 
 not fret and grieve over myself. I ^^'0uld make 
 occupation ! It is riot manly to repine.'^ 
 
 Mark opened his eyes and looked at Panola. 
 
 " You are right, Panola," he replied. " You are 
 always right ; and you always do me good, Panola." 
 
 " I am glad I do, dear Mark," said the girl, quite 
 simply. "I think how much better off you are 
 than poor mamma. Oh, Mark ! it is too sorrowful 
 to see mamma She is becoming so helpless now. 
 She has lost now the use of her arms and hands. 
 Her whole frame is rigid, except her head. Such a 
 strano;e affection as it is ! The doctors say thev have 
 never seen anything like it. She has never had a 
 stroke of paralysis so far as she knows, and she Is 
 not affected like a paralytic ; there is no withering 
 nor change in her flesh. She is as round and plump 
 
A FAMILY G K U P . Go 
 
 as ever, and all the processes of the system seem to 
 be perfect and unchanged. She never has had the 
 least pain ; but three years ago the joints of her 
 toes became rigid, and gradually this rigidity has 
 extended until now she lies as helpless as a body of 
 stone. She is not affected as you are, Mark. You 
 had rheumatic fever to cause your partial paralysis ; 
 but mamma has never had anything the matter with 
 hex, and she is not at all a nervous person.'' 
 
 " ]N^o," said Mark, " she is rather phlegmatic, and 
 self-controlled as a stoic; she is not at all emo- 
 tional.'' 
 
 '^She is so reticent, too," continued Panola. ^^I 
 have to guess at her feelings. She rarely expresses 
 what she thinks or feels in words." 
 
 "But she has a firm will," said Mark, "quiet and 
 undemonstrative as she is. Has she ever got over 
 her prejudice against my stepmother? 
 
 " No, indeed, she has not. You know, long be- 
 fore papa died, mamma wouldn't suffer aunt Boiling 
 to enter her room. It excited her so much that 
 papa had to ask aunt not to go there. It troubled 
 papa greatly ; he was very fond of aunt Boiling. 
 "When he died, you know he requested in his will 
 that she should be allowed to live in the Pa- 
 vilion as Ions as it should be convenient for her to 
 do so ; and he left her half of his personal prop- 
 erty. It was not much. The property was all 
 mamma's, bought with her paraphernal money, and 
 
64 PANOLA. 
 
 of course, by the laws of this State, papa could not 
 dispose of it. The chief, Satana, had a contract of 
 marriage drawn by the first lawyers of tlie State 
 before he would consent to mamma's marriage with 
 a white man.'' 
 
 " What reasons does your motlier give for dislik- 
 ing my stepmother so intensely ? " 
 
 " JSTone, but that she does not like her ; an Indian 
 reason, you will think, Mark," laughed Panola. 
 "But you know what an Indian's prejudices are — 
 instinctive, I suspect ; when they hate, they Iiate." 
 
 "And when they love, they are faithful unto 
 death," said Mark, softly. 
 
 " Yes, we never forget a good ; we never forgive 
 an injury," said Panola, and a dark look came over 
 her fair face, changing all its brightness like tlie 
 passing of a cloud across the moon's disc. " You will 
 think me very wicked, Mark. I am rather a pagan 
 by organization, I believe sometimes. At any rate 
 I feel much more sympathy with the old Stoics, 
 whose books we read together, than I do with the 
 Christian Scriptures. I believe, on occasion, I could 
 see my enemy scalped or burnt at the stake, with as 
 much satisfaction as my progenitors on the maternal 
 side. Then, again, I am ashamed of such ferocity ; 
 that is, when the temperament of the Xetherlandcrs 
 is in the ascendant ; then I think I could forgive 
 mv enemy and give him aid, and I love Christ and 
 Christian teachings." 
 
A FAMILY GROUP. 65 
 
 " It is the dual nature in you wliieli makes this 
 strife, Panola. At the end of your life you will see 
 which has gained the victory; not before." 
 
 " I hope it may be the good Christian. I don't 
 know, though." 
 
 " Does my stepmotlier reciprocate your mother^s 
 ill-will?'' asked Mark, pursuing his train of 
 thought. 
 
 " Xo ; that's the w^orst of it ! Aunt Boiling is so 
 kind and so amiable, it makes me really uncorafort- 
 ble. She is always ready to do any little thing for 
 mamma, and often does, without mamma's knowin^r 
 anything about it. She will go even into the 
 kitchen and make the nicest jellies and daintiest 
 cakes with her own hands, things that mamma is 
 very fond of; and Isobel and I have to take thera 
 in and not let mamma know who it is that prepares 
 them so deliciously. Xo one could be kinder than 
 aunt Bollino^." 
 
 '^I have always found her very kind," said ]\rark, 
 thoughtfully. "She was very good to me when she 
 came to college and found me ill there. I have not 
 been much with her. My father seemed to be fond 
 of her. I have heard that she was very unhappy in 
 her first marriage with Antony Coolidge's father. 
 But they lived in Kentucky during their marriage; 
 he was a citizen of that State. My father met her 
 here, you know, whilst she was on a visit to her 
 brother. Major Flanoy. They lived then in another 
 
66 PANOLA. 
 
 parish, and I was off at school and college under the 
 care of grandfather Canonge ; so I never saw her 
 again until I was ill at college, and then here after- 
 wards, when I found her domiciliated with Major 
 Flanoy, after my father's sudden death.'' 
 
 "She always speaks very affectionately of you," 
 said Panola. " She often wishes her own son was as 
 good as you are, and I am sure I wish he was any- 
 thing at all like you ; for, as he is now, he is exces- 
 sively disagreeable to me. I have to treat him po- 
 litely, of course, on account of aunt Boiling; but I 
 almost hate Antony Coolidge. I should like to 
 stick arrows into him and burn him up, as my 
 Cherokee great-great-grandmother would have done 
 to anybody she did not like." 
 
 "I think, Panola," said Mark, smiling at the 
 exaggeration of her expressions of antipathy, " that 
 my stepmother has some views different froui yours 
 on that subject. She would like to draw the bonds 
 of relationship closer between you and your half- 
 cousin." 
 
 " Well, she'll never do it," said Panola, ener- 
 getically, " for, if I do hate any human being, it is 
 my half-cousin, Antony." 
 
 Just then their conversation was interrupted by 
 hearing Victor Burthe's magnificent baritone voice 
 ringing out the verse of Burns — he was teasing 
 ]S"atika about Panola's beauty — 
 
A FAMILY GROUP. 67 
 
 "Her hair it is lint-wliite, 
 Her skin it is milk-white, 
 Briglit is the glance of her bhie, rolling e'e ; 
 Eed, red, are her ripe lips, 
 And sweeter than roses. 
 Oh ! where could my true love wander frae me ? " 
 
 " Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful voice ! " ex- 
 claimed Panola, starting to her feet and holding her 
 head forward in an eager, listening attitude. 
 
 Mark smiled sadly at her impulsive movement. 
 She had dropped his hand so quickly when the first 
 note fell upon her ear. 
 
 "Victor's voice is very fine,'' he said. "He is 
 considered to be the very finest baritone in Xew 
 Orleans, that city of music.'' 
 
 "Oh, it is!" said Panola, with a half-sigh. "I 
 wish he would sing some more." 
 
 " I wnll make him sing for you when he comes in,'' 
 said Mark. " But here comes grand fatlier," he con- 
 tinued, seeing the door open suddenly. 
 
 "Ah ! Mademoiselle Panola," cried Docteur Ca- 
 nonge, before he was well in the room, "I haf jus' 
 receive' the notiss of your presence here. You brino- 
 wiz you ze beautiful sunshine ! It haf been wedder 
 not so good since here you was the week past. 
 Mark and I, we haf missed you much ; ver' great 
 deal. I, more as Mark. He not haf so much 
 galanterie as his ole granfader. Pauvre gar^on ! " 
 
 The old docteur kissed Panola's hand, patted Mark 
 on the shoulder, then drew a very snuffy, red silk 
 
68 PANOLA. 
 
 pocket-handkerchief out and blew his nose violently. 
 Panola saw the twinkling of a tear-drop in the old 
 man's eye, as he turned hastily away. He was 
 making an effort to hide his emotion, so as not to let 
 Mark see how troubled he was about the will. 
 
 He turned back to Panola. '' You haf come now 
 in ver' good hour, in ver' best of time ! for I haf 
 now, you see, my granddaughter, Xatika, and my 
 grandson, Victor Burthe. You haf see Xatika? 
 Ah, that is good, ver' good. An' you haf see 
 Victor? That is also good. He haf fine voice, 
 haf Victor Burthe ! ver' fine ! You shall hear him 
 sino;. He sing: be-eu-tifool ! be-eu-teefool ! '' The 
 old docteur prolonged the adjective with a circumflex 
 accent upon it, opening his eyes widely, and spread- 
 ing out his hands as he spoke it emphatically. 
 
 Panola assured him she fully credited all he said. 
 She had " heard Mr. Burthe sing a few notes 
 already." 
 
 ^'Ah ! you haf him already hear? Ah, that is 
 "well. But you haf not yet Natika hear declaim. 
 She haf fine talent, almost like mine, for dc drame. 
 She ack well ; presque comme Pachel. Her Her- 
 mione is ver' like Rachel. Ah! ma foi, you shall 
 see her. We shall haf soiree of charades and leetle 
 drame. Quelques declamations from Katika, and 
 some song from Victor, and some belle musique 
 from you ; you will bring de Stradinarius dat you 
 procure from Mexique, and you will play for us; 
 
AFAMILTGROUP. GO 
 
 and Mark shall listen, an' shall play at cartes wid 
 some friends of de voisin; and I shall ack in 
 cliarades, and we shall have cotillon, and I sliall 
 dance wid Madame Duplessis, la m^-jre Xicolline, 
 and also wid you, Mademoiselle Panola, and wid de 
 veuve charmante, jNIadame votre tante. You can 
 come demain ; to-morrow, perhaps. I will consulte 
 wid Xatika, and wid Lizbette. Lizbctte muss be 
 consulte, you know. Mademoiselle Panola" — the 
 gay old man nodded his head and laughed — " Liz- 
 bette rule Mark and I. AVe ver' much fear Liz- 
 bette ! X'este ce pas, Mark ? "' 
 
 Mark smiled. " Yes, indeed, grandpapa ! Liz- 
 bette would revenge herself by giving us cold coifee 
 and burnt toast if we didn't consult her in all do- 
 mestic arrangements. You had better ask her first, 
 before you invite any of your guests." 
 
 ^'I tink so, indeed. I shajl go immediatement to 
 consulte Lizbette. You stay. Mademoiselle Panola, 
 jusqu'a mon retour from de Tartarean region; 
 Orphce will soon return," and the merry old man 
 darted out of the room like a superannuated swallow, 
 swiftly, if rather tremulously — singing, in a cracked 
 falsetto and in very quavering style, as he went : 
 " Que faro senza, Eurjdice." 
 
 lie was very quaint in appearance , as thin as a 
 human being could be, with a fine, cleanly-cut, deli- 
 cate, long French countenance, not very wrinkled, 
 but very pale and sallow. His head was good; his 
 
70 PANOLA. 
 
 forehead very intellectual ; his dark eyes, bright and 
 sparkling, beamed with good nature and vivacity. 
 His eyebrows and hair were very white. He wore 
 a four-cornered skull-cap of black velvet. He was 
 very neatly dressed in the summer costume of striped 
 blue linen, worn by Creoles in Louisiana. His 
 hands were small, the fingers long and delicate, the 
 thumb and forefinger of his right hand slightly 
 stained from the use of snuff. 
 
 He soon returned with Lizbette's gracious per- 
 mission for the soiree, which he announced trium- 
 phantly to Panola, then running to the Venetian 
 door, he called out as loudly and shrilly as pos- 
 sible : 
 
 "Natika! Victor! Venez ici mes cheres enfans ! 
 As quick as possible ! Come, my children ! I am 
 in much haste ! ^' 
 
 Natika and Victor quickly obeyed their grand- 
 father's summons. They came in great haste, 
 almost out of breath. Natika was quite flushed 
 with anxiety to know what was wanted. She had 
 been absent from him so many years she had for- 
 gotten her grandfather's impulsive, ways. She 
 looked blankly at Victor, who, with his usual in- 
 souciance, shrugged his shoulders and laughed 
 when Docteur Canonge announced his intention 
 of having a soiree on the following evening. " He 
 had already consulte Lizbette," he said. " She 
 had gracieusement agree for to make grand efforts in 
 
A FAMILY GROUP. 71 
 
 ze way of gumbo fillet, also oysturcs and oJcr tings 
 for im petit soupcr, and Mademoiselle Panola she 
 'av^e promis to assist wid her violin magnifique, and 
 also, he was sure, would his dear children Xatika and 
 Victor give their amiable tributes to the recreations 
 of the evening." 
 
 Victor recovered his self-possession sooner than 
 Katika. Docteur Canonge was waiting impatiently 
 for their approbation of his scheme of entertain- 
 ment. Victor assured his grandfather that he might 
 rely upon him for any amount of singing short of a 
 whole opera, and ]Sratika was compelled to adopt 
 the role of graceful obedience, though she privately 
 informed Victor she considered the whole affair 
 would be a tremendous bore ; an evening with 
 country neighbors and home-made music not ap- 
 pearing very inviting to this spoiled belle of Parisian 
 salons. " But at any rate it will be a novelty," she 
 said. " I shall have vou and Mark as a dernier 
 resource when I grow weary of the cam2)agnard5." 
 
 Panola arose from her chair now to go home. 
 Docteur Canonge darted forward to accompany her 
 to her carriage. "Mademoiselle Panola," he said, 
 "you will convey mes homages respecteuscs, to your 
 charming aunt, Madame Boiling, and to iMonsieur 
 Antony, votre cousin, and you will request them to 
 honor me with their agreeable society to-morrow 
 evening. Mark, you will write for me leetle notes 
 to ze Smitts and ze Clark families, as I do not so 
 
/2 PAXOLA. 
 
 good English write as you. I will myself send im 
 billet to die faniille Duplessis — all zie four families 
 of zem — particulierement Madame Duplessis m^re/' 
 
 The merry little docteur talked all the way out 
 of the room, as he walked by Panola's side, out of 
 the hall, on to the verandah, and to the front gate, 
 where her phaeton was in waiting, with a man on 
 horseback to accompany it. Victor followed to put 
 Panola into her carriage. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Panola," said the old docteur, 
 lowering his voice cautiously, "you see my poor 
 Mark is ver' much trouble. You have heard of that 
 villain will ? That testament malin of mv brudder 
 Jacob ? Ah ! si ingrat and malicicux of Jacob ! 
 Zu mock dat bov so! He cut me off wid nozinir! 
 precisement nozing ! and he give Mark ver' leetle. 
 I am ver' glad he gif so much zu Natika and zu 
 Victor ; but it is hard for poor Mark ! His fader 
 gif him nozing eider! Madame Boiling sa veuve 
 charmante she get what Boiling had ; not much ! 
 I haf got some leetle, and I will gif to ]\Iark all I 
 can ; but it is ver' sad for poor Mark, and I will 
 have soiree pour egayer jMark ! and for compli- 
 ment zu Xatika and zu Victor," ended the cour- 
 teous docteur, catching: si^ht of Victor behind them. 
 
 Victor smiled, and walked faster up to Panola's 
 other side. He had overheard his grandfather. 
 
 Panola assured the dear old man that she would 
 do all in her power to second his good intentions, 
 
A FAMILY GROUP. 73 
 
 and v«;he shook hands with him as lie assisted her 
 into her phaeton. Victor stood idly by. Panola 
 did not oiler her hand, but bowed to him politely. 
 The groom mounted his horse. Panola touched 
 her ponies with her whip, and was soon whirled 
 away, leavino^ Docteur Canono-e and Victor leanin"; 
 on the low gate gazing after her. 
 
 " That's Cherokee Joe wiz ^lademoiselle Pa- 
 nola/' said Docteur Canonge. *' He always ride 
 after her ; but never after no one else. He only 
 hunt and shoot and keep zle larder supply wiz 
 game for Major Flanoy ; but he go wiz Panola 
 Avhenever she go alone. Pier fader dead and her 
 moder sick. I expect die chief Satana make Joe 
 stay to look after Panola. If anybody do harm to 
 Panola all zle tribe of zie Cherokees would hunt 
 him down. Zose Injuns never forgives nor forgets 
 any ting good — neider bad." 
 
 " I shouldn't like to have the hatred of an In- 
 dian/' observed Victor, lightly, " especially of a 
 Avhole tribe of Cherokees ! Do you think, grand- 
 papa, they can ever be civilized entirely?" 
 
 ^^As a pure race, no! I zink zey are as essen- 
 tially savage as zie wolf! But as zie wolf may be 
 metamorphose graduellement, into zie faithful dog, 
 so zie Indian may be changed by zie mingling of 
 blood wiz zie white races." 
 
 ''But you do not approve of any mixture of races, 
 graud])apa ? " 
 
74 PANOLA. 
 
 " ]N^o ! Zle wlilte races have attained zeir excel- 
 lence through much effort, and in course of long 
 ages of time. Kot only zie volume, but zie quality 
 of zeir brain matter is zie result of activities, expe- 
 riences, sufferings, perhaps, to wliich no oder race of 
 man has been subjected. I do not very -willingly 
 see zat jeopardized ; but of all zie colored races, zie 
 Indian of America is least objectionable. He pos- 
 sesses some very fine traits of nature, which in zie 
 best specimens of hybrids among zem, are quite 
 admirable! But dere are Indians and Indians! 
 Among zie savage races of man, as in zie savage 
 races of beasts, zere are lions and tigers and pan- 
 thers, and aho jackals. I admire zie lions; I do 
 not particularly like zie jackal." 
 
 " Do you think they can ever be made into good 
 citizens, grandpapa?" 
 
 " I doubt it ! AVe must put away all zie roman- 
 tic notions about zose Indians. Zey are a strong 
 race. A people different from all oders. Can you 
 tame w'holly zie tiger or zie zebra ? zie onagra ? 
 Can you make zie rattlesnake gentle ? If you can, 
 (\Qn you may hope to tame zie unmixed Indian. 
 Zey are brave, proud, continent, stoical, strong, but 
 zey are deceitful as zie adder, cunning as zie wild- 
 cat, persevering, obstinate, suspicious, revengeful, 
 and quick-sighted as zie lynx. AVhat can you do 
 -sviz such a people ? Change his blood or kill him. 
 Zat is all we can do. I do not myself expect to see 
 
A F A :\I I L Y G R U P . iO 
 
 zie catamount and zie jaguar ploughing zie fields, 
 instead of zie ox or zie mule/' 
 
 XoTE.— Their religion is a sort of Theism. They believe in a 
 Great Sjurit who governs all things, and they believe, like tlie Per- 
 sians, ill an evil spirit, which they call " Ah-skeen-er." He is an 
 invisible spirit, who is not susceptible of a good thought, and 
 whose tendency is essentially alioaT/s in favor of evil, and that he 
 has innumerable other subordinate evil spirits, subject to his in- 
 fluence and bidding, that continually infest the earth and all 
 things connected therewith (including the air), and wliich are 
 never idle in their inspimtiom of evil to the human family as 
 well as to the brute creation. Hence all the evil passions are 
 generally, by the Cherokees, charged to the Devil— or, as they 
 call him in their native language, "Ah-skeen-cr," which signifies 
 the qnintcssence of meanness. Also, misfortunes, accidents of 
 injurious character, sickness, bad dreams, evil forebodings, men- 
 tal aberration, etc., are supjwsed to be the work of devils, who 
 obey the will of their great master, the chief of all devils, whose 
 throne or chief-seat is generally conceded to be somewhere in the 
 next world, opposite the " Happy hunting-grounds," and in a 
 region where the sun never shines, and where total darkness 
 prevails, and where briars and thoi^xs grow densely all over tlie 
 country, and the game is always wvVrf. The devil receives the 
 wicked (or those to be punished for their bad work on this eartli) 
 from the hands of his executive officers (the subordinate devils 
 •ready alluded to) and turns them loose, in this cheerless region, 
 naked and hunr/ry. The punishment in this Cherokee Hell ap- 
 pears to be, that the parties punished do not and cannot know^ 
 each other, on account of the darkness, but are in inutual fear of 
 each other ; that, being always famished or hungry, they are in 
 continual but vain pursuit of the wild game, and that being 
 naked, their j^ersons are continually torn by the briars and 
 thorns that cover the country. These, I think, are substantially 
 the outlines of the Cherokee idea of the princ§ of devils and his 
 '* imps." 
 
76 PAX OLA. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ACTED CHARADES. 
 
 FATE was propitious to Docteur Caiionge — the 
 evening was clear and bright, and all his 
 guests accepted avec plaisir. They came before 
 dark. The salons were thrown open and were well 
 lighted with lamps and candles. Tlie long, one- 
 storied house, with the wide verandahs in front 
 and back, made quite a brilliant display, as the 
 guests drove up in their various equipages. Madame 
 Bollinsr, Antonv and Panola came in a handsome 
 close coach, with outriders, one of whom was Cher- 
 okee Joe, mounted upon a little black Indian pony. 
 The Smith and Clark families had already arrived, 
 and Docteur Canonge was trying to amuse them with 
 some stereoscopic views, that Mark had collected 
 durinor big travels in search of health. The Smiths 
 and the Clarks were Americans, recently moved into 
 the neighborhood. They were good, commonplace, 
 rather stiff and awkward, people, fearful to enter- 
 tain, for, as Docteur Canonge whispered to Panola, 
 '^they ivere not at all responsive in character J^ 
 
 Xatika had begun to look as patiently resigned 
 as St. Catherine, a martyr -on her wheel ; Victor was 
 good-naturedly trying to talk to the eldest Miss 
 Clark, who professed to be musical, and promised 
 
ACTED CHARADES. il 
 
 " to execute the Glciimaiy waltzes in the course of 
 the evening." Mr. Clark was a tall, slab-sided man, 
 with a hooked nose, who talked so rapidly, and cut 
 off his words in such a manner, that Docteur Can- 
 onge, with his imperfect knowledge of English, 
 found him, as he told Panola, " enormoushj dif- 
 ficult to comprehends^ Madame Clark (as she 
 was much pleased to be called — it sounded grander 
 than plain Mrs.) was " enormously '' fat, and rather 
 jolly ; she laughed and was in a good humor with 
 everything and everybody. The Smiths were lan- 
 guishing, drawling, and fashionably indifferent 
 about everything ; there were three young ladies of 
 them ; their mamma, who wore caps trimmed with 
 red ribbons and yellow flowers ; and also tliere was 
 a brother, who was an exquisite, sporting yellow 
 gloves, who carried an eye-glass, and wished to 
 devote himself to ]N^atika, whom he decided imme- 
 diately ^^ to be stunning.^' 
 
 Docteur Canonge darted forward to meet Madame 
 Boiling and her party. lie was immensely relieved 
 at their arrival. The Smiths and Clarks were almost 
 too much for him. Madame Bollino; entered leanino; 
 upon her son's arm; Panola followed, and a servant 
 came after her, carrying a small violin-box, which 
 Panola carefully de})osited herself in a very safe 
 corner of an etar/b-e. It contained her Straduarius, a 
 violin, precious as gold or diamonds to a true artiste. 
 Madame Boiling was handsome; her eyes were 
 
78 PANOLA. 
 
 large and bright, but so black that there did not 
 seem to be any gradation of tinting between the 
 iris and pupil, which gave a singular expression to 
 them ; her lashes were so long they curled upwards 
 like deep fringes, her nose was decidedly retrous.^e ; 
 some persons, evil-minded, might have called it a 
 positive snub; it was rather spread out at the nos- 
 trils, showing the strain of African blood ; the mouth 
 was large and sensuous, w^ith full, rich, red lips, and 
 when she smiled she showed two rows of strong, 
 white teeth ; her forehead was low ; the black hair, 
 wavy and abundant, grew down nearly to her eye- 
 brows, which were black and strongly marked ; she 
 had a well-formed, shapely figure, rather inclined to 
 embonpoint; her hands were large, and thick in the 
 fingers. She was elaborately dressed in a crimson- 
 satin gown, with lace flounces, her neck and arms 
 bare — they were fat and handsome ; altogether she 
 was an attractive woman. 
 
 Antony Coolidge did not resemble his mother. 
 He was very homely, and, as Xatika said, "he lootel 
 like a white negro." He had good manners, and 
 was quiet, but rather heavy in conversation. 
 " Panola was dressed in white tarlatan (the usual 
 dress of young Louisiana girls); she had a blue 
 ribbon around her waist, and she wore her rattle- 
 snakes, one in her breast, and one in her hair made 
 the clasp of a wreath of forest leaves, and small, 
 white, well-opened cotton bolls which she wore 
 
ACTED CHARADES. 79 
 
 around her head ; a fantastic but pretty crown, try- 
 ing to any complexion but one so fair as Panola's. 
 Her long, straight hair, Avhich looked like the spun, 
 yellow threads made by glass-blowers, was knotted 
 up and tied with a blue ribbon, low on the neck, 
 rather in Indian stvle than that of Monsieur Alfree. 
 But it suited Panola. Xatika looked at her with 
 curiosity ; she considered her style decidedly " outree" 
 and "sauvage.'' 
 
 All the families of the Duplessis now poured into 
 the room, and there began to be a clatter of tongues 
 and such an interchanging of compliments that the 
 whole roof commenced to echo and re-echo, and 
 Docteur Canonge's soiree was fairly started on a 
 prosperous and successful tide. A man, who had 
 been employed for the purpose, opened the piano 
 and began to play gay waltzes and dances. The 
 merry Duplessis Avere soon whirling around the 
 room, and everybody was very quickly drawn into 
 the vortex. Docteur Canonge led off the cotillon 
 with Madame Duplessis, mere, who was seventy 
 years old, and wore a turban of black lace, with a 
 bird of paradise fastened on the top of her gray hair. 
 She was a small, active old Frenchwoman, light as 
 a bird, and she danced down the cotillon with 
 twinkling feet and sparkling eyes. Her great-grand- 
 children were dancing too, and her granddaughter 
 and her granddaughter's husband. Her daughter 
 was playing cards with Mark " at presenC^ 
 
80 PANOLA. 
 
 Madame Boiling was led out by Mr. Clark, and 
 Panola danced with Victor. Natika fell to the 
 share of Antony Coolidge; she did not exert herself 
 to be specially agreeable until she caught a glance 
 of unequivocal admiration in his stupid, watery, 
 blue eyes, and Xatika was coquette enough to be 
 pleased at anybody's admiration, so she began to 
 rouse herself and to talk a little more. 
 
 The Duplessis flew about over the floor like so 
 many sparrows. After the first cotillon they had 
 some charades. Natika soon found that unpromis- 
 ino; as had been the exterieur she was surrounded 
 by first-rate native talent. All the Duplessis acted 
 well. Docteur Canonge was really inimitable in 
 his way. It was as good as a French vaudeville. 
 Antony Coolidge had decent abilities as an actor. 
 Madame Boiling was fine; so was Victor, and 
 Katika found out she would have to exert all her 
 talent to hold her own among them. Panola did 
 not act well ; she had not the gift of personatian, 
 but she was lovely in tableaux. So they made her 
 into an Iphigenia at Aulis. 
 
 Docteur Canonge was the sacrificing priest ; Victor 
 was Achilles ; Madame Bollino- Clvtemnestra ; and a 
 Judge Morgan, from Kentucky, who was a guest 
 of the Smiths, and whom they had requested per- 
 mission to bring to the soiree, w^as metamorphosed 
 into a fine Agamemnon, with his head buried deep 
 in Madame Boiling's black velvet circular, which 
 
ACTED CHARADES. 81 
 
 answered very well for a classic mantle under the 
 exigencies of the occasion. This tableau was en- 
 cored repeatedly, and each time Docteur Canonge, 
 the laurel-crowned priest, assumed a more ferocious 
 aspect as he clasped the sacrificial knife, one of his 
 largest surgical instruments, in his hand. Victor 
 Bur the sang his very best after this. He watched 
 Panola's face to see what she thought of his singing. 
 He was flattered by her breathless attention. He 
 glided to her side. " You are fond of music, 
 Mademoiselle Panola ! " 
 
 ^'Fo)id of music ! ' said Panola, opening her 
 blue eyes widely. " I think sometimes mr/ life is in 
 musicJ^ 
 
 " That's a strong expression/' said Victor, 
 smilins:. 
 
 " I suppose it is," replied Panola. 
 
 Just then Docteur Canonge came to speak to 
 Panola, and she went off with him. In a few mo- 
 ments a low strain of music filled the salon. 
 
 It was a slow, solemn movement, and it seemed 
 to Victor that there were at least four violins play- 
 ing in perfect harmony. It had almost the effect 
 of full orchestra. He looked at ^lark for explana- 
 tion. Mark smiled at his surprised glance. 
 
 "It is Panola," he whispered, 
 
 " Panola ! does she play the violin like that ? " 
 
 Mark nodded his head, but a stop was put to 
 further conversation by the drawing back of the 
 5 
 
82 PANOLA. 
 
 curtains in front of the portion of the parlor impro- 
 vised into a stage. 
 
 Natika, in the classic drapery of Camille, with 
 young Duplessis as Horace, came forward. They 
 began to act scenes from Les Horaces of Corneille. 
 They were both good actors, and they Avarmed up 
 as they proceeded in their parts. At last they got 
 to the grand scene, where Horace brings in the 
 swords of the three Curiaces. Horace begins : 
 
 "Ma soeur voici le bras qui senge nos deux frere?." 
 
 It was admirably rendered by Duplessis, but at 
 the close, where Camille makes the apostrophe to 
 "^Rorne,'^ and ends with her fearful malediction, 
 Katika seemed literally inspired. Her small audi- 
 ence were electrified ; her voice rang and thrilled 
 through every heart (she had studied from Rachel). 
 At the conclusion there was the greatest excitement ; 
 tlie Duplessis clapped and stamped and cried " en- 
 core,'' and "bravo," until they were all hoarse. 
 Even the Smiths and Clarks caught the enthusiasm. 
 It was a moment of triumph for Xatika ; but at last 
 the curtain closed positively before her, and people 
 were beginning to subside into a little more quiet, 
 when Panohi bounded out from behind the curtain, 
 dressed " as a young Bacchante,'^ Docteur Canonge 
 said. 
 
 She had simply tied a tanned wolf's skin around 
 her shoulders, over her vrliite frock, and put ou a 
 
ACTED CHARADES. 83 
 
 pair of ])ca(lGcI Iiulian moccasins on her little feet, 
 and tucked up lier skirts rather short, and let her 
 long, gold hair stream over her like a veil from 
 under her crown of leaves. She looked "?r/7(/" 
 enough, if rather an anachronism, as she sprancr 
 forth with her violin and bow in her hands and be- 
 gan to play the wildest, merriest tunes, flinging out 
 the funniest and most grotesque combinations of 
 notes. Everybody was suddenly seized with a fury 
 of dancing ; like the effect of the flute-player of the 
 Tannenhauser, Panola's wild music seemed to set 
 everybody crazy with fun. 
 
 Panola played jigs, reels. Highland flings, Italian 
 tarantelles. Her bow seemed to fly like a gleam 
 of liglit across the strings; at last she fell into the 
 tune of the ''Arkansas Traveller ; " she played it in 
 every key and with every modulation ; she made it 
 laugh, and cry, and whine, and jerk, and trill, and 
 quiver ; she played it single, and double, and triple, 
 and quadruple. Everybody was dancing, and laugh- 
 ing like mad people, until Panola saw that they 
 were absolutely exhausted, when gradually she 
 toned her music down till it quietly died away. She 
 disappeared suddenly behind the curtains again, 
 and the weary dancers sunk upon their chairs 
 breathless and gasping. 
 
 Mark had laughed till he cried, and sat now in his 
 chair wiping off the traces of tears from his cheeks. 
 His grandfather was very happy to see Mark laugh. 
 
84 PANOLA. 
 
 Lizbette announced the serving of the supper, 
 and Panola reappeared, grave and demure, dressed 
 agahi as she was in the early part of the evening. 
 Lizbette's gumbo and oysters were perfect. " The 
 mayonaise of red-fish and the salad " Docteur Can- 
 onge had prepared himself, he said ; so they were 
 beyond praise. Some cold roast turkey and a ham, 
 with p^tes, little cakes, and confitures, and some 
 delicious aspic jelly of white grapes, and oranges, 
 bananas and pineapples, with plenty of excellent 
 claret, a good cup of black coffee, and a pousse cafe 
 of a thimbleful of curagoa or strong Marischino, 
 concluded the menu. It was done full justice to, 
 and after supper everybody made their obeisances 
 to iSTatika, and thanked Docteur Canonge for their 
 "delightful evening,'' and they all went home. 
 
 As Judge Morgan rode home with young Smith 
 in his cabriolet he asked him about the different 
 people they had met, especially Madame Boiling, 
 about whom he seemed to have some curiosity. He 
 had been introduced to her, and had danced with 
 her, but by some accident had not been introduced 
 to her son. He spoke of her now carelessly, but 
 with evident interest. Smith knew very little about 
 her, as it was the first time he had met.any of the 
 neighbors ; his family had only recently moved 
 here. He told Judge Morgan that " she was a 
 half-sister of Major Flanoy, and the aunt of 
 Panola." 
 
ACTED CHARADES. 85 
 
 The judge sat meditating. "She canH be the 
 same person, I suppose," he said, at length, "else 
 she would certainly have recognized me as I did her. 
 She did not seem to know me at all ; but the woman 
 I speak of could not have forgotten me. Oh, no I 
 that would be an impossibility. I never saw such a 
 likeness in my life, though ! '' 
 
 " Where did you know anybody like Madame 
 Boiling?" inquired Smith, roused at last into a 
 faint curiosity. 
 
 "The woman I knew lived in ," replied 
 
 Morgan. " She was brought before me on a charge 
 of lunacy, a charge preferred by her own husband ; 
 but she came into court in her riding-liabit, and 
 stood up coolly in the box, tapping her little boot 
 with her whip while the indictment was being read 
 against her, and then, refusing the aid of any law- 
 yer, she defended herself most eloquently. It was 
 impossible to send her to an asylum. The jury gave 
 the verdict in her favor without quitting their seats. 
 Shortly after, the husband died, and she removed 
 from the State. After her departure I heard a good 
 many queer things about her, which rather puzzled 
 me. She certainly was strange, and extremely cruel, 
 I heard, to those in her power ; one of her slaves 
 hung herself to escape from the tyranny and, some 
 said, the torturing of her mistress. I don't know 
 how true the facts were, but they were dreadful ; 
 and if the woman was not insane, she was so wicked 
 
86 PANOLA. 
 
 she should have been killed as one would destroy a 
 noxious beast or reptile. Tliey said she poisoned 
 her husband, as well as other people. However, it 
 was long ago, and Mrs. Coolidge is probably dead 
 before this — " 
 
 " Mrs. Coolidge ! Why, there was a young man 
 there to-night named Coolidge. Did you not see 
 him ? " exclaimed Smith, wide awake now. 
 
 " No, I did not see him,'^ said Judge Morgan, 
 " but I am sorry I have to go off so early in the 
 morning, else I should really like to meet that 
 Madame Boiling again. She is a very handsome and 
 interesting woman, very handsome, indeed ! very 
 handsome ! '^ 
 
 " It was quite a success, Xatika,^' exclaimed Vic- 
 tor, as the last of the guests departed. "Confess 
 you have been often more bored in Madame Kon- 
 her's salons in Paris than at grandpapa's soiree to- 
 nio;ht." 
 
 " Well, it wasn't so bad," replied Xatika, with a 
 yawn, " but I am very sleepy." 
 
 "The little cotton blossom is a wonder," said 
 Victor. " Her music was like the boltl 
 
 " Hearty rhymes, 
 New revived 
 Music of Acharnse ; 
 Clioleric, fiery, quick 
 As the sparkle 
 From the charcoal 
 
NATIKA JACQUIMIX. 87 
 
 Of the native evergreen, 
 
 Knotted oak 
 
 In tlie smoke 
 Shows his active, fiery spleen, 
 Whilst beside 
 
 Stands the dish 
 
 Full of fish, 
 Ready to be fried." 
 
 Natika laughed. '^ Quote Aristophanes to a 
 Greek in her own tongue, Victor, if you can!" 
 
 " Frere is very resj)ectable,'' said Victor. 
 
 Docteur Canonge had caught the word " fisli." 
 So he said : " Oui, I sink de mayonaise teas ver' 
 good. I am glad you like him so much, Victor. 
 I made him myself! '' 
 
 CHxVPTER V. 
 
 NATIKA J A C Q U 1 M I X . 
 
 r I IHE father of Natika Jacquimin was a Greek, 
 -■- who came over on a trading expedition to 
 America, with his brothers, in a small merchant 
 ship, laden with dried fruits and wines from the 
 Levant. After they had made an advantageous 
 sale of their articles of traffic, it was decided among 
 the family of brothers, that the eldest of the four, 
 
88 PANOLA. 
 
 "John Neoptolemns," shoiikl remain in Kew Or- 
 leans, set up a small shop, which the family were to 
 keep supplied with fruits and wines, etc., while the 
 other three brothers were to return home for a fresh 
 cargo. John Xeoptolemus was a shrewd trader. 
 He spoke several tongues fluently, was clever and 
 insinuating. He prospered, made some money for 
 his brothers, and a great deal for himself In course 
 of time he extended his business, built a fine ware- 
 house, and became famous as a dealer in wines. He 
 speculated in cotton, in sugar, in stocks, in every- 
 thing; was fortunate, and grew^ to be a millionnaire. 
 At more than middle age he married the pretty 
 Miss Canonge, Avho died at the birth of Natika. 
 
 [N^atika was brought up chiefly by her aunt, iNIrs. 
 Burthe, who loved the little girl almost as much as 
 she did her only son, A'ictor, who was two years 
 younger than IS^atika. All three daughters of 
 Docteur Canonge, Mrs. Jacquimin, Mrs. Burthe 
 and Mrs. Boiling;;, seemed to be of delicate constitu- 
 tion, for they died off one after another, leaving the 
 already wddowed old docteur very lonely in the 
 world. He was very glad to get control of his 
 grandson, Mark Boiling, at the time of his son-in- 
 law Boiling's second marriage with Mrs. Coolidge. 
 Mark was a very precious treasure to the old man. 
 He had not seen very much of his other two grand- 
 children, though they were sent occasionally to visit 
 him by their respective parents and guardians. 
 
NATIKA JACQUIMIN. 80 
 
 Xatlka was a delicate cliild, partly perhaps from 
 being deprived of her mother's care at such an early 
 aire and also from over-indul":;ence in all her ca- 
 pricious tastes and wilful imjn'udences from the 
 time that she was conscious of possessing a will of 
 her own. licr aunt Burthe never said her nay, 
 and her fiither was too much absorbed in his busi- 
 ness to give much time to the bringing up of his 
 only child. He saw Xatika occasionally, either in 
 his own home, where she was intrusted to the care 
 of well-paid but careless servants, or at her aunt 
 Burthe's, where she spent most of her time. He 
 saw that she was exceedingly pretty and graceful, 
 intelligent and bright, and he Avas satisfied. 
 
 Natika was treated like a little queen in her 
 aunt's house ; and Victor was taught, from his ear- 
 liest years, to submit to her iniperiousness, and to 
 look upon her as a creature quite superior to or- 
 dinary human beings. Natika was very much 
 quicker in intellect than Victor. She had all the 
 readiness and suppleness which the long, back- 
 stretching generations of culture give to the pure 
 Greek mind. She was as versatile in her talents as 
 Alcibiades himself, and might have held her own 
 with an Aspasia, or a Deidamia, the gifted friend 
 of Socrates ; and with this Greek subtlety of nature 
 was combined the light, mercurial " chauvimisme " 
 of her mother's French blood. 
 
 Natika was true for the moment; but possession 
 
90 PANOLA. 
 
 of any coveted pleasure brought with it immediate 
 satiety and weariness. Nothing satisfied her ; she 
 found excitement in the pursuit, but never in the 
 attainment of her wishes. She was the true daugh- 
 ter of those Athenians who, as St. Paul says, " were 
 never wcarv to hear or to tell of some new thing:," 
 and yet this very versatility and changefulness gave 
 a piquancy and attraction to Katika which also 
 made of her a Cleopatra, whom age could not 
 wither nor custom stale in her infinite variety. The 
 truth of b_r momentary impulses made them 
 strangely fascinating, while her caprices tortured, 
 and her total lack of power of devotion and self-ab- 
 negation, qualities which seem to be essentially 
 womanly, made Natika a perpetual disappointment 
 and cause of anguish to all who really ,^oved her. 
 She was so unstable, and so fond of power, that 
 sometimes she seemed to be utterly merciless and 
 cold, when she was only weary. Intellectual pleas- 
 ures would have given her some sort of real satis- 
 faction ; but Xatika, while she would read all day 
 sometimes, and listen with clear understandins: to 
 any intellectual convei-sation, had never the steadi- 
 ness of purpose to study anything. AVhat she knew, 
 she picked up without trouble. She icould not be 
 troubled about anything! ^^It did not 'pay^^ she 
 said. 
 
 Any nouveaute amused her for a day; then it 
 wearied her ; then she hated it. She liad no con- 
 
NATIKA JACQUIMIN. 91 
 
 cc])tIon of duty, or of self-sacrifice. There were no 
 possibilities of any heroism in her. She was born 
 a Sybarite ; but an intellectual one, for there was no 
 coarseness in Xatika. Such as she was, she was pas- 
 sionately followed and adored by higher and better 
 natures than hers ever could become. But hiirh 
 and heroic deeds, even, would have wearied Xatika. 
 She did not like the demands such natures made upon 
 her — demands that it was utterly impossible for her 
 nature to meet satisfactorily. It was not in her to be 
 constant and to love nobly. Why should more be 
 demanded of any organization than it is capable of? 
 
 To Panola, Xatika felt an instinctive dislike. 
 She did not like her beauty. She did not like her 
 wonderful violin-playing. She did not like the 
 singleness and utter simplicity of manner, or the 
 semi-stoical nature, or the self-control and reticence 
 which were Panola's inheritance from her long: 
 generations of warrior ancestors. Xatika felt in- 
 stinctively the dawning possibilities of a heroism 
 and magnanimity in Panola that she herself was 
 incapable of; and she did not like her. Xeither 
 did she like the expression of Mark Boiling's face, 
 when he spoke of Panola ; nor Victor's loudly pro- 
 claimed admiration of her beauty; though he con- 
 fessed Panola had "no stijle^^ whatever. 
 
 Xatika's flither had been dead for several vears, 
 and she was left utterly unfettered by home-ties of 
 any sort at her majority. She had put her business 
 
92 PANOLA. 
 
 aflfliirs into the hands of responsible guardians, and 
 she had gone to Europe, where she lived the half- 
 Bedouin life of wandering Americans, changing her 
 residence from city to city as it suited her Avhim. 
 She had still relatives living in Greece, and one 
 uncle survived, who was a large banker in Constan- 
 tinople; and she had a cousin in trade in Cairo, 
 Egypt. She renewed her intercourse by letter with 
 these nearly forgotten relatives, and she frequently 
 threatened Victor with running away from the 
 " wearisome civilization of Europe," to take refuge 
 in the more lax conventionalisms of the East. The 
 life of a wandering tourist was too objectless to 
 satisfy Natika. She liked novelty; but she had no 
 sentimentality with any past, no respect for tradition 
 in any form, no reverence for anybody or any- 
 thing, and she hated the trouble of sight-seeing. She 
 liked people and society. She had been compelled 
 to visit America and her native State on account of 
 some business arrangements ; and while she was in 
 Louisiana, she thought she might as well pay her 
 grandfather Canonge a visit. So she had come. 
 And Victor, who had followed her from Europe to 
 New Orleans, followed her also to their grand- 
 father's. The gentle-hearted old man w^as overcome 
 with joy at seeing them. His expressions of de- 
 light and gratitude really awoke some response of 
 affection in the hearts of his selfish grandchildren, 
 Victor and Xatika. 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 93 
 
 Mark attracted them also. Natika was very glad 
 she had come to visit her grandfather, and she made 
 herself fascinatinij: and charming; to her crrandfather 
 and to her cousins. Her feelino-s to i\lark she 
 scarcely understood herself. Siie felt the nearest 
 approach to love, pure and unselfish, towards Mark, 
 that she ever was conscious of experiencing in all 
 her life. But she knew that any passion for Mark 
 was a foolish expenditure of sentiment. He could 
 never marry, as he was; and if he ever did, Xatika 
 feared that it would not be her that he would ask to 
 share his lot. She believed it might be Panola ! 
 She was wiser than Panola, and could read all the 
 signs of passion, even when repressed by Mark's 
 resolute will, and she did not like Panola any the 
 better for that. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 
 
 MARK was sitting in his usual place by his 
 study table, busily reading a medical work 
 which the servant, by his direction, had brought 
 to him out of his grandfather's fine library. Old 
 Docteur Cauonge had a passion for books, was a 
 
94 PANOLA. 
 
 great render himself, and a good writer in his own 
 language. He had written much for medical works 
 and reviews, and he was also a good bookbinder. 
 His father, an emigre of distinction from the 
 troublous times in France, had had his son carefully 
 instructed in this trade, while he gave him oppor- 
 tunities of improvement in his professional studies. 
 He said : " It was very well to be Monsieur the 
 Marquis de Canonge ; but the Docteur Canonge and 
 the bookbinder Canonge could make bread for him- 
 self when the ]\larquis could not." So the old 
 docteur had kept up for amusement the trade his 
 father had taught him in prudent care for the future. 
 His library was therefore not only beautiful in con- 
 tents, but it was likewise beautiful in exterior; for 
 he had rebound every vol a me nearly with his own 
 careful hands, and his books, next to Mark, were 
 the pride of his life. 
 
 Mark sat reading for some hours, undisturbed by 
 voice or noise. There was no sound except the 
 pleasant sighing of the wind in the great tree-tops, 
 and the singino- of the innumerable birds with 
 which the country abounds. High above all and 
 through all was heard the gush of irrepressible joy 
 which flows in a liquid melody (almost perpetually, 
 it seems) from the throats of the mocking-birds. 
 Docteur Canonge petted the birds ; he never allowed 
 them to be disturbed, and they were not timid in his 
 grounds, where a shot was never fired, out of con- 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 95 
 
 sideration for them. So it was a sort of bird para- 
 dise, where they loved and quarrelled and fouglit 
 and sung all day and all night long. The sound 
 of cattle bells, the lowing of cows, the bleating of 
 sheep, and all the lovely country tones, came softened 
 from the distant pastures and farm-yards ; and oc- 
 casionally the merry laugh of a good-humored 
 negro as he wended his way past the house, in ex- 
 changing homely compliments with Lizbette, would 
 reach Mark's ear as he sat reading in his lonely 
 chamber. 
 
 The day was far advanced into tlie afternoon 
 when Victor came in, flushed from riding. He 
 flung his hat and whip on one chair, and himself on 
 another. Mark good-humoredly looked uj) from 
 his book ; he was fond of Victor. 
 
 "Had a pleasant ride, Victor?" he asked. 
 
 "Very pleasant, indeed. I went over to see 
 IVIiss Flanoy and the Duplessis, ^all zie families Du- 
 I'dessisj " said Victor, laughingly imitating his grand- 
 father. " What merry people they are ! None but 
 French people could live that way — all on one 
 place, in those little, separate cottages clustered 
 around Monsieur Duplessis pere\s house! Just like 
 the old Trojans — king Priam and his family ! They 
 are so harmonious and perfectly content. Ameri- 
 cans or English would quarrel. It is because the 
 French are so courteous to each other in their daily 
 life. An American or Englishman thinks it not 
 
96 PANOLA. 
 
 worth while to be so polite, or to pay amiable things 
 to members of his own family. He is half ashamed 
 of his best sentiments, and only parades his disagree- 
 able ones ; while a Frenchman expresses his emo- 
 tions, and is not ashamed to love or be polite every 
 day, ' as well as on holy days.' '' 
 
 " I believe there is a good deal of truth in what 
 you say, but it is partly because the Englishman or 
 American is afraid of being dishonest or false, and 
 of exaggeration in his sentiments. But perhaps it 
 is the better fault, if I may say so, to err in excess 
 of appearance of amiability, even if it be not entirely 
 sincere. I believe with Bain, in his ' Psychology,' 
 that the cultivation of our moral or any other 
 mode or quality of thought or character, is vitally 
 important, and if we keep a resolute habit of cheer- 
 fulness and of amiability, it will gradually become 
 strong and confirmed in us to a real involuntary 
 quality of mind or manner." 
 
 "So, then, you believe conscience is not innate, 
 but an educated proclivity of the rational soul, 
 Mark ? '' said Victor, sententiously, laughing with 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Yes. "While I think that one receives from the 
 circumstances of birth a proclivity to understand 
 right or wrong, the true way to acquire moral sense 
 is to do the thing that is right," replied Mark, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Then if one dees habitually wrong, one blunts 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 97 
 
 his conscience until at last he won't have any," per- 
 sisted Victor. 
 
 " Pretty much so, I think. We generally end in 
 being what we only seem at first." 
 
 "Kather hard lines on a poor fellow like mo, 
 Mark," said Victor, laughing. " I fear I am dete- 
 riorating dreadfully and will soon be worse off than 
 Peter Schlemil was without his shadow, if I lose 
 all my conscience ! I don't half like the prospect." 
 
 " Every evil action you do, Victor, blunts your 
 moral sense and degrades you as an ^ intelligent,' as 
 Kant calls it," insisted Mark. 
 
 " Confound it, don't preach, ]\Iark," said Victor, 
 springing up. " You make a fellow feel bad. 
 Nobody wishes to be degraded in his humanity 
 because he gives way a little to youthful folly now 
 and then." 
 
 " It is not I — it is the Nemesis of fixed laws of 
 sequence that 2)ronounces the doom, Victor," said 
 Mark. " You know yourself that the muscles and 
 nerves you use the most are the strongest. It is so 
 in mental and moral life." 
 
 "Ah, bah ! " said Victor. " Let me tell you 
 about my ride, and the fair Panola. It is surpris- 
 ing what a beauty that little pale white creature has 
 developed into. I had quite an eventful ride. 
 Just as I came in sight of the place I met Cherokee 
 Joe lounging along the road, his blanket stra[)ped 
 around him, and his riile on his shoulder, with a 
 6 
 
08 PANOLA. 
 
 couple of mangy curs at his heels. He was going 
 out to shoot on the prairie. I stopped to ask him 
 about the shooting. He says there are plenty of 
 blue and green winged teal, and snipe too, frequent- 
 ing on what he calls * the ponds/ scattered about in 
 this interminable prairie. How long is this prairie 
 land? Where does it end ? Has it a beginning? 
 I am inclined to doubt if it has. It is prairie, 
 prairie, everywhere, as far as I can see, with those 
 little spots of woods that fringe the aforesaid ' ponds ' 
 in the low places, which are nothing but the drain- 
 age places of this prairie.^' 
 
 ^' The prairie extends over two hundred miles," 
 said Mark, " back to the Sabine river, the division 
 line between Louisiana and Texas. It begins in 
 the lowlands on the Mississippi river. Then comes 
 the 'Cotes Gelees,' which are rather more undulating 
 than the lowlands; then the flat rolling prairie of 
 the Attakapas region — a real sea of grass, green and 
 billowy, not of sage brushes, like the northern and 
 western prairies, and there are an immense number of 
 those 'ponds,' as you call them, scattered all through 
 it ; famous spots for ducks and snipe, I know." 
 
 " Joe said," continued Victor, " that there were 
 plenty of partridges, too, on the prairie. I shall go 
 out soon and try my luck at them. What a queer 
 fellow that Joe is, Mark ! A real Indian. Pie 
 seems much more adapted to the outward gear of the 
 Indian as he was to-day, than when he accompanies 
 
CnEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 99 
 
 the fair Panola as an escort in modern toggery. 
 An Indian should never give up his blanket. lie 
 wears that or dressed skins with grace. He looks 
 worse without it than a Roman senator without his 
 toga. The blanket belongs to the Indian, and the 
 variegated head handkerchief to the African, and 
 the turban to the Orientals ! They never look well 
 without these adjuncts. I may as well smoke while 
 we talk," and Victor drew out his cigar case, 
 selected a cigar for Mark and one for himself, took 
 out a small silver match-box, lighted his cigar, then 
 offered it to Mark to light his from. 
 
 These important operations were performed in 
 silence and solemnity. Then after a few prepara- 
 tory puffs from both, Victor began again. " Well, 
 as I was saying, I met Joe swinging himself in that 
 Indian trot, putting one foot straight before the 
 other, and glancing, in that quick, suspicious, rest- 
 less way they all have of looking, on every side of 
 him. By the way, Mark, that is the only thing that 
 spoils Panola. She even has retained that restless, 
 rapid glancing of the eyes, though in her it reminds 
 one of the quick, bright eyes of the water-fowl, like 
 the kingfisher. Joe, confound his ugly phiz, looks 
 more like an old, suspicious, gaunt wolf. Well, Joe 
 and I had quite a bng talk. At least I talked and 
 Joe said 'ugh' with a wonderful variety of inflec- 
 tions in his grunts. It is almost a vocabulary in 
 itself, the ' ugh ' of an Indian. I asked Joe if Miss 
 Panola was at home. 
 
100 PANOLA. 
 
 " ' Panola stay home to-day/ said the unceremo- 
 nious Indian, ignoring the title of Miss' entirely. 
 * Joe go hunt. Panola stay with mother, with 
 Chicora.'^' 
 
 *'Yes. That's Mrs. Flanoy's Indian name/' put 
 in Mark, taking his cigar out of his lips to give 
 vent to a puff of smoke. 
 
 " What does it mean ? These are delicious 
 Havanas, I declare! See how long the ash holds 
 on to the end of the cigar. We never get such in 
 Europe." 
 
 "I really believe (puff) that I prefer (puff) a 
 Powhatan pipe with good perrique," replied Mark, 
 with intervals of smoke between his words. " It 
 means (puff) 'Jlocldng Bird,^ or, as it is in full 
 Cherokee, ^ Chicora Chee-squah-con-nau-gee-tah' — 
 ' The bird that sing the best.' — Chicora was famous 
 for her beauty and singularly sweet voice — a qual- 
 ity of voice often found in Indian women." 
 
 "Well, this 'mocking-bird' that I saw to-day 
 was quite different from her sisters in the tree 
 branches about her house. Her singing and danc- 
 ing is all done for. She is rather a dusky old bird 
 
 now." 
 
 "Chicora! Why, I tliink her still beautiful. 
 What a fellow you are, Victor/' said Mark, half- 
 smiling, in spite of himself " You ought to feel 
 sympathy for that poor afflicted woman. Anybody 
 else would." 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 101 
 
 " So I am, dreadfully sorry. Panola is so very 
 pretty. Well, Joe said Panola would stay with 
 Chicora to-day. 'Chicora velly bad/ said Joe, 
 shakin^x his wild Indian locks solemnly, and reo;ard- 
 ing me with a curious, half-questioning look out 
 of his contracted eyes. Ilis pupils gleamed out 
 like a black lynx's. Indians are not evolved yet 
 wholly out of fierce beasts into perfect humanity. 
 'Chicora not move hands now any more,' and will 
 you believe it, Mark, the fellow's keen eyes actually 
 twinkled through tears that he would not let fall. 
 
 "MVhat do you mean, eloe?' I asked, beginning 
 to feel somewhat alarmed about going to the house. 
 ' Is .]\Irs. Flanoy ill ? Are you afraid she is going 
 to die ? ' 
 
 "'No, Chicora not die to-day — not yet — she die 
 bime-by. Hands stiif now. Soon head get stiff, 
 then heart get stiff, and Chicora die. Joe sorry, 
 Joe much sorry for Chicora. Satana be velly 
 sorry. He like Chicora heap — plenty much. 
 Tribe be sorry ; all Cherokecs cry ; plenty, heap ! 
 Ugh!' 
 
 *' 'What's the matter with Mrs. Flanoy, Joe?' 
 
 " ' Joe not know. Canonge he not know. Xo- 
 body know. Kana say " conj ure." You know 
 Nana, Victor Burthe.' 
 
 "'No, Joe, I have not that honor. Who is 
 Nana?' 
 
 "'Nana ole nigger 'ooman, hundred year ole — go 
 
102 PANOLA. 
 
 so!' And Joe bent himself down nearly double, 
 and crept feebly forward, imitating the old crone. 
 He has talent, has Joe. Then he straightened him- 
 self upright, and spat upon the earth, in token of 
 his intense disgust, and said ^ugh,' scornfully. 
 How Indians do hate negroes, Mark." 
 
 " Yes ! Mrs. Flanoy will only use white ser- 
 vants about her person.'' 
 
 " Well ! This primitive gentleman — for Joe has 
 all the characteristics of a gentleman, you know : 
 he hates work, and loves sport and idleness — " 
 
 ^'And whiskey," put in Mark. 
 
 '' Yes, and whiskey, as much as any Scotch or 
 Irish gentleman of high degree. This noble red 
 man gave me to understand that Nana was a witch; 
 that she ought to be killed, but there was no way 
 to scalp her, as she hadn't a hair on her old bald 
 head ; and that it would be of no use to kill her, for 
 she could chano-e herself into anvthino- she chose — a 
 cat, or dog, or even into a snake, and then reassume 
 her human form — that she was much petted, and 
 noticed by ^ Madame Boiling.' 
 
 "^You know Madame Boiling?' asked Joe, 
 looking queerly up into my face, as I sat above him 
 on my horse. 
 
 " I told him ' I had that felicity.' ' Ugh !' said 
 Joe, puzzled by the word felicity. ' Ugh ! you likee 
 Madame Boiling velly much, Victor Burthe?' 
 
 " I told him I was passionately devoted to her in 
 her absence. 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 103 
 
 " Joe looked at mc. * Ugh/ he said. lie did 
 not quite comprehend my meaning. Then he 
 put his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a very- 
 dirty purse made of deer-skin. He opened it, took 
 out a couple of papers. One had a fine white powder 
 in it. Joe handed it up to me. 
 
 "'What that?' he asked. 'You know, Victor 
 Burthe?' 
 
 " I smelled the paper, looked at the powder, took 
 the least particle possible of it on my finger tip, and 
 touched my tongue with it, being very careful to 
 spit it out, you may be sure." 
 
 " That was very foolish, Victor. It might have 
 been arsenic or morphine,'' interrupted Mark. 
 
 " Well, the Indian wanted to know, and how the 
 
 d 1 was I to tell hira unless I examined? " said 
 
 Victor, lightly. " However my rashness caused no 
 harm, for it was only tartar emetic, and I told Joe 
 it was that. 
 
 *' 'You makee him lemonade?' asked the Indian. 
 I suppose he had heard of cream of tartar lopion- 
 ade. 
 
 "'Good Lord, no,' I said, ^maJce lemonade! Why 
 it would kill you; make you sick; it is medicine.' 
 Then I explained to Joe how it was used. Joe lis- 
 tened attentively, his face bent down over the paper 
 of powder. 
 
 " ' Canonge, he give it ? ' asked Joe. 
 
 " I said I supposed he did often give it. 
 
104 PANOLA. 
 
 "^Ugh/ said Joe, and he put the paper, carefully 
 ■^Trapped up, back iuto his old dirty purse, as if it 
 was })recious. 
 
 " ^ You had better throw it away, Joe,' I said. 
 
 " ^ No, Joe not throw away. Joe take to Satana, 
 bime-by. Ugh.' 
 
 "I wonder w^hat the chief wall do with such a 
 present? Then Joe opened another little paper 
 which had some peas in it. 
 
 "'What that?' said the foolish Indian, pouring 
 the peas into my hand. 
 
 " * That? Why those are peas.' 
 
 " ' What good for ? Medicine too ? ' 
 
 "^No. Good to eat, you silly fellow, like all 
 other peas.' 
 
 ' ' ' Ugh ! You likee eat peas? Joe give you some.' 
 And he took a small parcel of them, and gav^e them 
 to me. ' Eatee some, Victor Burthe ! ' 
 
 " ' Xo, I thank you, Joe. When I eat peas I like 
 them cooked, not raw.^ 
 
 " *Ugh ! ' Joe folded up his peas in his piece of 
 paper and put them into his purse. ' Joe take to 
 Satana,' said Joe, thoughtfully. * Ugh ! got any 
 whiskey, Victor Burthe ? ' 
 
 " I told him I had not, but I gave him a couple 
 of cigars and a half dollar to buy whiskey, and Joe 
 shouldered his gun, and with a parting * ugh ' he 
 trotted off, and I galloped on. 
 
 "Well, I had already passed the little place called 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 105 
 
 the Pavilion, where Mrs. Boiling lives now ; you 
 know it is just outside the Flanoy place, not more 
 than a stone's throw from the gates ; you remember 
 the yard runs down to the road of this aforesaid 
 Pavilion. AVhat a small affair it is in the way of a 
 house ! " 
 
 " It has four rooms in it/' said ^lark, '^ and is 
 built, like all the other houses in this county, of one 
 story. "We can't build high, you know, on account 
 of the strong winds which blow over this prairie 
 country, coming from the Gulf of Mexico; they 
 would blow dowu lofty houses." 
 
 ^^ AVell, it looks very modest, but is snug enough, 
 I dare say, and large enough too, for Madame 
 Boiling's requirements. It is rather picturesque, 
 with the luxuriant vines trained on wires all around 
 the verandah. I had already got past, when I was 
 hailed by Antony Coolidge, who was standing at 
 the gate, with his arms folded on the top of it, like 
 ' Yankee Doodle dandy.' " 
 
 " ' Who swung upon the gates, 
 And licked 'lasses candy,' " 
 
 laughed Mark. 
 
 " Yes, exactly, barring the candy. Unfortunately 
 for the rhyme, on this occasion Yankee Doodle was 
 smoking a cigarette. He invited me to stop, and as 
 I had no good reason for declining his invitation, 
 and wasn't pressed for time, I concluded I would 
 get off my horse for a minute. I don't dislike 
 
106 PANOLA. 
 
 Antony, at least comparatively speaking : he is less 
 disagreeable to me than liis mainnia, that ^ veuve 
 charmante/ as our respected and beloved progeni- 
 tor calls her. The truth was I wanted to see the 
 inside of * the shebang.' " 
 
 " For goodness sake, Victor, don't use so much 
 slang. AVhy can't you talk respectably decent Eng- 
 lish, or French, if you like?" said Mark, smiling. 
 
 " Because I am talking American and about 
 American people ; very truly and positively Ameri- 
 can people. Aboriginal Americans, like the fair 
 Panola and the old Mocking Bird," replied the incor- 
 rigible Victor. " I shall tell my story in my own 
 style, Mark, if you choose to listen, and, unlike the 
 amiable Scherazade, I detest interruptions, especially 
 when they are criticisms." 
 
 "On with you then, you incorrigible fellow,'^ 
 said ]\Iark, good-huraoredly. "You accepted An- 
 tony's invitation and went into the — " 
 
 "Shebang," interposed Victor. "It w^as really 
 beautiful in the verandah ; it was literally cur- 
 tained in with an enormous bean vine, a lineal 
 descendant of Jack's bean-stalk." 
 
 " It is a cork-screw bean. They do grow to a 
 most extraordinary size here," interrupted Mark. 
 
 "This one fellow twisted himself all around the 
 verandah, and was hanging thick with the greatest 
 profusion of purple and yellow flowers, and the 
 perfume was nearly overpowering, it was so strong. 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 107 
 
 Antony took me inside. It is very nice inside tlie 
 house too. AVe found that jNIadanie ^Icre was in 
 the garden. So we went out there. The house was 
 filled with pets — dogs and cats and canary birds." 
 
 " The African nature delights in pets," observed 
 Mark, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Precisely! oh, supreme wonder among psycho- 
 logists," said Victor, waving his cigar towards 
 !Mark. " There was also a green parrot who swore 
 astonishingly in French. Does your stepmother 
 indulge in that luxury also, Mark ?" 
 
 " Pshaw," said Mark, not deigning to resent the 
 impertinent inquiry. 
 
 "Ah," said Victor, giving a long puff, and then 
 knocking the ash from the end of his cigar, where it 
 had been tenaciously accumulating. " If she doiit, 
 where did the parrot learn f However, w^e got into 
 the garden, a very pretty little garden back of the 
 house, and there we found your highly revered 
 stepmother in a house dress, with a broad straw flat 
 tied down over her head ; and quite liandsome she 
 looked, and unusually wicked was the glance of her 
 strange eyes. I wish they had more gradation in 
 the color of the pupil : the dead black on the dead 
 white of the ball gives a reptilish expression to that 
 woman that all her splendor of color am't over- 
 come. I believe, Mark, in transmigration of life 
 upwards, am half a Darwinian, and I am convinced, 
 Mark, that your adorable stepmother came up into 
 
108 PANOLA. 
 
 humanity through the snakes ; she ^yas once either 
 a cobra di caj^ella or a flat-headed viper/' 
 
 "Oh, Victor! Victor!" 
 
 " Truth, ]\Iark ! I must speak truth to yon, 
 even though the sky should talk ^I can't tell a lie, 
 father,' as the father of his country did never say. 
 Well, the buxom dame was all smiles and welcome. 
 She was superintending the work of a negro man, 
 who was spading some ground in which she was 
 about to plant some seeds. Bending over one of 
 the drills already laid out was the old negress 
 Nana. I recognized her from Joe's personation. 
 If she is not ' a hundred,' as he said, she must be 
 pretty near it. I never saw such an old toothless 
 hag in my life, so wrinkled; you know, negroes 
 don't wrinkle like other people. They are very old 
 when the skin crumples up. This old creature hadn't 
 a hundredth part of an inch smooth on her face. She 
 w^ould have been an admirable study for a modern 
 Andrew Denner : vou know what a devotion he 
 had for painting wrinkles ! She looked like a min- 
 iature rhinoceros, with her crumpled skin ; and she 
 had got to be so old, she was a sort of ashen-black- 
 gray in hue; all the humanity had burnt out of her, 
 Mark, ages ago! I think she probably lived in the 
 period of Xineveh ! She looked every day of it ! 
 Do you know, Mark — it is a fact, I have been 
 assured so upon excellent authority — that people 
 live so long, sometimes, that the human soul dies 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 109 
 
 out, and then they exist only from animal vital 
 forces. If Nana ever had a soul, whicli I doubt 
 holdmg with you and Herbert Spencer, and 
 Spnioza, et als., tJiat the soul or mind is only a 
 development, a gradual building up from *the 
 experiences of ourselves and others, the concen- 
 trated sum of the collected knowledge of past gen- 
 erations, plus ourselves — " 
 
 "In that case Nana should have had a pretty 
 large soul," interpolated Mark, gravely, with his 
 eyes twinklinof. 
 
 "I have already told you she had burnt up her 
 souV replied Victor, seriously; "that's in accord- 
 ance with your deterioration theory, you know' 
 She has been such a wucked old wretch that she has 
 acquired a habit of wickedness. The lo-ic is inex- 
 pugnable ! I believe that Nana, according to my 
 theory of transmigration, Avas once'a hyena, 
 
 * Where Afric's golden fountains 
 Eoll o'er her sunny plains.' '' 
 
 ^Miere Afric's siivtiy fountains 
 Roll o'er lier (julden plains,' " 
 
 suggested Mark. "You never quote correctly, 
 V let or.'' "^ ' 
 
 ^Victor shook liis fist menacinglv at Mark. 
 Criticisms are tabooed," said Victor "This 
 everlasting flower, of Africa's Hesperidean crarden 
 whom Death and Time have forgotten, was cnc^a.^ed 
 
110 PANOLA. 
 
 in stickinG: small boles in the Q-round with the end 
 of a pointed reed. She did it venomously, ]\Iark, 
 as if she was sticking the sharp point into the heart 
 of an enemy ; and when I bent over to see what she 
 was planting, behold ! they were the identical peas, 
 or the same sort at least, that Cherokee Joe had 
 shown to me a half-hour previously. I understood 
 at once the foolish fellow's superstition about the 
 innocent peas. He saw old Nana planting them, 
 and he believed them to be uncanny." 
 
 " Probably," said Mark. 
 
 "Madame Boiling saw my notice of old Xana's 
 work: ^Are you fond of flowers, Mr. Burthe?' she 
 said ; 'J am passionately so, especially of strong- 
 scented ones ! Don't you like the sweet pea ? It is 
 a favorite of mine. Let me make a bouquet for you 
 to give to my niece, Panola, as you say you will 
 ride in that direction presently.' 
 
 "So saying, she gathered me a bouquet; very gay 
 it was, and the strongest-smelling that ever I had ; 
 then, as I declined her invitation to remain to 
 luncheon, I took the bouquet and bade her good 
 day. As soon as I got out of sight of Antony, I 
 stuck the end of my whip into the flowers, and 
 hoisted them up on top of a small thorn tree, and 
 left them to waste their sweetness there. I would 
 not have transported those flowers to Panola for 
 five thousand dollars. I know they were 'conjuring 
 flowers,' for old Nana planted them and Mrs. Bol- 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. Ill 
 
 ling gathered them ; and slie has an 'evil eye/ you 
 know, Mark; I do think so." 
 
 " Pish ! " ejaculated Mark ; " what folly ! '' 
 "Well, after all these delays, I at last reached the 
 gates of the enchanted castle — Mrs. Flanoy^s large, 
 wide-spreading, hospitable mansion, of which Liz- 
 bette says, * Every room opens charmingly on the 
 gallery, and it has twenty rooms.' I think it covers 
 an acre and a half of ground, on a moderate calcu- 
 lation. It is quite handsome, and altogether civil- 
 ized and Christian-like, not at all on the wigwam 
 orderof architecture, as I had half expected it to be. 
 Indeed the salon was really French in its fittings-up, 
 but I am not upholsterer enough to describe it, 
 secmndiim artem. A neat, well-dressed, white foot- 
 man received my card, and conducted me through 
 the wide, cool hall into a side-gallery, and at length 
 into a pretty salon, in which I found Mademoiselle 
 Panola, who came forward to greet me. Then she 
 led me up to a large lounge, on which lay a figure 
 that might have been carved out of stone, so motion- 
 less was it. A rose-colored, silk quilt, filled with 
 eider-down, lay spread over it up to the throat, and 
 above the quilt, looking as if it was disconnected 
 with any body, visible or invisible, lay a head. 
 Good Lord! what a head! All the fire, force 
 vitality and strength of a whole human life was 
 concentrated into that face; the whole body was 
 dead but that ; the eyes, large, dark and sad, but 
 
112 PANOLA. 
 
 with a preternatural lustre, showed a tremendous 
 will, a concentration of the essence of an immense 
 physical nature. I shall nev^er forget those eyes and 
 that face! The features are not unlike Panola's: 
 the same firm, delicate outline; the slightly aquiline 
 nose ; the mouth, originally sweet and haughty, like 
 Panola's, now compressed into thinness by intense 
 strain of will. It was the incarnation of will — 
 defiant will — and yet with a queer, sad beauty. The 
 eyes looked up into mine with an eager, wistful, 
 hungry gaze, and with such a magnetic power that 
 it seemed to me I felt my soul swaying under 
 the magic of the glance ! Such passion, such 
 self-mastery, such pride! God! it was terrible! 
 I stood dumb before her ; when, at last, the lips 
 moved, and a voice with the sound of music itself 
 said: ^You are welcome, Mr. Burthe!' Twenty 
 years ago, when that woman was young, Mark, few 
 men's hearts would not have yielded to the magic 
 of that voice and that face. Her complexion is not 
 white or satiny, like Panola's, but it is a rich, 
 whitish pink with a bronze glow through it ; and 
 her cheeks and lips, perhaps from disease, near the 
 red of the pomegranate flower. But her eyes ! they 
 are the wonder! Oh! that splendid, noble, impris- 
 oned, womanly soul ! God ! Mark ! you don't 
 know how I longed to help that woman ! She lay 
 there as if under the spell of some enchantment, 
 with none to help her. I sj^oke lightly of her, 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 113 
 
 Mark, when we began to talk, but you sec I do not 
 feel lightly. I can coniprehond Joe's devotion, and 
 the deep love of all around her — even of Sataua, 
 the chief! One could adore her! She seemed to 
 like me. 
 
 " I stayed fully an hour there, talking to her 
 and to Panola ; and I took lunch there. Panola 
 played wonderful things on her Straduarius, and I 
 sung a good deal ; Mrs. Flanoy asked me, and I 
 was very glad to do it. I don't know when I should 
 have got away, but one of the footmen came in 
 with a note on a silver tray, which he presented 
 ceremoniously to Panola. 
 
 " 'It is for you, mamma,' said Panola. 
 
 " It was addressed to Mrs. ^laria Josepha Flanoy, 
 so you see she is not the ' Mocking-bird ' to every- 
 body." 
 
 "Xo," said Mark; "she has been christened 
 ^laria Josepha." 
 
 ''Well, then, I rode home as fast as I could. As I 
 passed the thorn tree, I saw that a very curious 
 crow had picked my evil bouquet off the branch, 
 and having it now on the ground, was conveniently 
 tearing^ it into frao-ments with his beak and claws. 
 He gave an ominous caw as I approached, and flew 
 away like a bad, black spirit ; and you now behold 
 me here. Here endeth the narration of Victor, the 
 son of Victor, the son of Philippe, the son of — " 
 
 "Spare the genealogy!" cried Mark, holding 
 7 
 
114 PANOLA. 
 
 up his hands in entreaty, as Victor paused to take 
 breath. Victor replied by singing exquisitely: 
 
 " Tliere be none of beauty's daughters 
 With a face like thee ; 
 And like music on the waters 
 Is thy voice to me." 
 
 Whilst singing, he rose and walked out of the 
 room, saying he would go look for Natika. 
 
 "She's gone out to drive with grandfather," 
 called out Mark after him, as he disappeared through 
 the doorway. 
 
 In a few moments the door opened, and Victor 
 put in his head again. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you that, as I returned, I 
 made a detour through the village to get our mail 
 matter, and as I came back, who should I see in the 
 midst of the highway, surrounded by a group of 
 laughing children and idle men, but Cherokee Joe ; 
 who had spent my half dollar in getting gloriously 
 drunk. There the poor fellow was in high glee, 
 singing a wild Indian song, boastful of his triumphs 
 in love and war, I suppose, from the pantomime 
 with which he accompanied it. He danced the war- 
 dance, hopping slowly and solemnly, first on one leg 
 and then on the other, round and round in a circle ; 
 then stopping suddenly, he gave a swift run for- 
 ward, scatterino^ the children riirht and left as he 
 dashed through them ; seizing his hatchet, which 
 
CHEROKEE JOE SUSPECTS. 115 
 
 was swinging by a leather tliong to his girdle, he 
 brandislicd it fiercely; putting one hand to his 
 mouth, he gave utterance to a tremendous war- 
 whoop, and threw the hatchet as he sprang forward, 
 with immense force. It flew past my head, and 
 struck a tree at which he seemed to have aimed it. 
 I should not liked to have been the tree! Then he 
 cauirht a lonsj blow-s^un out of the hands of one of 
 the little children, who had been playing with it — 
 some one had taken his own rifle away from him, 
 for fear of mischief, I suppose. He seized the blow- 
 gun, and lifting it to his mouth, the arrow whizzed 
 past me, and struck into the tree just above the 
 hatchet. You never saw truer shots. Theu he 
 looked around for admiration and applause, de- 
 lighted at the children's notice and laughter, which 
 he esteemed to be complimentary. Catching sight 
 of me, his mood seemed to change to a softer one, 
 or perhaps the maudlin stage was coming on. So, 
 singing some Indian words, in which I distinguished 
 the sounds of Chicora and Panola, he sat himself 
 down on a bank by the roadside under the shade of 
 the hedge, and began to weep, swaying his body to 
 and fro, in sort of cadenccd lament ; occasionally 
 giving utterance to a prolonged howl that was 
 unearthly. Then he grew stupid ; lying down 
 on the grass, he fell asleeji, and there I left 
 him." 
 
 " He is very strong,'' said Mark. " I have seen 
 
116 PANOLA. 
 
 him often bend a bar of very thick iron in his 
 hands, as if it were only wire.'^ 
 
 "Well, a nap in the open air will refresh hira. 
 Poor wretch ! one can scarcely believe hini to be of 
 the same race as Panola and that grand Chicora.'' 
 
 " The blood of the Netherlander has something 
 to do with Panola/^ said Mark. " Chicora is only 
 a half-breed.'^ 
 
 "If there are any more like Chicora, in her 
 tribe," said Victor, "it would be worth while 
 mounting hunting-shirts and moccasins, and living 
 in a wigwam, to see such a woman as she must have 
 been in her full youth and health. Now, senhor, 
 truly, adios ! '' said the volatile Victor. 
 
 " Vaya con Dios," responded !Mark, gayly. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MUCH-MARRIED LIZBETTE. 
 
 DOCTEUR CAXOXGE stood in the library, 
 stirring slowly with his spoon the cup of 
 smoking^-hot coffee which Lizbette had sent to him. 
 He had been up nearly all the night previous with 
 a poor sick neighbor, and he looked rather paler 
 and thinner and more cadaverous than usual, though 
 
MUCH-MARRIED LIZBETTE. 117 
 
 Ills smile was as sweet as the sunshine itself, which 
 was pouring in a flood of golden light through the 
 open window near which the gentle old man was 
 standing, talking to Mark and Victor. Natika 
 came in. " Grandpapa," she exclaimed, " I want 
 you to drive with me to see Mrs. Flanoy this morn- 
 ing ; can't you?" 
 
 Docteur Canonge smiled. *^ I haf leetle doubt 
 zat I willy Natika, if you so desire. I did tink of 
 finishing my article on comparative mythologie zis 
 morning for zie Academic Fran9aise; but zat can 
 wait. I shall also be ver' glad to ccHisulte Chicora 
 about zie Cherokee version of zie myth zat I now 
 am attempting to explain." 
 
 "And what is that, grandpapa ? " said Xatika. 
 
 *' It is zie pretty leetle story of Bo-peep and her 
 sheep zat she did lose." 
 
 "And how do you explain that, grandpapa?" 
 
 " I have traced zis leetle myth through many of 
 zie derivative languages from zie Aryan, among all 
 zie people of zat blood and race ; and I have con- 
 clude zat zis leetle myth represent zie dawn as usual 
 wiz her clouds, which were often called 'sheep.'" 
 
 "Yes," interrupted Victor, "Shelley speaks of 
 them — the clouds ' shepherded by the wind.' " 
 
 " Yes. I am much obliged, Victor, for zie sug- 
 gestion of zose lines of Shelley." 
 
 " But what about the ' tails ' of Bo-peep's sheep ?" 
 asked Xatika, gayly. " Clouds have none." 
 
118 PANOLA. 
 
 "Yes, they have/' interposed Mark. "Sailors 
 call those sweeping, streaky clouds, ' mares' tails.''' 
 
 " Yes," said Docteur Canonge, nodding his head 
 a})proviugly. 
 
 "But,'' remonstrated Natika, "those are rain 
 clouds, not dawn clouds ; or at any rate they are 
 foretellers of rain." 
 
 Docteur Canonge's face fell. 
 
 " But," suggested Mark, " it is all one. It may 
 be meant that Bo-peep's dawn was not a clear one." 
 
 Docteur Canono;e looked bricrhter. 
 
 "I think," said Victor, " the myth meant the sun 
 and stars, especially comets, which have tails." 
 
 "But they don't lose them," said Natika. 
 
 " Xo, but they may be obscured," observed ]\rark, 
 " for a time ; that would accord with the story as it 
 is told. They are seemingly dissipated for a time." 
 
 " Zie Ingins say zat it was not sheep, but a herd 
 of buffaloes, zat zie leetle Bo-peep was guarding, an' 
 zat zie buffaloes or bisons did make zie stampede an' 
 sliake zie earth till it was great earthquake, and zey 
 did lose zeir tails." 
 
 " Shook 'em off, I suppose," said Victor, laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 "About zat I am not certain," replied Docteur 
 Canonge, gravely. " I will ask Chicora." 
 
 Mark smiled and shook his head at Victor, who 
 was laughing. Mark was very tender of his grand- 
 father's crotchets. 
 
MUCH-MARRIED LIZBETTE. 119 
 
 "But, as regards zose comets' tails — ah, yes," 
 said the old docteur, pursing his lips thoughtfully 
 as he spoke, " and also M. Guillemin says, in his 
 work upon comets, zat zese wandering stars are 
 perpetually robbed of zeir gaseous particles, zeir 
 nebulous tails, as zey do pass amongst zie constella- 
 tions. Yet I do prefer zie myth of zie dawn clouds 
 for leetle Bo-peep. Still I shall consider zie tails of 
 zie comets, Victor. It is a good suggestion and 
 worthy of remark, my dear." 
 
 Victor looked ashamed. 
 
 "Grandpapa, you are so good," he said, and he 
 rose and put his arm about the old man's neck. 
 
 Docteur Canonge embraced him tenderly. 
 
 During the conversation Docteur Canonge's coffee 
 had got to be cool enough for quaffing. So he 
 drained it to the bottom of the cup ; cafe noir it 
 really was, strong as any Arab of the sacred tribe 
 of the Wahabtees ever distilled for his own holy 
 lips. 
 
 Lizbette excelled in coffee and in all the real 
 Southern dishes. She made both the gumbos, as 
 well as the famous bisque, to perfection. It takes 
 exactly one hundred and fifty crawfish to make a 
 good dish of bisque. Lizbette understood how to 
 divide them — so many for stuffed heads, so many 
 for stuffing, so many for beating up into powder 
 so many for the basis of the soup. There are some 
 things in this world that only a Creole cook can do. 
 
120 PANOLA. 
 
 One is to make bisque. Then Lizbette knew all 
 about terrapin, all about corn-bread, and rice waffles, 
 and hominy, and capons, and " pain perdu.'' She 
 knew how to make fig conserves, and watermelon 
 citron, and cocoanut cakes, and banana fritters, the 
 very coolest of ices and sherbets, and drinks of fruit 
 juices — that made from the yellow fruit of the pas- 
 sion vine up to the syrup of orange blossoms, whose 
 " bouquet" was as exquisite as its " gout.'' 
 
 In 'short, Lizbette was perfection itself, in the 
 kitchen, over the pots and pans. But, out of it, 
 she would occasionally get on a " rampage," espe- 
 cially when she got ^' na thatfou, but just a drappie in 
 Jiere'e;'' which sometimes happens in a better 
 reo-ulated household than Docteur Canon n-c's. In 
 truth, this household was somewhat irregular and 
 even Bohemian in its arran elements. There were no 
 especial hours for anything, except dinner. Docteur 
 Canonge could never be counted on for any meal, 
 for sleep, or for any regularity of living, because he 
 v/as subject to constant calls in his profession, and 
 ate and slept and came home when he could. But 
 Lizbette had always something hot and good ready 
 for him, at any hour of the day or night; especially 
 did the coffee dripper simmer and moan away all 
 the time beside the kitchen fire, on its own particular 
 little charcoal furnace. 
 
 Coffee was the one necessity of life for Docteur 
 Canonge and his household. Tea he disdained, and 
 
MUCII-MARRIED LIZBETTE. 121 
 
 they all thought themselves vei-y ill when they were 
 condemned " to tea and toast.'' The contortions of 
 visage with which the beverage would be swallowed 
 would be inconceivable to any Englishman. But 
 the fact was, Lizbctte did not make good tea. 
 Either she steeped it in middling cool water, or she 
 boiled it, or stewed it, or did something to it which 
 drew out all its bitterness and evaporated all its 
 aroma. Then, too, these ignorant people had never 
 drunk a cup of really good tea, made as it is in 
 England. So they only knew it through Lizbette's 
 preparations. (I should advise any Englishman 
 who travels in Louisiana, to bring with him his own 
 portable little tea equipage, or learn to drink coffee 
 or claret for his breakfast. The tea is generally 
 abominable stuff.) 
 
 Tisans can be got to perfection. Tisans of balm, 
 or orange leaves, or violets, or of the thousand plants 
 that are used by experienced French nurses for the 
 simple cure or prevention of native diseases. On 
 the opposite side of the fireplace to the coffee fur- 
 nace Lizbctte usually had a caraffe of " Tisan " 
 stewing for some body or other. 
 
 Lizbctte was part of the family. She ruled over 
 the other servants despotically, and whenever she 
 got a little too much " old Bourbon " or " Jamaiky," 
 she used to sit down and weep bitterly, and tear her 
 hair, in memory of her *' dear dead old mistus," 
 Mrs. Canonge, who had been buried for forty years. 
 
122 PANOLA. 
 
 Then the old docteur ^yould shrug his shoulders, 
 give Lizbette a few drops of ammonia, and have her 
 put in her bed, whence, after a few hours' sleep, she 
 would emerge meek and subdued, and altogether 
 amiable and obliging for some time. 
 
 While Natika and Victor were with their grand- 
 papa, Mark made an effort to have a little more 
 regularity about the household, and did succeed with 
 lunch and dinner; but breakfast remained woefully 
 protracted and long drawn out. Victor would come 
 sometimes to join Mark at nine o'clock. Xatika 
 tried it once, and then ordered her chocolate at 
 eleven. Victor fell off too in attendance. Docteur 
 Canonge came sometimes, but not often. So Mark 
 returned to his old habits of his simple, solitary 
 breakfast at eight o'clock, leaving the others to 
 arrange their own hours with Lizbette. 
 
 Docteur Canon ge's house was really a very de- 
 lightful restaurant, where each and all did exactly 
 as they pleased. Nobody was in a hurry about 
 anything in particular, and the servants rather liked 
 the disjointed style of living. 
 
 Xegroes have naturally no instinct of order. 
 They sleep anywhere and at all hours, and rise often 
 to cook and eat at the most untimely hours of the 
 night. Victor called his grandfather's house 
 " Liberty Hall." He said it was a good name for 
 an American house. He liked it better than " In- 
 dependence Hall." It was more characteristic. Yet, 
 
MUCH -MARRIED LIZBETTE. 123 
 
 over all this frcedoni there prevailed an atmosphere 
 of gracious courtesy and refinement which took its 
 rise in the heart of the old French docteur. 
 
 Lizbette iiad recently buried her eii^hth husband • 
 not that she had been a widow eight times. Only 
 two of her husbands had been taken away by a 
 " decree of Providence," as Lizbette and the coro- 
 ners express it. The other six had been divorced or 
 abandoned by her, as she became weary of their 
 conjugal society, though she had been lawfully mar- 
 ried to each of them (Lizbette was a strict Methodist 
 and particular about the conventionalities of re- 
 ligion). But when she was weary of a husband, she 
 used to have a grand quarrel and separate d mensd 
 et thord, 
 
 Lizbette's ideas of law being rather confused, she 
 considered that equal to a divorce anywhere; so, 
 when she was attracted by another man, she duly 
 married him according to her ideas of law and order. 
 She was faithful while she lived with her husbands, 
 and cut them off entirely when she was fatigued 
 -with their society. However, she bore no malice, 
 and was quite friendly after the lapse of a few 
 months intercourse ; and the " divorced ones " used 
 to visit her occasionally, and she was always ready 
 to give them a friendly meal, or any little help in 
 life. She also visited their wives on quite an inti- 
 mate footing. The principles of the free- lovers 
 were practically exemplified every day by Lizbette 
 
124 PANOLA. 
 
 and her people, and they never lost caste among 
 themselves, or in their church, by these small do- 
 mestic difficulties. Indeed, three of Lizbette's hus- 
 bands were preachers, and stood high in the opinion 
 of the sable brethren and sisters. 
 
 There is no doubt that the higher sentiments of 
 constant love to one and monogamy is the last result 
 of European civilization and of man's development 
 in the last twenty centuries. It began first in the 
 AVest among the Homans, as a matter of state policy; 
 was incorporated into Christianity not only by the 
 teachings of its Divine Founder but also as a matter 
 of social civilization and statesmanship. The highest 
 problems of civilization have been worked out through 
 it. But it is not natural to the African. They have 
 not yet attained to the highest sentiment of a con- 
 stant love. They are a child-people, with the virtues 
 and the vices belonging to a child-people. They have 
 no idea of vengeance, except for the moment; neither 
 of gratitude, except for the time. Unless the blood 
 is mixed ; then the mulatto inherits the strong pas- 
 sions and appetencies of one race and the astuteness 
 and viciousness of the whites. While he is ordi- 
 narily more intellectual, he is not so good, nor so 
 docile, nor so affectionate as a pure black; and he 
 has more the sentiment of revenge, but no more 
 gratitude. A child is rarely grateful. It takes all 
 favors joyfully, but without sense of obligation, and 
 it forgets in a moment; and so does the African. 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 125 
 
 They arc a kind, impulsive people, governed by d 
 •priori superstitions. They may be developed out 
 of tliis, but they will then be developed into an- 
 other race of beings. 
 
 Lizbette, with all her deficiencies, was a very im- 
 portant and greatly beloved member of Docteur 
 Canonge's family, but she W'as African au fond. 
 
 Note. — Among the Hindoos we find the most delicate and 
 beautiful pictures of purest conjugal love. For instance, in the 
 loves of Rama and Sita, in Sakuntala, and other earliest books, 
 which portray the Hindoo ideal. Even the Suttee sprang from 
 this elevated ideal of the oneness of conjugal lives. Perhaps it is 
 from the Aryan that the European sentiment of constancy may 
 be inherited ; and its pure conception of conjugal unity comes 
 from the people who imagiued ^Sita and Sakuutula. 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 A GERMAN NATURALIST. 
 
 '' r^ RAXDPAPA," Mark exclaimed, one morn- 
 VJT ing, as the docteur was passing to and fro 
 in the little w^orkroom adjoining the library, where 
 poor Mark usually could be found, seated eternally, 
 with his books and writing materials conveniently 
 disposed about him: ''grandpapa, here is a letter 
 you will enjoy, from Professor Rcimer." 
 
126 PANOLA. 
 
 '^Romer! indeed, I shall much delight in dat!'* 
 responded the docteur, hastening into the library, 
 regardless of his peculiar appearance, being clad in 
 a long blue linen blouse over his usual attire, 
 having his head tied up in a bright bandana 
 handkerchief, to keep off the dust ; his hands being 
 extended outwards from his person, for they were 
 full of paste and gum — he had been occupied in 
 rebindino; some of his treasures of old or rare books 
 — his long, narrow, thin, French face sparkling 
 with anticipated pleasure. 
 
 ^'Datis great man! E,omer ! great botaniste! I 
 like his books ver mooch. I have zem all bound 
 in zie beautiful red lezzer. I do it myself. I like 
 Romer ! '' 
 
 Victor had been readino- Geors^e Sand's last 
 romance, with his heels higher than his head, as he 
 lay upon a sofa in the library. He put down his 
 book and sat upright as his grandfather came 
 running^ in, so full of ea2:erness about the letter 
 Mark held open in his hand. Victor was not at all 
 scientific, but* he had heard of Romer, whose reputa- 
 tion was world-wide. 
 
 "Where did you meet Roraer?'' asked Victor, 
 with interest. 
 
 " I met him in Berlin," said Mark. " I saw a 
 good deal of him, and grew to be much attached to 
 him, and we have corresponded in a desultory sort 
 of fashion ever since. He is now in South America, 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 127 
 
 and this letter lias been wanderins: about a jrood 
 deal, being first brought down one of the tributaries 
 of the Amazon on the head of one of the Indian 
 swimmers who transport the mail in that region of 
 cataracts and vast trackless forests." 
 
 " I am altogedder attention,'* said Docteur 
 Canonge ; " read on, ^fark." 
 
 "Does he write English?" asked Victor; "it 
 does not look like Entrlish from here.'' •• 
 
 "No; he writes in German, and that's the reason it 
 has been so long reaching me," replied Mark. " Our 
 j)0stmasters don't generally read German text." 
 
 " I don't understand it either, Mark ; so you had 
 better translate," proposed Victor. " I should like 
 to hear what Romer says for himself." 
 
 Mark glanced over the letter. "AVell, it is 
 great injustice to Romer, who is really quite elo- 
 quent in his own tongue; but here gees for an off- 
 hand translation, literal, of course." 
 
 "My Dear Mark: — You do not think that I 
 have forgotten you, because I have not found time 
 this present year to write to you, noble friend. I 
 have been very busy, and in many wild regions of 
 the earth, where correspondence was not a possibil- 
 ity ; where there were no roads and no mail facilities, 
 not even such as are here, of an Indian swimmer to 
 convey a letter upon his head, down the rivers for 
 many miles, to points of civilization. Owing to the 
 
128 PANOLA. 
 
 frequent cataracts and pathless forests, there is no 
 other good route for anything less j^ersevering than 
 an enthusiastic botanist, who discovers here in this 
 mitrodden wilderness a true paradise, in which, I 
 assure you, serpents abound, although the Eves are 
 by no means tempting. I have been wandering, 
 since the last year, gathering abundance of finest 
 specimens of plants for the Berlin museum. I have 
 been extremely successful and immensely happy. I 
 have found several new varieties of cinchona, and 
 or\Q fern, which grows only in a cavern on a certain 
 tributary of the Amazon, a fern never known before, 
 and which I risked my life, with joy, to obtain. It 
 grew in a cave, into which I had to be lowered by 
 a grass rope, on the side of a mountain much 
 broken by rocks, about three hundred feet. The 
 Indians who were my guides objected to my descent; 
 but I gave them my only overcoat, well lined with 
 sable (a present from King William, which had 
 served me well on my travels), but I had forgotten 
 to bring any money from the last town whence 
 I started to make this little tour, so I had 
 bartered away all I had with me, except my pipe, a 
 shirt, my trowsers and this overcoat, which I now 
 gave to be permitted to make this descent. I had 
 no shoes, save the cowskin sewed boots of this 
 country, and I have now an overcoat like a Tartar's, 
 made of dressed sheepskins, so I could not make a 
 creditable a^^pearance with you as formerly ^Unter 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 129 
 
 den Liiulcn,' in Berlin. I was in a little clanger lest 
 the rocks might cut my grass rope, at the end of 
 which I dangled for a half hour; but at last I made 
 my footing safe into the mouth of the cavern, and I 
 found the fern. Oh, mein lieber Mark! but it was 
 an hour of joy. I grasped my treasure, and put it 
 safely into my little silver box in my bosom; then I 
 seized another handful — roots and all — and gave the 
 signal to be hoisted up, which was done quickly; 
 but, having to guard my precious plant, I could not 
 protect myself from the rocks so well, and so I re- 
 ceived some rather sharp blows on my body, which 
 have rendered me somewhat stiff in the shoulders 
 and elbows, and forced me to rest a few days. So I am 
 compelled to take leisure, and I write up my letters: 
 this one to you, dear beloved Mark. I had a small 
 attack of fever of the country this year, for about 
 two months. It was intermittent in type, and gave 
 me an opportunity of testing the strength of the 
 different varieties of the cinchona, which I took in 
 infusion and also in decoction. I am, therefore, now 
 prepared to give experimental information in regard 
 to the equalities of the different plants as febrifuges. 
 I tried some of the coarser and weaker sorts faith- 
 fully for several weeks; but they did not relieve 
 disease so quickly as others. I can advise the gov- 
 ernment positively on this matter. I did not mind 
 retaining my fever somewhat longer, in order to 
 attain to this certain knowledge. 
 8 
 
130 PANOLA. 
 
 "This IS a splendid country for a botanist. I do 
 not know when I can ])Grsuade myself to leave it. 
 I find so much that is deliirhtful here. I have 
 learned to live like the people here, and it does very 
 well indeed. Sometimes I find I can go very well 
 for several days, as the Arabs do, with the suste- 
 nance of small balls of ground coffee, which I can 
 generally obtain in this latitude. It is very conven- 
 ient, and easily portable." 
 
 "Good Lord!" ejaculated Victor, "what a diet!" 
 
 Mark smiled as he glanced up from his letter. 
 Docteur Canonge was rubbing his hands in glee. 
 Edmer was a man after his own heart. 
 
 " Oh, but I should like to eat coifee wiz such a 
 compagnon ! " said the docteur ; " it would be 
 nectare of zie gods ! " 
 
 "Besides," continued Mark, reading, "I have 
 frequently much fruits and many plants which are 
 edible and known to me, so that I fare well. Some 
 day you will find me knocking at your gate, dear 
 Mark, when, if ever, I can persuade myself to quit 
 this land of interest and wonders. [Make my com- 
 pliments to your venerable and most admired 
 grandfather, Monsieur le IMarquis and Docteur 
 Canonge, whom I hope some day to see, and to lay 
 at his feet my most respectful homage. With un- 
 changing friendship, believe me, my dear Mark, 
 "Yours, "EoMER." 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 131 
 
 " Dat is a man ! a man amono^ zouzands! " com- 
 mented Docteiir Canonge, clasping his paste-covered 
 fingers together enthusiastically. "It is a friend to 
 be proud for, my dear ^Nlark ! ^' 
 
 Victor ran his finsrers through his soft, dark curls 
 and looked lauj^hinsj-lv at his irrandfather. 
 
 " Yes," responded ^lark, earnestly, " Homer is a 
 magnificent fellow ! I am proud of his friendship. 
 Oh, how gladly I would partake in his fatigues and 
 clangers, if it were but possible ! " and ^lark sighed 
 heavily as he glanced at his faultless but helpless legs. 
 
 Docteur Canonge's face changed. He never could 
 bear to hear Mark sigh over his helpless condition. 
 
 "I mus' go and complete zie binding of my 
 * Boethius,' " he said, " while zie paste remains still 
 soft. I zank you, dear Mark, lor reading me 
 Ecimer's beautiful letter." 
 
 The old docteur never forgot his graceful 
 courtesy towards the most intimate associate; he 
 smiled gratefully on his grandson, and disappeared 
 into his own sanctum to his work. 
 
 He had hardly got his leather straight upon his 
 book's back before the door opened. 
 
 "Grandpapa," cried Natika, entering hurriedly 
 into his laboratory, " you'll have to stop your work ! 
 Here come tln'ee carriages, containing, I think, «//the 
 Smiths and all the Clarks to pay their party call!" 
 
 Docteur Canonge held up his pasty hands in 
 despair, shrugged his shoulders, and then, with a 
 comical grimace, said; 
 
132 PANOLA. 
 
 " Zey make attack in a phakanx ! How sail we 
 meet zis enemy ? '' 
 
 Xatika laughed. " I don't know, grandpapa. 
 Let's bring them all in here, where Mark and Vic- 
 tor can help us ; and tell Lizbette to send up a tray 
 of wine and little cakes as soon as possible, and some 
 of her home-made orange syrup and water." 
 
 " Yes ; zat will be a diversion to occupy zie army 
 for a while," said Docteur Canonge, laughing. "And 
 we will tell zem about Eomer, and I will show zem 
 my workshop. So, now we have arrange our plan 
 of battle, I will go wash my hands and take off zis 
 w^orkman's costume ! " 
 
 When Docteur Canonge returned to the salon 
 after making a hurried toilette, he came in all the 
 splendor of his black suit, in the buttonholes of 
 w^hich dangled the ribands of several scientific 
 associations, amons^ them the red riband of the 
 French academy. He found " the army," as he 
 had called it, already in line of battle. The angular 
 Mr. Clark, the exuberant Mrs. Clark, the shy Miss 
 Clark, occupied one sofa in a straight line; imme- 
 diately at right angles sat the three Misses Smith, 
 with their mamma flanking them, and their brother 
 trying to look graceful, nonchalant and accustomed 
 to the easy performance of all social duties. Xatika 
 sat facing this formidable array, talking volubly 
 and despairingly — making enormous efforts to get 
 some replies more than monosyllabic from her over- 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 133 
 
 whelming and portentous guests. But tliey, the 
 guests, had come to be entertained, not to entertain. 
 So they sat up for their rights, and Natika found 
 that even her Parisian skill failed when she had to 
 do the "frais" of all the conversation for a party 
 comprising six women, who had very few ideas, and 
 who jealously kept those few sacredly within the 
 miserly recesses of their own minds. 
 
 This seance was held in the chief salon, and 
 Natika could have embraced her grandfather, when 
 after making his graceful and gracious salutations, 
 lie invited tlie whole party to adjourn to the library. 
 So that his poor Mark "also might have zie plea- 
 sure of zie ladies' conversation." 
 
 The 'Svhole party" followed the bright little 
 docteur, who preceded them, throwing open the 
 library door, then stepping briskly back with a pro- 
 found bow to the ladies as they entered the more 
 sociable apartment. There was quite a little bustle 
 as everybody shook hands with Mark, who received 
 the greetings with a cordial smile. Victor came 
 gracefully forward, and by the time Lizbette's tray 
 arrived the social ice was fairly broken. The stiff 
 people lost some of their starch. Fat ^Irs. Smith 
 was laughing jollily, and iNIr. Clark was talking so 
 fast about i)Otany, of which he knew nothing, and 
 of Romer, of whom he actually had heard some- 
 thing, that Docteur Canonge could not keep pace with 
 him comprehend ingly, but he was making the most 
 
134 PANOLA. 
 
 amiable though rather impotent attempts to reply 
 ^vit]l nnderstanding and propriety. In one of his 
 entangled sentences he broke down so plainly and so 
 preposterously that even Natika's elegance and de- 
 corum gave way, and she burst out into an irrepres- 
 sible, merry laugh over her grandf\ither's palpable 
 mistakes, that was contagious. Docteur Canonge 
 also laughed, and so did stiff Mr. Clark, while fat 
 INIrs. Smith shook her fat sides like " a bowlful of 
 
 jelly." 
 
 After a rather prolonged visit, the whole party 
 took leave en masse as they had come, evidently 
 pleased with the visit. 
 
 " Thank heaven, that's over ! '* said Katika, 
 throwing herself exhausted into an easy-chair. 
 
 "I sink,'' said her grandfather, "zat children 
 should be educated wiz knowledge of conversaiion 
 as a social dutv. It would ver' much iifrhten zie 
 burden of life, if every soul met his fellow wiz 
 frankness and amiable desire to please ; and zis is 
 matter of cultivation which Americans do much 
 neglect." 
 
 *' There seems to be a fierte in the Eno-lish and 
 American peoples," said Katika. 
 
 "A remnant of ancient savagery and isolation that 
 has not been yet evolved out of them," put in 
 Victor. 
 
 " Zey was a strong and fierce race, zose nordern 
 peoples," said Docteur Canonge. ^' Zey were like 
 
A GERMAN NATURALIST. 135 
 
 zie carnivorous animals who e^cizo zcir proy each for 
 himself, and go oiVlo zcir dens to devour it in silent 
 peace. Zere still remains great inclination to divi- 
 sion and individuation among zeni ■svhich is not 
 human, and truly not Christian." 
 
 *^ But, grandpapa, you know you are almost so- 
 cialistic in your theories," said Victor. 
 
 *^ Perhaps ! zere is someting of de Frenchman in 
 me. Zie first impulse of zie Frenchman, when any 
 proposition is made to him, is to say, 'I doubt.' 
 Zey are a nation of doubters, true disciples of Des- 
 cartes ! Dey can nevare be very dogmatique be- 
 cause zey do nevare ver' strongly believe much. 
 Zey can nevare see whole trutts anywhere; it is all 
 half-trutts, and sometimes zey don't see noting true 
 at all." 
 
 *^ They understand co-operation, though, and are 
 ready to work and associate with others. So they 
 have done much for science/' said j\Iark. 
 
 ^'Yes, and all de great socialist theories have 
 generally sprung out of French brains," replied the 
 docteur. " I sink zey are probablement developed 
 out of zose leetle tent-caterpillars who make a nation 
 of zemselves, who form one huge tent on a single 
 tree, who eat and sleep and make zeir diurnal prom- 
 enades tofreddcr every day." 
 
 "Grandpapa, Swedenborg says that the ordinary 
 "duties of society are to give * breakfasts and dinners 
 and suppers.' lie has a long chapter about it," 
 said j\Iark. 
 
136 PANOLA. 
 
 "AVell, Swcdenborg is right zere. It is always 
 been considered a mark of amity to eat togedder 
 among all nations in all periods of time. From zie 
 earlie'st [)eriod among zie Hindoos, who are strict peo- 
 ple of caste, zere has been zie highest honor awarded 
 to Jagernath, whose festival drew zie largest crowd 
 of pilgrims in zat ole world, by reason of de fact zat 
 zere all zie people were equal, and zey all did eat to- 
 gedder, zereby showing zie wide brotherhood of 
 man. Jagernath have been ver' much calumniated 
 idol. His car did nevare run over nobody, but 
 have ever been zie symbol of love and fraternity 
 among zie Hindoos. Zere is also zie traditional 
 feasts of zie Scandinavians. Zey did eat togedder 
 at Yule-tide and on oder times wen zie chiefs did as- 
 semble for council. And zere is zie old symbol of 
 zie order of Freemasons — zie ver' name came from 
 * mas,' zie Gothic for * a table.' Zey were band of 
 brodders who do eat to2;ether all over zie world. 
 And zere is zie higher mystery of zie mass, or zie 
 Eucharist, among zie Christians. It is a remarka- 
 ble fac' zat zie Divine Founder of our relig-ion 
 nevare invent nozing new by way of symbols. He 
 take old sings and gave zem new and infinite mean- 
 injxs. He take zie washino: of zie Hindoos and he 
 turn it into baptism. He take zie fraternal feasts 
 and he make it zie bond of union amon^r all Chris- 
 tians, a sign of amity, equality, fraternity and true 
 liberty." 
 
MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR. 137 
 
 " Oil, grandpapa ! what would the priests say to 
 hear you talk ? " said Xatika. 
 
 " Zey might say what zey like. I must trutt 
 speak. I am Catolique out of respect to my ances- 
 tors and to my tamiile. But I make my own ex- 
 planation of all zese matters to myself. I am a 
 Christian, but I go much round a large circle of 
 metaphysics before I get back to zie elementary 
 mysteries, but I do get zere after while, and it con- 
 tents me. I believe zie best I know, and zie mcTst 
 I can. But I see zere appears Mr. Antony Coolidge. 
 lie do come to see you, Natika, an' you can ver' well 
 entertain one poor young man, wizout assistance from 
 me or anybody,'' said Docteur Canonge, his eyes 
 twinkling merrily. " So I will go again back to 
 zie blouse and zie book-binding. I fear much my 
 paste is all hard by zis time." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR. 
 
 DOCTEUR CAXOXGE was extremely beloved 
 in his neighborhood. lie had a passion for 
 his profession of medicine, and his tenderness and 
 sympathy for his '' poor j)atients" were ever ready 
 and unfailing in all demands upon him. 
 
138 PANOLA. 
 
 Half the time he forgot to put down his medical 
 calls in his books, and il" a neighbor was cramped in 
 his circumstances, the docleur's bill was never pre- 
 sented at all. Wlien he received money, which he 
 often did, he would thrust the bank notes into his 
 pocket, where Lizbette would discover them woe- 
 fully damaged by j)as?ing through the hands of the 
 washerwoman who had charge of his usual costumes 
 of linen or Attakapas cotonnade. It was only on 
 grand occasions that the docteur appeared in the 
 glory of black broadcloth, with all his ribands in his 
 buttonholes. He had a pardonable small vanity 
 in his ribands. They had been sent him by dif- 
 ferent scientific societies ; and so " farouche " Ke- 
 jiublican as he was in principle, he valued the 
 rewards of science above all things. AVhen his 
 brother Jacob, who had been so successftd in ac- 
 cumulating money, reproached the docteur for his 
 carelessness of what Jacob regarded as the chief end 
 of life — "the making of money" — the docteur 
 would shrug his shoulders up to his ears, and 
 reply : 
 
 *' What would you have, Jacob ? I haf not zie 
 talent to make much money ; and zen I haf nevare 
 had zie time eider; I haf been so busv in my life 
 wiz oder sings, zat I had not any time at all ! Vou 
 see J haf 710 time .'" 
 
 Jacob's "umph,'' sneering and contemptuous as 
 it was, never affected the docteur's equanimity. He 
 
MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR. 130 
 
 alwavs persisted that he would have made a vorv 
 great deal of money if he had had time to spare ! 
 
 Docteur Canont^e was the most toU^rant of men, 
 very patient of all men's idiosyncracies, which were 
 a never ceasin^^ stndy of deepest interest to him. 
 Physically active, and so quick and restless as to be 
 almost impatient, lie was yet the very gentlest of 
 human beings. 
 
 He was loyal, true, and deeply grateful in charac- 
 ter. He had a very quick wit, that seemed some- 
 times to have a sting in its vivacity ; but there was 
 110 root of bitterness in the man. The only thing 
 he was not tolerant of was iniokrance. 
 
 His religioti was profound, but rather pantheisti- 
 cal. He read everything, from the Bhagavat Gita 
 down to Corate and Herbert Spencer. 
 
 *' Every man," he used to say, *' makes for him- 
 self, according to the receptive power of his mind 
 and senses, an image of zie universe, which, of 
 course, decides his life here. We can see only so 
 much as our eyes will perceive of anyzing. ]My 
 idea of deity and zie universe must be an image, 
 projected out of my own mind, not out of anozer 
 mind. AVe can only make a guess at zie sum of 
 probabilities. It is ver' foolish to dogmatize about 
 anyzing. Trutt is like zie beautiful emerald bird in 
 zie fiiiry tale, zat flies ever before us, enticing us to 
 follow it to the more beautiful and better life. A\ e 
 can uevaie seize it, but it is of great advantage zat 
 
140 PANOLA. 
 
 we are led on. AYe learn ; our souls expand. W^e 
 enjoy larger life, fuller growth. We become grander 
 beings ; and all zie happiness we are capable of, we 
 can find in zie i^ursuit of trutt ; zie possession we 
 can nevare have ! Zie home of trutt is in zie bosom 
 of deity ! Aspiration and jjower of growth — zose are 
 zie real joys of life; and it is mercifully provided 
 zat we can nevare attain to positive trutt about 
 Dozing. As we grow, our planes of thought do 
 widen, and w^e see zie light of knowledge strearaen 
 in on us from all sides, not one sides ! I sink some- 
 times zat my mind's eye haf acquired as many facets 
 as zat of a fly's eye. I see so many sides of trutt. 
 I can only aj^proach to trutt ! I nevare can catch 
 zat fairy bird." 
 
 Yet, with all his gentleness, Docteur Canonge 
 was known to be a man of imj^erturbable coolness 
 and of unfailing courage, both moral and physical. 
 He had no sense of fear ; but he ranked courage 
 and integrity as simple elemental principles *• of a 
 gentleman." He considered it as a matter of course 
 for gentlemen to be brave. AVhere he found the quality 
 lacking, he treated it as an organic disease, or weak- 
 ness of nerves, to be regarded as a serious malady. 
 
 He never had been known to quarrel with any one. 
 But on one occasion, the son of a friend of his, visit- 
 ing him, w^as very grossly insulted by a well-know-n 
 Creole bully. The young man was what the old 
 docteur called " a singularly nervous person." Other 
 
m 
 
 MONSIEUR LE DOCTEUR. 141 
 
 prople said he was a coward. At any rate the next 
 day, while the notorious bully was swaggering along 
 the public street, in the most frequented part of it, 
 he was met flice to face by Docteur Canonge, who 
 stepped briskly along, carrying a small cowhide in 
 liis hand. The docteur was bright, gay, smiling, as 
 he saluted the many friends who thronged the pave. 
 When he reached the bully, he stopped short and, 
 lifting his hat very courteously, he told him he 
 *' had come to request an apology for his probably 
 unintentional affront to his (Docteur Canonge's) 
 guest." The bully glared at him with inellable 
 contempt, and with a savage oath refused to make 
 "any apology." "I regret, then," said the little 
 docteur, " that I shall have to apply this ! " Lifting 
 his hand quickly, he smote the infuriated duellist on 
 the face with his little riding-whip. With an ejacu- 
 lation the man sprang upon him ; but the docteur 
 slipped nimbly aside, and brought down the whip 
 once more keenly upon the man's shoulders. A 
 crowd rushed in and separated the combatants. 
 
 The next day Docteur Canonge fought the bully 
 with small-swords and wounded him in the arm. 
 So soon as he had disabled him, Docteur Canonge 
 proffered his assistance to aid the surgeon in dress- 
 ing the wound. His adversary apologized to the 
 guest. Docteur Canonge spoke only once of the 
 
 affair. He said to an intimate friend, " Poor B , 
 
 he is unfortunately of a very nervous temperament! 
 
142 PANOLA. 
 
 Of course, I had to fight for him ! It was a neces- 
 sity of honor. It is all matter of temperament ! It 
 is inconvenient to be nervous, as we have to live 
 under zie code of honor here." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A VERY W O il A X . 
 
 ^' "XTATIKA, what are you .eolng to do with 
 
 -i-^ Antony?" asked Mark, looking quietly at 
 Natika as she leaned forward, resting her head on 
 her hand, waiting for the door bell to sound, as An- 
 tony neared the house after having fastened his horse 
 to the rack at the side of the drive. 
 
 ^^Bo w^ith Antony Coolidge ! " repeated Natika, 
 indifferently. *' Nothing, that I know. What is 
 to be done with him, Mark? What possibilities lie 
 infolded in that half-developed creature? that hy- 
 brid between races?" 
 
 " Oh, Xatika," cried Mark, shocked at her levity, 
 "what a shame to speak so lightly of a human soul 
 which is lavishing its all of life and love at your 
 feet ! If a woman cannot respond, she should at 
 least be grateful, and respect such love as that." 
 
 " Should she ? " said Xatika, carelessly. " Have 
 you to learn, my cousin Mark, that ^ should ' and 
 
A VERY WOMAN. 143 
 
 'ought' are verbs that are not incliidecl in mv vo- 
 cabulary? I do not acknowledge any duties in lil'o 
 to anybody. I do exactly what I choose and what 
 is according to my own will and pleasure. Do von 
 Remember Madame de Stael's excuse for herself.'* 
 ™C'est ma nature ainsi.' AVell, that's my creed. 
 What I am, I am by birth, proclivities, accidents of 
 life; and though I am deprived, from hatred of 
 cant and hypocrisy, of many popular virtues, I re- 
 tain one, of absolute truth to myself and also to 
 those who are associated with me. What I am, I 
 am; and I don't choose to be anything else. There's 
 Mr. Coolidge's ring at the door. Now comes the 
 announcement to me. Au revoir, messieurs ! You 
 are both rather wearisome with your sermonizing." 
 
 Xatika kissed her hands most gracefully to her 
 cousins; gathering all her little finger-tips to her 
 rosy lips, then throwing out her hands towards 
 them, scatterinir kisses as she ran o;avlv out of the 
 room, the high heels of her satin slippers clattering 
 lightly as she went. 
 
 "Take the heels off your slippers, Xatika," called 
 out Victor, "and walk noiselessly, like a lady.'' 
 
 " Like Panola, par exemple ! " retorted Natika. 
 "jl/y ancestors did not steal upon their prey like 
 ^vild beasts!" 
 
 Victor looked after her with a bitter smile upon 
 his handsome lips. Mark looked after her with 
 deep solicitude. 
 
144 PANOLA. 
 
 "No use, ]\Iark ! '* exclaimed Victor. " It is the 
 Venus Auadyomene ! the creature made of foam of 
 the sea ! Capricious aud merciless, like the treach- 
 erous wave, and — God help me! — maddening aud 
 fearful in her cruel beauty.'' 
 
 "It would be impossible to warn Antony," ob- 
 served Mark, thoughtfully. 
 
 ^^ Impossible ! He would not believe you ! God! 
 I know! — and yet!" — Victor sprang up from his 
 chair and paced up and down the room like a caged 
 leopard. Mark looked at him pityingly. 
 
 " I can't understand it, Victor ! " he said. "J 
 love Xatika truly ! but how can you love her as you 
 do, knowing her as you do?" 
 
 "Ask the moth why it flies to the candle, or the 
 needle why it rushes to the loadstone," replied Vic- 
 tor, stopping before a window looking out ou the 
 garden, and then drumming upon the panes with 
 his fingers. " It is all magnetism, I suppose, or 
 something that science will explain some day or 
 other, but not in time for me, or for Antony Cool- 
 idge, or a score of other fools like us. T\Iark, do 
 you think one can overcome one love by cultivating 
 another? Philosophers say vacuums are impossi- 
 bilities. The only way to drive one love out of 
 one's heart would be to crowd it out by another, I 
 think." 
 
 " I don't know, but I think it might be wise to 
 try," replied Mark, lightly. 
 
cousins' gossip. 145 
 
 " I have a half mind to try," said Victor ; " I 
 wish Chicora was younger and well, perhaps it 
 would not be so difficult. There go NatiUa and 
 Antony ! Spoony fellow ! What a dance she is 
 leading him ! They are gathering roses in the 
 garden — thorns ! Antony, take care of your poor, 
 miserable fingers ! — thorns to those flowers ! Good- 
 bye, Mark ; I am going out for a gallop. I should 
 like to gallop to the d 1, if I could." 
 
 Victor dashed out of the library, and Mark soon 
 listened to his horse's clattering hoofs as he rushed 
 past the library window, not halting even when he 
 courteously lifted his hat, as he almost ran his horse 
 past the parterre, where Natika was gathering 
 flowers with Antony Coolidge, looking up into her 
 eyes and hanging with passionate admiration upon 
 her sweet, coquettish talk. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 cousins' gossip. 
 
 THE next day ]\rark heard Victor singing as he 
 ap})roached the study door in his quick, 
 imi)ul.sive way. He sang an old romance of 
 Rousseau's. 
 
 Victor's voice was delicious in its impassioned 
 9 
 
146 PANOLA. 
 
 depths. Mark heard it tremble, and he heard 
 Natika laugh. 
 
 Natika and Victor came in toirether to Mark in 
 the library. It was the custom of tlie house to go 
 to !Mark whenever any of the inmates went out and 
 returned laden with fresh gossip, or any more sub- 
 stantial gifts for Mark, who had grown to be the 
 fixed centre of all the family-life and interests. 
 Indeed, Mark Boiling was most tenderly regarded 
 by the whole community of his grandfather's friends, 
 so that he used to say, laughingly, "that life had 
 always its compensations.'' He had a grateful, sen- 
 sitive nature, and was responsive to, and appreciative 
 of, every little grain of kindness or happiness that 
 was brought to him. 
 
 ^atika brought him now a magnificent Japanese 
 lily, which she held up under his nose. 
 
 " There ! ain't that a beauty ! I got it from 
 Madame Boiling's garden, and brought it carefully 
 home for you." 
 
 "It is splendid! " said Mark, taking the superb 
 flower from her hand. " So you and Victor have 
 been to call at my stepmother's." 
 
 "Yes, and who do you think we found domesti- 
 cated there ? Yf ho but Miss Clark ! the shy, the 
 awkward, the huge — " 
 
 "And the pretty ! " put in Victor. 
 
 " Yes, she is pretty," replied Natika, carelessly. 
 "She has really a beautiful face, but it is of no use 
 
cousins' gossip. 147 
 
 to lior ; it is a great waste, beauty on such a woman 
 as tluit.'' 
 
 "She is rather 'vast' in her proportions," said 
 Victor. " She would have filled the Scandinavian 
 idea of a wife for Thor or Odin ! — she is so big 
 altogether." 
 
 "Xot quite six feet," continued Natika ; "well 
 made, too, if she knew how to manage herself; very 
 pretty hair, that she does not keep tidy ; very pretty 
 hands, that are not immaculately clean ; quite a 
 sweet voice, which she strains horribly, and fine 
 clothes that fit her not at all ; she wears her clothes 
 as if thev were hung upon a clothes-horse; she does 
 not drape herself at all. I really feel sorry for 
 Nature when I find her excellent gifts so squan- 
 dered.^' 
 
 " You are severe," said Mark ; " what has poor 
 Miss Clark done to you?" 
 
 "Made love to Antony Cool idge," said Victor, 
 quietly. " It is funny to see how she makes eyes at 
 Antony. [N'atika considers that as an interference 
 with her prerogative. She never allows any other 
 woman to interfere with her slaves, or to have or to 
 keep a lover in her presence." 
 
 Natika lauirl«ed, and flashed a bright, bewildering 
 glance ui)on Victor. 
 
 "It is deliirhtful to have such a well-trained 
 and intelligent cousin as Victor. He is so intelli- 
 gent and helpful. It is very comfortable for me." 
 
148 PANOLA. 
 
 Victor bit his lip. He always came out worsted 
 from an encounter with Natika. 
 
 "The truth is, Mark, la grande et belle Miss 
 Clark is in love with Antony. Isn't it curious? 
 Such creatures as women do fancy ! I don't believe 
 Shakespeare exaggerated one particle when he made 
 Titania in love with Bottom. Antony Coolidge is 
 a psychological study to me; that's the reason I 
 suffer him. Hasn't he queer eyes? they are just 
 like those of a cuttle-fish ! they protrude so much, 
 and are so watery and pale-colored." 
 
 "A cuttle-fish is very sensitive," said Mark ; " it 
 blushes all over when irritated, and suffers. It 
 even covers itself with erected papilla. I have 
 pity for cuttle-fish ; they seem to have more sentient 
 and conscious life than other fishes." 
 
 '^ Perhaps they have," replied Xatika, with non- 
 chalance. " I suppose they also have a keener 
 sense of enjoyment than calmer fishes, so it is all 
 balanced. I declare, INIadame Boiling is very 
 charming ; she is a good study of fine color." 
 
 "What a true Greek you are, Xatika I" said 
 Mark, smiling; "a real sensuous Greek." 
 
 "' I like a perfect mind in a perfect body," said 
 Natika, gravely, leaning her elbows on the table and 
 her chin upou her elegantly-gloved hands, and look- 
 ing steadilv at Mark ; " I don't often find it." 
 
 "Xo one, and nothing will ever satisfy you," 
 exclaimed Victor. 
 
cousins' gossip. 140 
 
 "Perliaps not. I think I might have loved 
 Alcibiadcs — perhaps Pericles, or Columbus/' said 
 she, laujrhiniT. "There's not a man amono; the 
 Romans who would have attracted me. They are 
 too one-sided, and too stern.'' 
 
 "Wouldn't you have liked Antony? I mean 
 Mark Antony, not Antony Coolidge." 
 
 " Xo. Antonv drank too much, and was not 
 intellectual enough for me. I think if Socrates had 
 been handsomer I miii-ht have fancied him. How- 
 ever, Mark, you should have witnessed how Miss 
 Clark was bourgeoning and blossoming under the 
 melting influence of Antony's charms. She talked^ 
 absolutely talhexlj in a ceaseless, perpetual flow of 
 exceedingly uninteresting platitudes ; an inexhaus- 
 tible dribble that was nearly prostrating to ordinary 
 human intelligences. I did wish myself transformed 
 into a rock, or a deaf mute, or anything to escape 
 from it; once the floodgate lifted off her silence, the 
 infinitely small source appears to be exhaustless. 
 But Victor amiably sacrificed himself, and Antony 
 was flattered, as men always are." 
 
 Victor lau2:hed. 
 
 " Merci for my sex," said Mark, smiling. 
 
 " I always except you, !Mark," said Xatika, gather- 
 ing up her drapery. " I must go take off my hat." 
 
150 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 C II I C O R A ' S F A W X . 
 
 M.AEK had a fine talent for drawing and a 
 good eye for color, a gift of nature in which 
 he found great delight, and which he had cultivated 
 carefully both at home and in Europe. He often 
 spent whole days absorbed before his easel, which 
 had been carefully contrived so as to move readily 
 by mechanism, that he might reverse the usual order 
 of a painter's motions, for instead of rising and 
 walking back from his easel in order to judge of an 
 effect, poor Mark would shove the whole apparatus 
 off from him, controlling its movements by cords 
 and pulleys until he got the desired focus for his 
 eyes It was rather cumbrous, but he had learned 
 immense patience, and was very grateful for any 
 means by which the monotony and helplessness of 
 his life could be relieved. All of his small circle 
 took the deepest interest in everything that interested 
 him, so that his paintings were subjects of comment 
 and affectionate observation from their inception to 
 their finishing. Panola especially used to be never 
 weary of sitting by his side to watch his skilful 
 touches, and used to make superwomanly efforts to 
 2)rovide him with graceful subjects for his pencil. 
 She would bring him flowers, leaves, weeds, etc., for 
 
C II I C R a' S F A W X . 1-j1 
 
 his forogroiinds ; would sit immovably hour after 
 hour for the innumerable sketches Mark would 
 make of hcr.«?elf in every conceivable poetic or alle- 
 gorical pose. Mark painted all of his friends — 
 !N^atika, Victor, his grandfather, Lizbette, Cherokee 
 Joe, his stepmother, every body tiiat would sit to 
 him, and no one ever refused to do anything that 
 could give Mark pleasure. So he had all of them. 
 
 Victor was rummaging one day in Mark's studio, 
 when he came across a half-finished picture which 
 struck his fancy, and he asked Mark to explain the 
 desiirn. He recoii;nizcd the likenesses. 
 
 It was a fine portrait of Chicora. She was repre- 
 sented as sitting in a grove of noble trees, upon a 
 low bank covered with ffrass ; leanino; asrainst her 
 shoulder, with one arm encircling her mother's 
 graceful neck, was the little two-year-old Panola, 
 white as a snowflake; just the pale little child Vic- 
 tor remembered, looking whiter in contrast with the 
 rich roseate tintings of her mother's flesh. Chicora 
 was beautiful, with a warmth of color that Titian 
 would have rejoiced over ; she was represented in her 
 early youth, in the fullest splendor of her llfe-lovcli- 
 ness. Victor felt a rush of admiration that amounted 
 to a pang of pain as he looked upon the quiet pic- 
 ture and recalled the present condition of this tran- 
 scendently lovely woman. The eyes of the picture, 
 thousrh lar2:e and lustrous in their midnii^ht blJick- 
 ness, had not the expression of defiance and concen- 
 
152 PANOLA. 
 
 trated vitality tliat tliey now wore perpetually. In 
 the picture they were soft and tender as a iMadonna's. 
 The infant Panola stood upon one side of her mo- 
 ther, and upon the other, with one foot laid upon 
 Chicora's lap and the other lifted playfully pawing 
 in the air as if to attract her attention, was a noble 
 red deer, his antlers showing that he was only about 
 two years old. The deer was licking Chicora's 
 hand, as she encircled Panola's waist and pressed 
 the child closer to her maternal breast. 
 
 " What a beautiful picture ! " exclaimed Victor. 
 " What does it mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, that ! '^ replied IMark, pausing from his 
 work to glance up ; *^ that is Chicora and her chil- 
 dren. Did you never hear of Panola's foster-brother, 
 the wild deer?" 
 
 " No,'' said Victor ; " what about it ? " 
 
 *' When Panola was two or three months old 
 Chicora was nourishing her from her own brea-t, 
 and was in danger of suffering from the too abun- 
 dant secretion of milk. Grandpapa proposed she 
 should adopt another infant for a while, but there 
 were only little negro children to be found, and 
 Chicora could not subdue her repugnance to the 
 race, so grandpapa was much troubled, when one 
 day Cherokee Joe brought into Chicora's chamber a 
 young fawn of two days age, whose dam he had 
 shot. Chicora took the poor little beast, and it fed 
 from her bosom until it got old enough to feed itself, 
 
ciiicoka's fawn. 153 
 
 dividing her cares with Panola. It was really 
 tonchino: to see the creature's love for Panola and 
 Ciiicora ; it would crawl upon the couch by the 
 child and lie down by her when she was sleeping, 
 and lick her hands and feet ; when it grew older it 
 would never suffer a stranger to approach Panola : 
 it would spring into an attitude of defiance, and 
 stamp its hoofs and shake its head, already adorned 
 with soft antlers. It followed Chicora everywhere; 
 would lie down at her feet, and showed a wondrous 
 docility and intelligence ; somehow it seemed to have 
 imbibed a sort of human instinct from Chicora's 
 milk. It lived for several years, and when it died 
 Major Flanoy had it buried. I began to paint that 
 picture for him, but he died suddenly, and I never 
 completed it." 
 
 " I wish you would finish it for me," exclaimed 
 Victor. " It is so pretty and so queer ! I don't 
 wonder Panola has so much of the wild fawn about 
 her, since she had such a companion in her infancy. 
 Somehow it does not seem incongruous in Chicora, 
 her preferring the deer of the wild woods to an 
 African baby." 
 
 "No," replied !^^ark ; "there remains under all 
 the cultivation of Chicora and Panola a strain of 
 wildness and primeval shyness and reticence." 
 
 "' Do you know, I find that immensely attractive," 
 said Victor. 
 
 " It is because you are a true creature of the salon 
 
154 PANOLA. 
 
 you appreciate a touch of true, -svild nature," said 
 Mark, smiling. 
 
 *^ Will you complete the picture for me?" asked 
 Victor, not rejilying to Clark's words, but gazing 
 on the picture intensely. It fascinated him. 
 
 " Yes, with pleasure." 
 
 "Thanks. I shall value it. It is the reverse 
 of the storv of Genevieve of Brabant, is it 
 not?" 
 
 " Yes, the dove fed Genevieve, but Chicora fed 
 the deer," said ]\Iark. 
 
 " She is close kin to primeval nature anyhow," 
 said Victor, " and she — is very beautiful." 
 
 Note by Author. — This incident of suckling a fawn by a 
 Southern lady is taken from real life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 A sage's philosophy. 
 
 " r^ RAXDPAPA," exclaimed Xatika, one day 
 VI>^ when they were all gathered, as usual, 
 about Mark in the study; ^'grandpapa, do you 
 call yourself a Comtist?" she glanced at the book 
 which her grandfather was reading — it was ^' Comte's 
 Philosophy." 
 
A sage's PIIILOSOPnT. 1-j5 
 
 *' No," replied the docteur, looking up from his 
 page, meditatively. '' I do not call myself anyzing 
 as yet, Natika. I zink I slionld razer be classed 
 in a ver' general and wide classification among zie 
 order of zie Christians; of course, perhaps of a 
 peculiar species." 
 
 Victor laughed aloud. ''A vcnj peculiar species, 
 I think, grandpapa," he said. 
 
 The old man looked at him gravely, then afler a 
 moment's silence he said : 
 
 " My chief object in life is to search after the 
 truth, wherever it may be found. I cannot zay I 
 haf found more zan I really haf done. jNIy powers 
 and senses are very limited. I have studied not wiz 
 pride, neider arrogance, but wiz deep humilitee, and 
 great willingness to learn, in any way, some little 
 truth from anybody at all. I have immense 
 sympathie wiz aspiration after perfection, anywhere 
 and anyhow. AVherever life is, I find zat life won- 
 derful, miraculous, mysterious — an atom in zie 
 Divine, a part in zie Infinite! I have immense 
 rcspeck for all life, for zie ordered Kosmos, for zie 
 creative power ; zat I admire, I reverence, I adore, 
 I love ! " 
 
 The old man put his hands gently together, as if 
 in prayer, as he spoke, and his eyes glowed, his thin 
 face became radiant, and a slight flush crept over 
 his sallow cheeks. He bowed his head rever- 
 ently as he uttered the last words. His grand- 
 
156 PANOLA. 
 
 children looked at him with tender, respectful eyes. 
 The intense earnestness with which he spoke was 
 most impressive. The old man paused and then 
 continued : 
 
 " I know not much. I have been able to form- 
 ulate but little of a system of religion for myself. 
 I find zie essential truths whose highest utterance 
 has come from zie lips of Jesus Christ. I find 
 someting of zose truths in all periods, and in all 
 zie high teachings of zie world from pre-historic 
 times. I like not names ; I like not partisanship; 
 I like not zie narrow teachings of theology any- 
 where ; I like not too much definition. I love zie 
 good everywhere ; I love zie truth everywhere ; I 
 love what you call God, zie all Fader ; I love man. 
 I reverence life and organization, mental, physical 
 and moral. I zink zere has not been any teacher 
 like Jesus; I zink he had more of zie divine life in 
 his manhood dan any ozer. So far, he has taught 
 zie best I know. I like zie Christ spirit ; it is zie 
 right spirit, zie divine spirit. I zink I am j^i'etty 
 much of a Christian, Natika.'' 
 
 " Grandpapa, are you a Pantheist, then ? " asked 
 Victor. 
 
 " No," said jMark, " he is rather what Krause 
 calls a ^ pan-en-tlieist^ — not ^ en-kai-pan,' but ^pan- 
 en-theo.' " 
 
 " Your distinctions are too subtle for me," said 
 Victor, yawning. 
 
ASTRONOMICAL CALCULATION. 157 
 
 Natika looked at Victor half contemptuously, 
 and pityingly. 
 
 " Your brain is too light for metaphysics," she 
 said. 
 
 " Natika has the brain of the Greek ; it is subtle 
 and mobile," said Docteur Canonge, smilingly. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 THE ASTRONOMICAL CALCULATION. 
 
 ^' "1\ /TAKK, I wish I was as calm and equable 
 -^'^-L as you are," exclaimed Victor, after he 
 had been spending an hour in trying to read a 
 French novel, in restlessly marching up and down 
 the room, in snapping his fingers by pulling the 
 knuckle-bones out suddenly, and then allowing 
 them to relapse into their joints, in whistling and 
 humming snatches of favorite arias, and in watching 
 Katika's white hands as they moved lightly and 
 gracefully over her embroidery frame, for this morn- 
 ing Xatika had been seized with a fit of industry 
 and domesticitv. 
 
 "I really should like you to be a little less rest- 
 less, Victor," replied ^Mark, with a good-humored 
 smile; "at least until I complete this calculation for 
 grandpapa — an astronomical one that goes into dif- 
 
loS PANOLA. 
 
 ferential calculus, and is not ho very easy for me to 
 make." 
 
 " Easy enough for grandpapn," said Xatika. 
 *' Why don't he make it himself?'^ 
 
 "He has not time to-day," said Mark, quietly. 
 "I like to aid him, and it is very good in him to 
 accept of my poor help sometimes." 
 
 Xatika glanced at her cousin with a flash in her 
 eye, then smiled as she said merrily: 
 
 "'Get thee behind me, Satan !^ I wish you would 
 not always be so irreproachable, i\Iark. It is really 
 fatiguing to have to keep up with so much virtue 
 and goodness." 
 
 "'And the Athenians grew weary of hearing 
 Aristides called the Just/" sententiously quoted 
 Victor from Grecian history. 
 
 " Behold Saul among the Prophets ! " retorted 
 Xatika. 
 
 " Xatika," said Victor, gravely, " you are a very 
 exhausting person. You are worse than quicksilver. 
 You are never at rest. You are an incarnated kal- 
 eidoscope ; you can converse on any subject with an 
 awful Greek loquacity. You inherit all this from 
 your ancestors. Why don't you imbibe tranquillity 
 from ]Mark or — Panola?" 
 
 "Panola!" exclaimed Xatika, scornfully; "Pan- 
 ola ! am I to take lessons in deportment from a — " 
 Xatika hesitated ; she caught Mark's eye fixed 
 gravely upon her. "Well; you are part Indian 
 yourself, Mark," she concluded, half apologetically. 
 
ASTRONOMICAL CALCULATION. 159 
 
 "Yes," said ]\[ark, "I have no doubt Panola and 
 I both owe much of our power of self-control to our 
 aboriginal forefathers. I, for one, am very thank- 
 ful to them for the quality — even if I appear souie- 
 Avhat stolid and impassive." 
 
 "It is a good coating of armor against the 'stings 
 and arrows of outrageous fortune,' " said Victor ; 
 " or even against Natika's shafts of Attic -wit and 
 sarcasm." 
 
 " Don't be silly," said Xatlka ; " it bores me ! " 
 
 " Why do you ' bore ' Xatika?" exclaimed Docteur 
 Canonge, emerging from his laboratory with an 
 open book in his outstretched hand. "Good-morn- 
 ing, my dearest children. Yuu are well and happy 
 to-day, I trust?" The old man embraced his 
 granddaughter and kissed her; then in his affection- 
 ate French way he kissed his grandsons each upon 
 the forehead, as was his morning custom in greeting 
 them. "I am rather late this morning," he con- 
 tinued, "but I was up nearly all night watching the 
 transit of a star, and I overslept myself; but I have 
 gained someting! I have discovered a mistake' 
 of five seconds in ^[oedler's calculations. I shall 
 proceed immediately to acquaint him with it. You 
 have finish the calculation, Mark? I did wish to 
 verify mine with yours." 
 
 Mark handed the paper he had been calculating 
 to his grandfather. The old man cast his eye 
 rapidly over the columns of figures : his face glowed. 
 
ICO PAXOLA. 
 
 "It is correc' ; I liavc right ; it is full five seconds 
 zat Moedler was wrong ! I zauk you ver' much, 
 J^.Iark ! '^ 
 
 " Pshaw ! grandpapa ! '^ said Xatika, biting off 
 the end of her floss to thread her needle. " What 
 great difference would five seconds make anyhow?" 
 
 "Five seconds of time in a transit!" exclaimed 
 Docteur Canonge. " Five seconds — zat is a great 
 deal ! It make difference of many zousand miles in 
 de distance of a star ! " 
 
 Xatika put up her red lips and smiled. " If it 
 pleases you, grandpapa/' she said, softly, in flute-like 
 tones, " it is well ! " 
 
 " You do not care so much for science, Xatika," 
 said Docteur Canon 2:e. 
 
 "I care for you, dear grandpapa," replied the 
 siren in her gentlest dove-notes — there were ex- 
 quisite cadences in Xatika's voice when she chose to 
 use them. 
 
 " What book have you got there in your hand ? " 
 she continued, wishing to please her grandfather. 
 
 " Zis is de ^ Bhagrat Gita,' the great hymn of 
 e;od of ze Hindoos — zat is de meaning: of Bhacrrat : 
 Bhaga, god — ^gita, poem or song. It is de Bible 
 of ze Hindoo. An' ver' good Bible, I zink." 
 
 "Grandpapa!" exclaimed Xatika, holding up 
 her hands, "grandpapa, what will the cure say to 
 that?" 
 
 Docteur Cauonge shrugged his shoulders. "I 
 
ASTROXO.AIICAL CALCULATION. IGl 
 
 care not for wliat he will say ; I zink ^vhat I zink ! 
 In zis book I find ze germs of most modern theol- 
 ogy. It is not less ze truth because it was also 
 known to zose Hindoos before ze day of Moise. I 
 have great respek for Moise, but I zink he learn 
 much from ze Egyptians, who did also learn all zey 
 did know from zose Hindoos.'^ 
 
 Xatika laughed and clapped her hands. " Grand- 
 papa, you would have been excommunicated and 
 burnt up by the gooel Catholics of the middle 
 ages ! '' 
 
 " Probablement ; but I zink I keep ze true 
 essence of ze Christian faith ; so I care not for ze 
 mint and ze cumin of small dogmas. I shall tell 
 you a story, Xatika." 
 
 "Why don't you say ^narrative,' grandpapa?" 
 said Victor, gayly laughing. " You never heard 
 that story, Xatika. Grandpapa had a French friend 
 here w^ho wished to learn English, and grandpapa 
 undertook to teach him. Grandpapa explained to 
 him that a story, a talc, and a narrative meant all 
 the same thing. So the pupil undertook one day 
 to tell an anecdote of a long-tailed monkey; and he 
 called it a ' very much narratived monkey,' so we 
 got the joke on grandpapa ! " 
 
 Docteur Canonge laughed merrily. "It is all 
 true, Xatika. Zis shall be, however, not ' a very 
 much narrative,' but a short talc of my monkey." 
 10 
 
162 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 THE STORY OF ODIX. 
 
 '^ f I ^HERE lived in the rich garden land of the 
 -*-.• world, which lies at the foot of the Hima- 
 layas, a great king, the first of all mankind, the 
 Avisest and the noblest. This great king was named 
 Arya, and he had many sons and daughters, until 
 the land of Paradise became too short and too nar- 
 row for them all to dwell in. So he called them 
 one by one to his presence, and he gave them gifts 
 and he sent them away to seek other lands and new 
 Paradises; and they went forth weeping, bearing 
 costly gifts of gold and pearl and silken garments 
 fine as the woven wind; and they found new homes, 
 some near by, some farther oif from their father's 
 house; and at last all were sent away but the 
 youngest and the eldest born, who was to be king 
 after his father. And finally, the youngest was to 
 go, and his father gave him snow-white horses, and 
 a golden circlet for his head, and bands of gold 
 upon his arms, and he also gave to him, besides the 
 garments of silk, other wrappings of wool and fur ; 
 for Odin, that was his name, had to go far, far 
 away beyond the homes of his elder brothers, who 
 had built up royal cities in all the lands they liad 
 taken possession of. That was all King Arya had 
 
THE STORY OF ODIN. 16 
 
 o 
 
 to give to Odin, his youngest son, besides the strong 
 bow and arrow, and the battle-axe of stone, which 
 Arva liad used to slay tigers and elephants with. 
 Years and years now passed away. Arya was 
 gathered to his fathers, and his eldest son reigned 
 in his stead. Ages fled. The family of the great 
 king still lived in the garden land of the Hima- 
 layas. They lived as they had ever lived, keeping 
 up all the old traditions of the father land, and the 
 Paradise grew poor and barren from the over-popu- 
 lousness, and the growth of rusty superstitions 
 which overspread the minds of its inhabitants. 
 Occasionally they would hear of, or hold intercourse 
 with, their relatives who had settled in the gardens 
 of Persia and Assyria and Egypt, and even still 
 further in Greece and Pome. Thev never forirot 
 their kinship. Indeed, it told itself in the likeness 
 of the peoples, in their habits, language, religions. 
 There were wonderful dramas enacted in this e:reat 
 family of the descendants of King Arya. But they 
 never heard of the fate of the youngest born, the 
 beloved Odin. Pie was supposed to be lost and 
 entombed among the polar snows and ice. Ages 
 passed, and still the family of the elder brother 
 Hindus lived, half-sleeping, in their hot old ances- 
 tral home, when suddenly there came a lightning 
 flash which circled round the earth.^' 
 
 " Telegraph," whispered Victor to Xatika. Doc- 
 teur Canouge smiled and nodded his head. 
 
1G4 PANOLA. 
 
 "A ll;rlitninfx flash which startled them from their 
 shunber. It brought greetings from the sons of 
 Odin to their brethren. They had wrestled with 
 nature in their cold northern home until they had 
 won priceless gifts and secrets from her, and they came 
 now, bearing all these precious gifts of science and 
 art, of wisdom and skill, back to clasp the hands of 
 their brothers, and thus to close the great golden 
 circle of humanity, the glorious bond of family life 
 amonsrst the children of the g-reat Kino: Arva. And 
 they also brought back fully developed and much 
 changed the traditions of their early faith. They 
 gave into the hands of their brethren, instead of 
 this book—" 
 
 Docteur Canonge took up his book and smoothed 
 it gently with one hand while he spoke: "They 
 gave to them — descendants of this book — they gave 
 them the Zenda Vista, and the Koran, and the 
 Hebrew Scriptures, and the Greek and Syriac Tes- 
 tament, and all the civilizations and all the knowl- 
 edge that had grown out of all these, and instead 
 of the circlet of gold the children of Odin wore — " 
 
 ^' Silk and beaver hats ! " said Victor. 
 
 '^Bonnets and plumes! " said Natika. 
 
 " Casques of mail and war feathers ! " said ^lark. 
 
 " No," said Docteur Canonge. " Ye Indians of 
 America w^ere not Aryans — not ^ war feathers,' but 
 ^casques of mail.' Yes, perhaps ! 
 
 "And they walked on the sea with white-winged 
 
THE STORY OF ODIN. 1G5 
 
 ships, and carried thunder and lightning in their 
 pockets (pistols, you know), and ran express trains 
 with smoking, chained, and fettered dragons," said 
 Victor, laughing. 
 
 " Grandpapa, that is a lovely narrative," ex- 
 claimed Xatika, throwing her arms about the old 
 man^s neck and kissing; him. "And I shall alwavs 
 ever hereafter respect the old family Bible, the 
 Bhagavat Gita." 
 
 Docteur Canonge pressed Xatika to his bosom, 
 and went off with his book held aloft in triumph 
 above his bald head. ^lark called after him tim- 
 idly. Mark disliked so much to shake his grand- 
 father's confidence in himself. But he summoned 
 up courage to say now what he had been thinking. 
 * Grandpapa, did you make allowance for ^personal 
 equation ' in seeing that transit?" 
 
 Docteur Canonge stopped short, put down his 
 book, smiled in a curious, puzzled, half-ashamed 
 way. Then he pulled out his snuff-box, took a 
 pinch out of it, and said slowly and half-reluc- 
 tantly : 
 
 " Xo, I don't— believe I did ! " 
 
 !Mark looked down at his own figures on the 
 paper,-^" Would not it be helicr to — " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted the docteur, '^ of course it 
 will be better ; perhaps ]\Ioedler is not so far wrong 
 as five seconds after all." 
 
166 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 LOVE ^A' I L L RULE. 
 
 DOCTEUH CANOXGE was greatly trmibled 
 in niiiid about Mark. He thought that 
 Mark had been so cruelly treated by his brother's 
 will that it seemed as if the kind old man sought in 
 every possible way to give expression to his own 
 tenderness for his afflicted grandson. Mark felt 
 this, and exerted himself as much as possible to be 
 cheerful and even gay, for fear of his grandfather's 
 suspecting him of brooding over what was indeed a 
 disappointment, for Mark felt most bitterly his 
 helpless dependence upon the active but feeble old 
 man, who lived up to his small income, and whose 
 only regret was that he had no more to give ; and 
 as yet there did not appear any possibility of relief 
 from this heavy dependence for poor Mark. Mark 
 would have gladly changed j^laces with the healthy 
 Irish ditcher, whom he saw digging away at the 
 earth, and wheeling his scrapers full of dirt in 
 building up the great levees. 
 
 One morning Docteur Canonge proposed at the 
 breakfast table that Mark should make one more 
 trial for the recovery of the use of his limbs by 
 going again to the Arkansas hot springs for a few 
 weeks. When he was there before he got so much 
 
LOVE ^ILL RULE. 167 
 
 better (hat he could stand upon his feet, though still 
 unable to walk; but the hot vapor baths, while they 
 seemed to benefit him in one respect, had weakened 
 him so much in others, that the resident physician 
 had advised his leaving the place and abandoning 
 the use of the Avaters. 
 
 Natika listened, while her grandfather passed his 
 enloo;ium on the wonderful effects of the hot and 
 mud baths, and then said she believed she would go 
 too, as the vapor baths had great cosmetic power. 
 Natika had spied a small pimple on her face, and 
 she fancied that if there were any humors in the 
 skin, she would get rid of them by these vapor 
 baths. Mark was willing to please his grandfather, 
 though he had little hope himself of any great 
 benefit; the surgeons had told him so repeatedly that 
 no external impulse or application would be of any 
 avail to him, that the circulation of the interrupted 
 nerve force must come from internal matter, that 
 the impulse must proceed directly from his own 
 brain. 
 
 *' One powerful rush of life-force might do it," 
 said they. 
 
 Victor was piqued at Xatika's making her plans 
 independently of him, so he played with his teaspoon 
 on the edge of his cup, while the others were dis- 
 cussing their preliminary arrangements, and when 
 his grandfather alluded to him as being of course 
 included in the proposed i^arty for the jaunt, he 
 
168 PANOLA. 
 
 electrified the small company by declaring that he 
 for one had no fancy for the trip, and preferred to 
 remain where he was. " Lizbette would take care 
 of him," he said, *' and he should go shooting with 
 Cherokee Joe, ])lay billiards with young Smith, and 
 go to see Miss Panola and her mother." 
 
 Xatika's eyes flashed when she heard this defiant 
 proclamation of his independence ; but she knew 
 him too well to press the matter, or to say anything 
 to chansre his resolution. She knew Victor would 
 weary sooner than she would of their separation. 
 So she kept silence while Docteur Canonge and Mark 
 expostulated with Victor and tried to persuade him 
 to change his resolution, and to accompany the 
 party. Like all weak natures with strong desires 
 and of infirm impulses Victor was very jealous of 
 the appearance of being influenced by others. He 
 thouoht it showed a strous: mind and was manly to 
 stick to his own way, even when reason would show 
 him that the way of others was probably better than 
 his. He had no real ])rinclples, but he was very 
 obstinate in opinions and in small matters. Xatika 
 understood him thorouglily. She often had some 
 contempt for him mingled with her real affection for 
 him, which latter was as much the growth of habit 
 and gratification of the sense of power as a real 
 preference for Victor. If she . had real preference 
 for any human being it was for ]\Iark, not Victor. 
 Victor remained inflexible in liis determination: 
 to the Arkansas springs he would not go. 
 
LOVE WILL RULE. IGO 
 
 Just as tlie party arose from the table and ^Nlark 
 was wheeled into his study, the dcor bell rang, 
 and Antony Coolidge was announeed. He had 
 come by appointment to drive out with Natika. 
 Victor looked gloomily after her as she drove past 
 the window of Mark's room. Seeins; him standino- 
 she kissed her hand gracefully to him in token of 
 adieu. The loveliest smile shone upon her face. 
 She was imperturbable in her good humor. Victor 
 looked after the buggy as it vanished in the dis- 
 tance, and then, turning away from the window 
 with a muttered curse, threw himself down in a 
 chair near ^lark, who was reading as usual. Mark 
 looked u[). Victor was sitting with his head buried 
 in his hands. 
 
 "Victor," said Mark, laying down his book, 
 " Victor, there are only us three cousins to care 
 for each other in this world — that is, of our own 
 family. I have the love of a brother for you and 
 for ^atika. May I use the freedom of a brother 
 and s})eak out frankly to you ? '' 
 
 "Say any thing you please," said Victor, bitterly. 
 "I don't promise that I shall take any advice you 
 may please to proffer. I don't like advice, but I 
 Avill listen to what you have to say, if that suits 
 you." 
 
 " ^yell, what I have to say is this, dear Victor. 
 You loveXatika?" 
 
 " Yes," bitterly said Victor. 
 
170 PANOLA. 
 
 " Docs she return your love?" 
 
 " No." This was scornfully said by Victor. 
 
 " Then why waste your whole life in this useless 
 pursuit of a woman who does not love you?" 
 
 " Because I can't help it. Because Natika is my 
 fate. Do you suppose I have not struggled ? Do 
 you suppose I like to be the slave of this woman's 
 whims and caprices ? Again and again I have said 
 to myself all and more than you can possibly say 
 to me on this subject. I have kept away ; I have 
 tried dissipations, other scenes, and have always 
 gone back to her, and I know I always shall. 
 Tsatika is the curse of my life and yet all the joy 
 of it." 
 
 " Victor, what I am going to say to you is more 
 important to you than even the moral objections 
 you may have urged against love for Xatika. You 
 ought not to marry Natika, even if she were willing. 
 My reasons are solely medical ones. I have 
 watched you both carefully, and I tell you now that 
 both Natika and yourself are inclined to be con- 
 sumptive, and that if you marry, the lungs of the 
 weaker one, wdiichever it may be, will certainly fail, 
 and one will die. I have observed this fact so 
 frequently. I have so often seen the weak lungs 
 of the husband relieved by the wife taking his 
 disease from him and perishing in consequence, and 
 vice versa. Now I forewarn you, that will be your 
 fate, for Natika is stronger than you are, and if 
 you marry, she will be your death unconsciously.' 
 
 „ » 
 
LOVE WILL RULE. 171 
 
 "So be it/' said Victor, sombrely. •'I have 
 been told this before. A gypsy said as much 
 once Avheii we had our fortunes told in England. 
 She told me my love for Natika would cause my 
 death. I expect it will some way or other, but I 
 think I shall blow my brains out some day. I 
 won't wait to die of consumption." 
 
 "Oh, Victor!" ejaculated Mark, truly shocked 
 at the light manner of his cousin. "Oh, Victor! 
 
 God forbid ! " 
 
 " Needs must when the devil drives," replied 
 Victor. " What a stupid fool Antony Coolidge is ! 
 Poor moth, to burn himself in that flame. I could 
 find it in my heart to grieve for Antony. I know 
 where he will end : in the bottom of the bayou, or 
 in the mad house, or in the inebriate asylum, or on 
 the end of a rope. Alas, for Antony ! He is in 
 the net of the Cleopatra who will only laugh and 
 mock at him, and fling him otf when she is wearied, 
 as a child does a scjucczed orange." 
 
172 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 HOT SPRIXGS OF ARKANSAS. 
 
 (( 23 , 
 
 ^i~|y^Y DEAR VICTOR: 
 
 -L»-jL It was quite a pleasure to hear from you 
 again, aud to learn that you were so happy in the 
 society of Miss Flanoy and the other fair dam- 
 sels of the carapagne. I delivered your messages to 
 grandpapa and to Mark. They were obliged for 
 your remembrance of them. I don't think Mark is 
 improving at all in health, thougli grandpapa is very 
 reluctant to concede the fact ; and jNIark is so very 
 patient and considerate that he is not willing to de- 
 stroy suddenly the airy fabric built up by grand- 
 papa's sanguine hopefulness. Mark is weaker than 
 he was, and I think he will have soon to give up 
 the use of these powerful baths. I have been taking 
 them moderately. Undoubtedly they are great 
 cosmetics, for I never had such roses and lilies ia 
 my face before. I am very glad I came, for it is a 
 good preparation for my winter campaign in Paris. 
 
 " This is a rough but interesting place. The 
 country must have been of volcanic origin. There 
 are innumerable hot springs ; I believe, more than 
 eighty on this low mountain, sending up steam and 
 vapor continually. The water is hot enough to boil 
 
HOT SPRINGS OF ARKANSAS. 173 
 
 an egg in, antl tlicre are places "where beautiful 
 crystals of rock quartz are found, and great quan- 
 tities of magnetic loadstones; plenty of white lime- 
 stones, with red veins through it, almost marble in 
 hardness. I found a beautiful piece with an ex- 
 quisite fossil leaf in it yesterday. There is also 
 sandstone here, and jet. Onyx and large garnets 
 are also found. 
 
 " There are many guests here, chiefly composed 
 of invalids. It is rather a Bethesda, but one always 
 finds somebody worth seeing and talking to. I 
 have not been yet ennuiee. I have a good deal of 
 amusement in watching Mark. All the women 
 here are taken with him, and it is funny to see how 
 thev run after him. There are several here that I 
 call Miis train,^ who never let him have a moment's 
 peace, they are so devoted. It is a study to me, who, 
 you know, am rather accustomed to see things done 
 differently, that is, to see men eperdus for women. 
 It teases Mark a good deal. But he is gentle and 
 polite. I tell him he is gently cruel to his adora- 
 teuses. They seem to be on the watch for him ; 
 they time their meals to suit his; they bring him 
 wild flowers (which are extremely beautiful here) ; 
 they bring him offerings of crystals and jet, and all 
 sorts of stones and weeds and leaves and fruits. 
 They read the most tender poems to him. They 
 write him feeble verses. They watch his face. They 
 exist only in the sunshine of his smile. One of 
 
174 PANOLA. 
 
 them, rather an okl girl, who wears spectacles and 
 does up the principal literary characters, is perversely 
 jealous, even of me ! I think, according to your 
 transmigration theory, she was evolved through the 
 frogs ; she has that sort of a face. IMark is getting 
 tired of it. He does not like the painful rank of a 
 beau in society. I think he will soon persuade 
 grandpapa to go home. 
 
 " I have just had a letter from the Reads, in New- 
 York. They sail soon for Europe. I think I shall 
 join them. There is a family going from this place 
 to New York next week. So I shall probably not 
 return to Louisiana with grandpapa and ]Mark. If 
 you should be in Paris next winter, you will proba- 
 bly find me, as usual, at my cousin, Madame Ron- 
 her's. I expect I shall meet you some day unex- 
 pectedly on the drive of the Bois de Boulogne, 
 jusqu'a cetteheure de ravissement. I am, dear 
 Victor, your cousin and friend, Natika. 
 
 " p, S, — Antony Coolidge has been here a week. 
 He begins to be tiresome. ]\Iark has just rolled 
 himself out to my side on this verandah, where I 
 am writing ; and here appear the train also. It is 
 astonishing, the necessity of ordinary women for 
 something to gush over upon. They must expend 
 the overflow of sentiment in their tender bosoms, 
 whether it be on parrots, or poodles, or men. For 
 my part I prefer poodles, though you never had any 
 patience with Fanfan. She likes the warm baths 
 
IN THE DARK HOURS. 175 
 
 here very much. I take her in every clay. It is 
 good for her health." 
 
 " I wonder why women like Natika are fo satiri- 
 cal towards their own sex/' thought Victor. " The 
 two women I know best, she and Panola, are cer- 
 tainly not given ' to gush,' as she calls it. God 
 knows she is as changeable as a chameleon and very 
 difficult to keep pleased with anything ; that is just 
 her charm. And Panola is cold as an iceberg. It 
 would be interesting to thaw her snow. She is far 
 the nobler woman. But then Natika is so cursedly 
 fascinating. Other women are so commonplace be- 
 side her ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XA'III. 
 
 IN THE DARK HOURS. 
 
 YICTOR managed to occupy his days in shoot- 
 ing, fishing, driving and riding. The even- 
 ings he generally spent at Mrs. Flanoy's. He asked 
 permission of her to come there freely, appealing to 
 her charity for relief from loneliness, or the society 
 of old Lizbette. jSIrs. Flanoy liked Victor. She 
 was pleased to have him come to see her. She liked 
 
176 PANOLA. 
 
 his singing and liis graceful, pleasant ways. Panola 
 liked him, too, and was grateful to him for his evi- 
 dent admiration of her mother, and for the care he 
 took to please Mrs. Flanoy. 
 
 Music was a great bond between Panola and Vic- 
 tor ; and then Victor was Mark's cousin, and he re- 
 sembled Mark a good deal. It was pleasant to 
 look at eyes so like to JNIark's in color and shape, 
 though they differed in expression. And it was 
 somethinoi: novel to the vouns: Panola to receive 
 from a yOung man all the graceful little courtesies 
 which their constant intercourse enabled Victor to 
 proffer to her when they were so much together, 
 and very often alone together. It was impossible 
 for a man of sentiment not to be sometimes rather 
 more tender in voice and manner than occasion 
 seemed to necessitate. It was natural impulse be- 
 tween the sexes. 
 
 Victor had no intention of making love to Panola, 
 but he did it, and sometimes he cursed himself for 
 doing it. For, however he might amuse himself 
 with other women, he hneic that his inner heart 
 never failed in its deep habit of allegiance toXatika. 
 With all her faults, she was the one and only woman 
 he really desired on the earth. Her indifference and 
 coquetry only rivetted his chains the closer, because 
 it made any consummation of his hopes so very un- 
 certain. He was angry with Natika. He said to 
 himself a thousand times that he would not follow 
 
IN THE DARK HOURS. 177 
 
 her back to Paris. lie repeated it the oftener that he 
 distrusted his own resohitioii. If Xatika should 
 write him one single tender or flattering line, he 
 knew he should certainly be a passenger on the next 
 steamer for Havre. Yet he tried to make himself 
 in love with Panola. There were hours in which 
 he fancied he had partially succeeded. 
 
 The magnetic power of her mother over him he 
 fully recognized. If Chicora had been well and in 
 any condition to justify such a feeling, Victor sus- 
 pected it just possible that she might inspire him 
 w^ith a passion almost as powerful as. that which he 
 felt for Natika. But Panola, in all the splendor of 
 her beauty, never would ! Yet he had a sort of 
 jealous dislike at the thought of any other man's 
 ever possessing Panola. He did not want her him- 
 self, but he did not want anybody else to have her. 
 So his conduct became fitful and capricious towards 
 Panola. The young girl's manner never varied 
 much. She was always calm, cold, and loftily cour- 
 teous to Victor. She liked him best when he was 
 simply a hon eamarade in his manner towards her- 
 self. For, when he paid her lover-like attentions, 
 Panola felt as if a sort of ice-crust slowly formed 
 itself over her heart. The touch of his hand, if it 
 pressed hers, did not warm her, but produced a sen- 
 sation of torpidity and an impulse of repulsion. 
 
 AVhen Mark and his grandfather returned, they 
 fijuud Victor still living at Docteur Canonge's ; but 
 11 
 
178 PANOLA. 
 
 after they had been home a week, Victor suddenly de- 
 parted for New Orleans, and they did not hear from 
 him for several months. 
 
 About this time the Confederate war broke out, 
 and when next they heard from Victor, he was en- 
 listed iu the southern army and had got a commis- 
 sion on a generaPs staflP. In his letter he mentioned 
 casually that he had a letter from Xatika; that she 
 was enscao^ed to be married to an " Italian marchese." 
 " But,'' wrote Victor, ^' Natika's being engaged is no 
 positive certainty that she will ever marry this man ! 
 She has been engaged before this. Antony Coolidge 
 is gone to the dogs. The foolish fellow followed 
 Natika abroad, was scornfully dismissed by her, and 
 he has just given himself up to the wiklest sort of a 
 life. He is as often in the gutters as anywhere else. 
 He has no ])Ower of resistance or of recuperation in 
 him. Once the rein given to the neck of his un- 
 governable appetites, which were the poor fellow's 
 inheritance with his mixed blood, he is gone. He 
 is here. I have tried to do what I could for him, 
 but it has ended in nothing. The quicker the 
 misery and the degradation is over for him, the 
 better. The man was not devoid of good qualities 
 if Katika had let him alone. He is good-natured 
 and docile, and rather affectionate ; but his passion 
 for Natika has unloosed the hyena in his nature, 
 and now his appetites for wickedness and debauchery 
 and the lowest sensual indulgences are insatiable! 
 
IX THE DARK nOURS. 179 
 
 His niotlicr had better come to look after him. She 
 can stay hhn in his mad career of Avicked fully. I 
 have Avritteii frankly to her, for as much as I dislike 
 her I suppose she has some maternal instincts 
 left.'' 
 
 Victor's letter must have produced its effect, for 
 Madame Boiling quitted the Pavilion and went off 
 to her son. She did not return for several months. 
 When she came back she was robed in mourning; 
 her sou had died by his own hand in a fit of mania 
 potu. Madame seemed to be very much distressed. 
 It was doubtless a grief to her. She had schemed 
 and plotted, perhaps had committed crimes to ad- 
 vance the interests of her son, and he had despised 
 her counsels and mocked at her wishes. He had 
 forsaken Panola and gone madly after Natika, who 
 lauo;hed at him. 
 
 Madame was very pale when she returned to the 
 Pavilion. It was well, perhaps, that the ocean 
 rolled between Natika and this sorely-afflicted mo- 
 ther, for Madame Boiling was not a woman to sit 
 down patiently or resignedly under a real or a 
 fancied injury. She always had found some means 
 of veno-eance on her foes, but she knew the great 
 virtue of patience. Madame used to say, '^ the one 
 needful quality in this world was patience to wait for 
 opportunity." " The world is round, and it turns, 
 and people meet," she used to quote from the 
 Italian. So she returned to cultivate her little gar- 
 
ISO PANOLA. 
 
 den and to be sweetly amiable to her niece and to 
 her disagreeable sister-in-law, wdio never permitted 
 her to enter into her apartment. Mrs. Flanoy was 
 very positive in her prejudices, and her daughter 
 and servants had long before learned the inflexibility 
 of her will. 
 
 The war surged around the quiet neighborhood. 
 All the young men had gone into the army. Mark 
 chafed more and more against his helplessness. 
 Half the Cherokees, with Satana at their head, had 
 joined the Confederate army under General Albert 
 Pike, of Arkansas. 
 
 Year after year rolled on until the last eventful 
 one, when the contest was being ended so far as open 
 fighting went. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ]\r A R K I E D IX HASTE. 
 
 ACCIDENTAL circumstances l)rought Victor 
 -^-^ once more near his grandfather, and it was 
 but natural that he should seek to see the old gen- 
 tleman. Mark and the old docteur were delio;hted 
 to see him, one fine spring morning, enter the well- 
 known study. 
 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 181 
 
 Victor was looking finely. He had gained 
 strength and manliness under his late experiences, 
 and had made a very good soldier. He had 
 come to stay ^' one week/' he said, " then his furlough 
 would be over.^' Victor enjoyed the quiet, lounging 
 life, the comfortable fare and ease of his grand- 
 father's house greatly. He said it was worth being 
 deprived of ordinary comforts to enjoy them after- 
 wards. " He had not been comfortable or seen a 
 pretty woman for years." He asked after Panola. 
 " She was well," Mark said, " but her mother was 
 failing fast. The stiffness was spreading. It had 
 seemed to stop for a long time, and then quite re- 
 cently it had come on again." Victor said he would 
 ride over in a day or so and see the Flanoys. 
 
 "Cherokee Joe was still there," Mark said, iu 
 reply to Victor's C|uestion. " His family also were 
 living in a wigwam, built out in^ the bit of copse 
 w^ood on the Flanoy estate. His wife made baskets 
 and sewed and washed for ^Irs. Flanoy, whose 
 white servants had all left her. Panola does almost 
 everything with her own hands," said Mark ; " ex- 
 cept for the little aid she gets from Joe's wife, and 
 some little from Joe himself, she does every thing. 
 But Mrs. Flanoy does not feel the change ; Panola 
 keeps her perfectly comfortable." 
 
 ;Mark went on to tell Victor that Panola not only 
 took care of her mother, but that she also found 
 time to see after himself and his grandfather, and to 
 
182 PANOLA. 
 
 help her annt Boiling. "Panola has her sewing- 
 machine," Mark said, *' and she made all sorts of 
 clothing and little comfortable articles for all three 
 households. She has entirely overcome her Indian 
 dislike of manual labor. Her little hands are get- 
 ting hardened from unaccustomed work." 
 
 " Have you heard from Xatika lately ? " asked 
 Mark, his thoughts making contrast of the position 
 of the two women. 
 
 "Yes," replied Victor, gloomily, "she broke off 
 with the marchese. I knew she would." 
 
 " AVhere is she ? " asked Mark. 
 
 "In Paris, very comfortable and happy," said 
 Victor, bitterly. " Xatika does not care for country 
 or kinship, you know; that is, unless she should be 
 attracted by the mere excitement of the thing to feel 
 a transient impulse of patriotism. Xatika might 
 like to play Joan d'Arc for the interest of the char- 
 acter for a while. She would as lief run the blockade 
 for the fun of the risk or the dausrer as not. I 
 shouldn't be surprised to hear that she had tried it ! " 
 and Victor laughed. " I tell you what, Mark, I 
 have learned one lesson in this miserable w^ar, and 
 that is the value of a true, single-hearted woman — 
 such as Panola, for instance — who can sacrifice all 
 her own desires and even comforts for the sake of 
 tliose she loves. I have lost all fancy for useless 
 queens of society." 
 
 Mark smiled. "You don't know yourself, Vic- 
 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 183 
 
 tow "Wait until you get back into the old grooves 
 of life, and you will see then that habit is deep as 
 life and strong as death. You will gradually go 
 back to your old likings/' 
 
 "Xo, I aiu sure not/' replied Victor, energeti- 
 cally. 
 
 Victor went over to see the Flanoys that very 
 evening. He went again the next day, and the 
 next, and so he got to passing the greater portion 
 of his davs there. Panola struck him as beino- 
 more beautiful than ever. Chicora had not changed 
 at all. She welcomed him as kindly as formerly. 
 Victor had known the rough life of a soldier. He 
 appreciated the delightful atmosphere of home which 
 surrounded these charming women, and which was 
 lackino- at his grandfather's. His attentions to 
 Panola became more and more lover-like. Chicora 
 was pleased to see this. Panola's future often was a 
 heavy care to the afflicted mother. There was no 
 one to look after Panola but the chief Satana, or 
 Madame Boiling, in case of the mother's death. 
 She believed Panola would not be happy living in 
 the Nation, and towards Madame Boiling she cher- 
 ished an instinctive hatred. She looked upon Vic- 
 tor's wooing, therefore, most favorably, and w^as re- 
 solved to use her influence to its utmost maternal 
 limits in his fav^or. 
 
 But Panola p:rew shver and colder as Victor crrew 
 warmer in his manner. When her mother would 
 
184 PANOLA. 
 
 speak of him she was silent. She had been brought 
 up ill the habit of iinph'cit obedience, and she knew 
 it would be a hard trial for her to resist her afflicted 
 but imperious mother's will, especially as she had 
 no good reason for rejecting Victor. She liked him 
 personally better than any one she knew, except — 
 perhaps, JNIark. Mark was out of the question. 
 Not only was it imjiossible for him to think of love 
 or marriage, but, even if it were possible, he had 
 shown no feeling to justify Panola in thinking 
 about him except as a dear brother. 
 
 Panola was a proud, shy, slowly-maturing, half 
 Indian maiden. The chastity and continence of 
 her blood through long lines of famous warriors had 
 kept cool and as yet unwarmed by passion. She 
 did not love any one so far as she knew, but neither 
 did she desire to love. She did not wish to marry 
 at all. She was happiest ministering to her mother, 
 and to old Docteur Canonge, and to Mark, and in 
 j^laying on her Straduarius. If she could have fled 
 away into the vast depths of the forest, she would 
 have done it to escape the importunities of Victor, 
 and the imploring looks and entreaties of her 
 mother on this, disagreeable subject. Several times 
 she thought she would appeal to Docteur Canonge 
 or to ]\Iark, to deliver her from what she felt to be 
 a persecution. Once she got almost to the house, 
 and to ]\lark's study, for this very purpose, when 
 some strange impulse seemed to stay her feet, and 
 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 185 
 
 she turned away and fled swiftly homeward, with 
 crimson cheeks, like a frightened doe to its covert. 
 Mark was so entirely convinced of Victor's devotion 
 to Xatika that he suspected nothing. Matters had 
 gone on thus for the whole period of Victor's fur- 
 lough. He was to leave on the following day, when 
 he burst into Mark's study one hour before twilight, 
 exclaim ino; : 
 
 " Congratulate me, Mark ! for lama bridegroom ! 
 I shall marry Panola to-morrow morning, just be- 
 fore I leave for the army. She has yielded at last.'' 
 
 Mark's book fell from his hands: the blow 
 astounded him ; he could not speak ; the blood 
 ebbed from his lips ; he felt as if he was suffocating. 
 
 Victor was so much excited, and so gay over his 
 triumph, that he did not ol)serve the effect of his 
 announcement upon his cousin. Mark rallied him- 
 self, stooped over to pick up liis book, saying, in 
 rather a smothered tone, 
 
 ^' You are certainly to be congratulated if this is 
 true. When did it occur? How can you give up 
 Katika?" 
 
 Victor's face fell. 
 
 "Natika has given me up," he said, sharply. '^\s 
 for Panola, I have been intending to marry her, 
 if I could, ever since I was here while you went 
 to the Arkansas springs, and hard enough it has 
 been to get her." 
 
 " I fear it was the difficultv that has been the 
 
186 PANOLA. 
 
 attractlo.n," said ^Mark, sadly. ''Do you really love 
 Panola?" 
 
 " Yes ; I 111 ink I do/' said Victor, determinately 
 settino; his teeth toijether. 
 
 "Does Panola love you?" continued Mark, 
 firmly. 
 
 " If she don't now, she ^/-zY/," replied Victor, 
 almost angrily. ]\Iark's questioning and doubts 
 annoyed him. He was not so sure on any of the 
 points as he would have liked to be. "She is not 
 like most girls, Panola is not. She is naturally cold 
 and unimpressionable ; but she is very beautiful 
 and good ! " 
 
 " Oh, Victor ! " said ]\Iark, passionately, " don't 
 force this poor girl to marry unless you are sure of 
 yourself and of her. I fear you and her mother are 
 acting cruelly to Panola. I know Mrs. Flanoy's 
 imperious will. Panola is not cold ; I have studied 
 her nature, and I know it." 
 
 Victor was startled for the moment by the intense 
 passion in Mark's voice. A suspicion flashed 
 through his soul. 
 
 " You can't marry, Mark ! I could not suspect you 
 of the dog-in-the-manger desire to keep this girl 
 single when you can offer her nothing but cold 
 friendship ! " 
 
 "God 'forbid !" said Mark, humbly. "I only 
 desire Panola's happiness. I have never hoped for 
 anything myself. But don't fetter her if she does not 
 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 187 
 
 really love you : think a little of her wretchedness 
 if she finds herself bound to a man who does not 
 love her — whom she does not love." 
 
 " I am no Caliban or Bhiebeard, Mark/' said 
 Victor, trying to smile, "and it is no use talking 
 now, I shall marry Panola to-morrow. I have 
 spoken to the magistrate to meet me at ten o'clock ; 
 and immediately after the ceremony, which is only 
 to be performed in order to satisfy Mrs. Flanoy, I 
 go off to the army. I shall try for another furlough, 
 when I will return to the bosom of my family," said 
 he, with some return of his old levity of speech. 
 He added more seriously, ''Don't fear, Mark; I will 
 not be unkind to my wife ! " 
 
 ]\Iark sat with his face buried in his hands. He 
 made no reply. Victor, vexed at his obstinate 
 silence, left the room singing " Dites lui," from 
 Offenbach's Grande Duchesse. He went to carry 
 his great piece of news to his grandfather, who 
 entered into his hopes with full sympathy and 
 great excitement, which consoled A^ictor for Mark's 
 coldness. 
 
 That was a night of agony for Mark, and his face 
 bore the traces of it when he appeared at the break- 
 fast table the next morning. He looked so pale and 
 so ill that Docteur Canonge was seriously anxious ; 
 and Victor did not require any further explanation 
 as to the impossibility of ]\Iark's going with the 
 party to witness the brief ceremony to take lA-dca at 
 
188 PANOLA. 
 
 Mrs. Flanoy's. Victor dressed himself carefully in 
 his gray uniform. He knew he would have but 
 little time for change after the marriage. He was 
 compelled to hasten in order to get to his command 
 as soon as possible, as his furlough had expired. 
 
 Panola scarcely knew how she became engaged to 
 Victor, or how it was that all the arrangements 
 were made for her marriage. She had been im- 
 pelled imperceptibly, step by step, by the force of 
 her mother's will and Victor's importunities. She 
 did not comprehend it, but she felt utterly helpless. 
 If they would only let her alone ; but that they 
 would not do. 
 
 It was with a listless and IndifTcrent hand that 
 she clasped around her the fine white gown her 
 mother had ordered her to wear as a weddino;-aown. 
 It was a pretty gown of fine India muslin, and 
 Panola recollected that Mark had admired it 
 greatly when she had worn it in his presence. 
 She paused in the midst of her toilette to lean her 
 head upon her hands and to sigh deeply. She did 
 not weep — Panola was part Indian. She could 
 have been burnt by a slow fire and still kept an 
 imperturbable countenance. But there was on her 
 face an expression of stolid endurance and stoical 
 apathy which, however natural to it, had never been 
 there before to-day. 
 
 The moments passed swiftly. Panola heard the 
 driving up of the carriages which brought Docteur 
 
MARRIED IN HASTE. 189 
 
 Canonge and the magistrate, and she heard the gal- 
 loping of Victor's horse's feet as he dashed im- 
 patiently to the door. She looked out. Docteur 
 Canonge and the magistrate had just got out of 
 the carriages, which were being driven off to one 
 side. ]\Iark was not with them ; Panola thanked 
 God he had not come. She had dreaded his coming to 
 witness this dreadful marriage. Something had pre- 
 vented his coming. Panola was glad. A low knock 
 at her door was answered by Panola's opening it. 
 Madame Boiling entered, smiling tenderly as she 
 held out a crown of lovely orange blossoms, fresh 
 from her garden. She embraced her niece with 
 effusion. 
 
 ^'Dear child," she said, "it is better I should not 
 be present at the ceremony. It would be painful to 
 me, and also to your mother. So I have brought 
 my small offering here. Wear my crown, Panola, in 
 this hour of your happiness. I had once fondly 
 hoped for different issues; but it is all ended. I 
 have also given to Joe's wife a handsome bride's 
 cake, which you will eat for my sake." 
 
 Madame Boiling kissed Panola affectionately, 
 arranged the crown upon her head, and then glided 
 noiselessly out of the room, and out of the house. 
 
 Panola was summoned ; she obeved ; and some- 
 how, she hardly knew how, she was in the salon 
 before the magistrate ; and after a few words which 
 she scarcely heard — certainly did not comprehend — 
 
190 PANOLA. 
 
 she found herself in Victor's arms and he saluted 
 her as *^ his wife.'' Then Docteur Canonge kissed 
 her and blessed her, and cried over her, he was 
 so pleased ; and her mother smiled upon her with 
 beautiful pleased eyes ; and the handsome cake was 
 cut and wine was drunk ; then Victor embraced her 
 again. He had drawn Panola to the door, talking 
 to her with his arm about her waist ; and there, 
 with much tenderness, he had kissed her lips and 
 her cheeks and then he was gone. Panola stood 
 looking after him as he rode swiftly away. At the 
 gate he paused and, turning, he waved his hand, and 
 slowly lifting his hat, he sat bareheaded for an 
 instant ; then he disappeared from her view, riding 
 rapidly away. 
 
 It was like a fearful dream ! Panola felt so tired 
 and so drowsy, somehow so stupefied. Instinctively 
 she put up her hands, and took oflp the heavy 
 wreath of orange flowers, with their overpowering 
 scent. *' I do dislike orange flowers,'^ she thought, 
 and that was really the only connected, conscious 
 thought Panola had experienced that morning. 
 
 Victor, as he rode away, thought that he had 
 never experienced a more painful chill than he had 
 felt when he touched Panola's lips and cheeks, 
 they were so icy cold. There were no bridal blushes 
 there ; but she was white as the cotton after which 
 she was named. " She was like a woman made of 
 marble," he thought ; " I don't much like playing 
 the part of a modern Pygmalion.'' 
 
PASSING AWAY. 191 
 
 ""What a stroncr smell of musk there is!" said 
 Mrs. Fianoy to Panola. " It seems to be in your 
 hair. It is very stupefying ! " 
 
 "It must have come from the strong perfume of 
 my orange-flower crown," said Panola. "They are 
 so powerful, indoors, you know. I do not like them 
 iu masses." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PASSING AWAY. 
 
 TIIIXGS settled down into their accustomed 
 quiet in tliis little nook, while great events 
 were occurring all around, and the fate of nations 
 was being decided. Mrs. Fianoy was growing 
 weaker and weaker, but the flame of life burned 
 more fiercely and high, the nearer it came to its 
 extinction. It seemed to condense itself more and 
 more into her eyes, which were at once fearful and 
 most beautiful to look into. There is a picture at 
 Pompeii which is brought to mind by the remem- 
 brance of Chicora's face. It is a mosaic, which has 
 retained all its brilliancy of coloring and freshness 
 of hue for over a thousand years. It represents a 
 head severed from the body, but without any pain- 
 ful accompaniments. The head is placed upright 
 upon a square slab of marble. From beneath this 
 
192 PA.XOLA. 
 
 marble there is slowly flowing a stream of crimson 
 blood, in which a black vulture, seated near by, is 
 dipping his savage beak. There is no contortion 
 of muscle in the living decapitated head. The 
 beautiful features are quiet and fixed ; the eyes are 
 wdde open, and look straight forward, defying fate 
 and death, and time, and Nemesis. Dark and 
 bright they gaze in utter contempt of the vulture 
 feeding to satiety on the life-blood. They do not 
 even see the vulture. They look steadfastly on 
 into a higher and eternal life, seeking to meet its 
 equals among the gods. So Chicora looked. 
 
 After a time, Panola had quietly resumed her usual 
 ministrations to the three families so dependent 
 upon her. When she drew near to the well-known 
 study in which Mark was sitting as usual, she felt a 
 sudden faintness come over her. She sat down on a 
 bench on the verandah, outside of the door, and 
 gasped for breath ; but it was soon over — that 
 passing spasm. She rose, and, turning the knob of 
 the door quietly, she entered the room. Mark 
 looked up and the color rushed over his face. 
 " Panola," he ejaculated. 
 
 " Yes, ]\Iark,'^ said Panola, with a plaintive sad- 
 ness in her voice, which was quite firm ; and she 
 gave him her hand as usual. IMark's fingers closed 
 over it involuntarily ; then he recollected himself 
 and let it drop. It had rested in his very tranquilly, 
 as cold as a small snowflake. Panola began to busy 
 herself about the house, just as usual. 
 
PASSING AWAY. 10 
 
 o 
 
 Mark coukl scarcely fix his eyes or his mnul upon 
 the book he liekl between his trembling fingers. He 
 found himself straining his ears to catch the sound 
 of her light footsteps as she moved about the cottage 
 "putting things to rights/' as women say. Then. 
 she brought in a lot of clothing that needed mending. 
 
 " I'll take these home and do them, Mark/' she 
 said. " I can't leave mamma very long.'' 
 
 Panola was very quiet and grave in her manner. 
 Mark saw a great change had come over the young 
 girl: somehow the splendor of the sheen of her beauty 
 had departed ; there was no color at all in her 
 cheeks. Her face w^as all satiny white except her 
 lips; they seemed to be burning with fever-red. 
 The glory, too, had faded, somehow, out of her hair. 
 She looked, again, like the pale white child that 
 ]\Iark remembered so well, and that Victor had 
 laughed at so much. The life seemed gradually 
 dying out of her as the splendid hues of a wounded 
 butterfly do in its prolonged death-agony. But the 
 faculty of endurance, proud and high, was stamped 
 upon her every feature. She would die and make 
 no sign, as so many of her race had done before her 
 in the earlier ages — as her mother was perishing 
 now, day by day, before her eyes. She had no vain 
 cries or lamentations to make against any fate. She 
 "was not of the softer mould of the pure white race 
 or of the childish African. She knew how to suffer 
 and to be still. 
 • 12 
 
194 PANOLA. 
 
 Mark looked after her as she disappeared through 
 the door with the basket of clothes in her hand, and 
 a deep, prolonged sigh told what he was feeling ; 
 but he picked up his book, and again set himself 
 resolutely to his study. He repeated to himself 
 in a low voice a sonnet of Anne C. Lynch, one 
 of her finest : 
 
 " Go forth in life, oli friend ! not seeking love ; 
 A mendicant, that with imploring eye 
 And outstretched hand asks of the passers-by 
 The alms his strong necessities may move. 
 For such poor love, to pity near allied, 
 Thy generous spirit may not stoop and wait,' 
 A suppliant whose prayer may be denied 
 Like a spurned beggar's at a palace gate : 
 But thy heart's affluence lavish uncontrolled : 
 The largess of thy love give full and free 
 As monarchs in their progress scatter gold ; 
 And be thy heart like the exhaustless sea 
 That must its wealth of cloud and dew bestow, 
 Through tributary streams or ebb or flow." 
 
 There is much value in the acquired power which 
 all true culture gives of self-control, at least of ex- 
 ternal self-control. It is a duty that every one owes 
 to humanity to keep out of sight of others mental or 
 physical pain. The intuitive chord of sympathy 
 which binds man to man should be respected and 
 never made to jar or quiver unnecessarily. One has 
 oio right to exploiter one's selfish griefs or discom- 
 forts. A decent respect for others should forbid 
 this. It is not hypocrisy, but a rightful considera- 
 
chicora's death. 195 
 
 tlon for others which makes the dwellers in the 
 Hall of Eblis in Vathek cover with their rio^ht 
 hands the dark hole in their breasts in which their 
 hearts are ever burning. People are so much affected 
 by their surroundings, what right has one to shadow 
 over the horizon of others ? The truly magnanimous 
 soul, who loves his fellows, may seek sympathy in 
 joy, but must keep sorrow to itself. Panola nor 
 Mark either asked for sympathy from any one. 
 What was to be endured they bore in silence and 
 with outward calm. They had no pity for weak- 
 ness in themselves, but great charity for others, and 
 — they were hopeless — they had never had any hope. 
 It is human to submit with patience to the inevi- 
 table. One gathers up the fragments into the 
 baskets, grateful for even the crumbs that are left 
 from the feasts of others' lives. 
 
 « ♦ > • » 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 chicora's death. 
 
 TIME passed. The Confederacy was ended ; 
 Lee had surrendered ; the army was paroled, 
 and yet Victor had not returned to his family — to 
 his bride of an hour. His letters had been frequent 
 
196 PANOLA. 
 
 and all that was tender for months. Suddenly they 
 ceased to arrive. Chicora fretted over this sudden 
 silence more than Panola. Docteur Canoncje was 
 open in his wonder and his denunciation of the cruel 
 circumstances which were keeping Victor away so 
 lonor. JMark feared in silence. Panola said nothing^, 
 "lie will come when he is ready," she would say to 
 her impatient mother. 
 
 A friend on business called to see Mark. He had 
 just come from New Orleans. He mentioned seeing 
 Victor, and also Xatika, who was summoned there 
 by her agents about her affairs. jNIark turned pale. 
 "Natika in America! Natika in Xew Orleans!" 
 Alas ! for Victor ! What humiliation lay in store 
 for Panola ! Mark trembled. 
 
 The visitor had scarcely quitted Mark before the 
 door of liis room opened and Panola stood before 
 him. Her face was flushed and her eyes were dilated, 
 whether with grief or joy it was impossible to say. 
 She held a letter in her outstretched hand to Mark. 
 
 '' Mark ! " she said, breathlessly, " Mark ! I have 
 come to you ! See ! — read ! Victor has deserted 
 me ! Oh ! IMark ! " 
 
 The tension of feeling was too great. She sunk 
 in a dead faint at Mark's feet. He cried aloud for 
 aid. He dragged himself from his chair and lifted 
 her head from the floor. Lizbette came runniuo^ in ; 
 she brought water and soon restored Panola to con- 
 sciousness. Panola pushed the hair back which had 
 
ciiicora's death. 107 
 
 fallen from the confining ribbons, rubbed her eyes 
 and looked around in a confused state of mind. But 
 her eyes grew intelligent as she saw Mark sitting by 
 her on the floor, and the letter lying where it had 
 dropped from her hand as she fell. Lizbette had 
 trodden it under foot. Pauola stretched out her 
 hand to reach it. 
 
 " I remember now," she said. " It is Victor^s 
 letter ! Read it ! He is gone to Xatika ! He 
 "will never come back again ! He is gone forever ! 
 Eead it ! " 
 
 Mark snatched the letter from her, read it, and 
 every vein on his forehead swelled with indignation 
 as he did read it. Victor wrote desperately. He 
 threw himself upon Panola's generosity for forgive- 
 ness of all the wrong and humiliation he was doing 
 her. He said that he could make no reparation 
 but to leave her. He had again met the only woman 
 he had ever really loved, and he was now separated 
 from her as well as from Panola by his own mad act; 
 his future must be miserable, he said, but he would 
 spend it alone, far from both. At last he had found 
 that Xatika loved him ; he did not think Panola 
 would suffer as much as she had, or as he did ; if 
 she could find any redress at the law, he thought she 
 had better seek it. Then he begged her to forgive 
 him, and to pity his utter misery in being compelled 
 to write such words to her; he would never Icok on 
 her face again. 
 
198 PANOLA. 
 
 iMark angrily flung the letter from hira. 
 
 " Dastardly villain ! ^' lie said, " with no purpose 
 nor strength — unstable as water; a curse to himself 
 and to all connected with hini/^ 
 
 Panola laid her hand liglitly on Mark's arm. 
 
 " ]\Iark," she said, " don't blame poor A'ictor so 
 much. It is better so ! better so ! I did not love 
 Victor as I should have done ! The thing now is 
 to irive him freedom and to tell mamma. Oh! 
 !Mark, how shall I tell this to mamma? she is so 
 devoted to Victor/' and Panola began to weep for 
 the first time in all her troubles; the tears streamed 
 forth A'eely; she leaned her head on the arm of 
 ]\Iark's chair and sobbed aloud. 
 
 I\Iark moved his hand as if to lay it soothingly 
 upon the bowed, light head, but checked himself 
 and leaned back with a fixed look in his face. He 
 clasped his hands tightly together so they should 
 not be tempted to stray lovingly over her head, and 
 he sat trembling like a leaf. Panola wept on — oh! 
 the blessed relief of those tears. 
 
 "AVho was to tell Docteur Canonge?'' Mark 
 thoufrht, and shrank from the task. 
 
 The dear, fond old man ! Every feeling would 
 be outraged by Victor's base conduct. His keen 
 sense of honor, his pride, his affection, all Avounded 
 to the very quick. Mark groaned aloud. 
 
 He a2;reed with Panola that great caution would 
 be requisite in breaking this news to Mrs. Flanoy. 
 
chicora's death. 199 
 
 He was willing to undertake the painful duty as 
 soon as he had explained all to his grandi'ather. 
 So Panola rose up, dried her eyes and went home, 
 in order to send Cherokee Joe with some vehicle 
 in which Mark might be conveyed to Mrs. Flanoy's. 
 Mark was in the habit of ridino; out in a carriaG:e 
 when they had been able to keep up an equipage. 
 Poor Confederates now had neither horses nor 
 carriages. 
 
 Mark had a sorrowful scene with his grandfather. 
 The old man tore his hair when he had read Vic- 
 tor's letter; he raved; hew^ept; his affliction was 
 dreadful to see. His pity for Panola was infinite, 
 and yet he said " it was better she should be freed 
 from such a base, dishonorable man as Victor.'' 
 Mark soothed the fiery, high-spirited old man as 
 well as he could, and at last got off so as to go to 
 INIrs. Flanoy's iu the chair which Cherokee Joe had 
 by this time brought to the door. 
 
 Mark felt himself quail for a few moments be- 
 fore his painful task. He rolled himself along the 
 level galleries, and into the room where Chicora was 
 lying, unsuspicious of the heart-rending information 
 he was conveying to her. Chicora greeted Mark 
 very affectionately. Molly, the wife of Joe, was 
 sitting by Chicora. 
 
 *' I am really glad you happened to come to see 
 me, !Mark," said Chicora. " I was thinking of 
 sending after Docteur Canonge. My heart seems 
 
200 PANOLA. 
 
 to be very queer to-day. It beats so irregularly, 
 and sometimes seems to pause for a whole second in 
 its pulsation. I fear the stiffness is spreading 
 internally. Have you heard anything yet from 
 Victor ? I do wish he was here I \)hy don't he 
 come ? " 
 
 JMark drew a long breath and nerved himself, 
 then as gently and tenderly as he could he told the 
 sad tale of his cousin's unpardonable abandonment 
 of Panola to the amazed and even incredulous 
 woman. As his fidl meaning burst upon her mind, 
 a cry escaped her lips ; a shrill, fierce cry, like the 
 scream of an angry eagle. It harrowed Mark's very 
 soul. After that one cry Chicora lay sileut for a 
 moment, then, turning her eyes towards the Indian 
 Molly, she uttered a few words in the Cherokee 
 tongue. Molly threw up her hands over her head 
 in a passionate, savage gesture, and quitted the 
 room. 
 
 In a few moments the door opened noiselessly 
 and Cherokee Joe stood motionless before Chicora's 
 couch. She looked at him, her eyes pouring out 
 red, fiery light ; her voice was low and monotonous 
 as she spoke in her native tongue. She hissed the 
 sentences out slowly and emphatically. Joe started 
 at Chicora's first words, and cast an angry look at 
 Mark, then his face grew stolid and fixed as he 
 listened to Chicora. His wife had stolen back, and 
 at Chicora's last words she held out to Joe one of 
 
cm Cora's death. 201 
 
 the diamond snakes, the totem which Panola usually 
 wore. Joe lifted the snake high above his head 
 and said some words in the Cherokee, wdiich his 
 wife solemnly repeated after him. Mark only dis- 
 tino-uished the words ^' Satana '' and " Panola.'^ He 
 saw from the pantomime an oath was being registered 
 on the totem. Joe thrust the snake into his bosom 
 and glided out of the room. Chicora smiled, a 
 fearful smile of anticipated vengeance, as she looked 
 after Joe's retreatins: fijiure, then she closed her e3'es 
 with a long, shuddering sigh. A faint, weary look 
 came over her face. " Mark," she whispered, " my 
 heart flutters." 
 
 Mark put his fingers upon her temple to count 
 the th robbings. His face turned white : the pulsa- 
 tion was nearly gone. 
 
 " I must have grandfather here," he said quickly 
 to Molly. ^' Send for him instantly." 
 
 Chicora smiled; she "revived; she said, "It is 
 all over; my hour is come; call Panola; you will 
 be good to my child, Mark, if possible; you will 
 do whatever you can ; you are good and true — 
 send for Panola." 
 
 She came running swiftly. She hastened to her 
 mother ; bent over her in anguish : " Mamma ! my 
 mother ! my darling ! " 
 
 Chicora fixed her eyes on her child : " jNIy child," 
 she said, gently, " my poor, lonely daughter ! the 
 Great Spirit calls for me ; even now the angel of 
 
202 PANOLA. 
 
 death pauses upon ray threshold. He is welcome ! 
 Let the messenger of tlie All-father enter in peace ! 
 Chicora is very weary ; her heart has been bleeding 
 lono;, and she lono^s for rest. You will be strons; 
 to bear all that comes to you; you will not weep for 
 Victor. A Cherokee does not weep. Joe will go 
 to Satana. The chief will look after you. The 
 white man is not good to be trusted ; and now, my 
 child, good-bye ; Chicora goes to the Great Father." 
 Panola kissed her mother in silent anguish. 
 
 Chicora had closed her eyes calmly after speaking 
 to her daughter. She wdiispered now : " Let me 
 pass in peace ; there should be no tears nor outcry 
 at the deathbed of Chicora ; she is the daughter of 
 chiefs. I forbid you to weep.'^ 
 
 Panola uttered a great sob, then with an immense 
 effort of will she controlled her natural grief, and 
 kneeling down by her mother laid her arm over 
 her, fixed her eyes steadily upon her face and was 
 quiet and moveless as stone. Chicora lay calm and 
 smiling. Her breathing grew slov\'er and slower; 
 sliglit convulsions passed over her face. The great 
 struggles of her heart could be counted in the 
 intense silence. From time to time Chicora would 
 open her eyes and look steadily into the eyes of her 
 child. There seemed to be an interchange of nerve- 
 aura between the two : at that supreme moment 
 they were conscious of the oneness of their spirits. 
 Mark sat perfectly immovable^ looking in awe at 
 
cuicora's death. 20 
 
 o 
 
 the two women whose souls were so strong in the 
 bitterest sorrows of humanity. 
 
 Suddenly Chicora spoke a few words to !Molly in 
 the native tongue. The woman rose to her feet, 
 and standing erect at the foot of Chicora's couch, she 
 began to sing a low, solemn chant, the death-song 
 of Chicora. The woman's voice was very sweet and 
 clear, and Mark could follow the changes of mean-W 
 ing from the cadences, now plaintive and soft, now 
 triumphant and joyous, as she chanted the youth, 
 the beauty, the happiness of Chicora, and then the 
 sorrows of her checquered life. 
 
 Chicora's expressive countenance changed accord- 
 ing to the words of the song. Molly's voice sunk 
 to a soft wail as she uttered the prayers for peace 
 and rest that the dying woman craved. A beautiful 
 serenity spread over her features, and as the song 
 died awav consciousness faded out of her eves. Chi- 
 cora never spoke again. Docteur Canonge came, 
 but could do nothing for her. That night she 
 died. 
 
 "It is the strangest malady I ever saw," said 
 Docteur Canonge; "I have seen nothing like it in 
 all my practice." 
 
204 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE. 
 
 MARK wrote briefly and sternly to Victor, tell- 
 ing him of the resolution of Panola to seek 
 fwa divorce from the bonds which fettered both ; and 
 of the death of Chicora. He received several wildly 
 agitated, almost incoherent letters in response, from 
 which he gathered an idea of the condition of mind 
 in which his half-frantic cousin now was living. 
 
 Xatika had heard in Paris of Victor's marriage. 
 Her first feeling was that of indignant rage at the 
 unexpected escape of the slave, who had given to 
 her his life-long homage. Her second impulse was 
 that she would break up all these impertinent ar- 
 rangements, and therefore she sailed for America. 
 Besides, she was not well ; she had had a very ex- 
 hausting season ; she had been very gay and had lat- 
 terly felt as if the pursuit of vapid amusements was a 
 great labor. She was thoroughly out of health, and 
 also out of temper. Her physicians prescribed rest 
 and a sea-vovage ; so she came home. 
 
 On arrivinir in Xew Orleans, she ascertained 
 Victor's whereabouts, and she wrote a few hasty 
 lines to him, making no allusion whatever to his 
 marriacre, as if she had never heard of it. Victor 
 hesitated about meeting her. He took up his pen 
 
THE PIIILOSOrilY OF LOVE. 205 
 
 to write her to tell her of his marriage ; but then a 
 great desire came over him to see her for himself, 
 and to tell her of it himself. And this feeling was 
 not unmixed with a sensation of bitter curiosity to 
 see how Natika would receive the news of his eman- 
 cipation from her power. In an evil moment Vic- 
 tor yielded to this impulse, and instead of writing to 
 Natika, went to her. He found her looking badly, 
 pale and thin. She met him with unusual tender- 
 ness, and he felt his soul faint within him as he re- 
 ceived her affectionate greeting, and thought of what 
 he had to communicate to her. But it had to be 
 
 done. 
 
 Victor stammered out his tale like a culprit. Ka- 
 tika heard it with open scorn and anger— Victor 
 hoped even with some jealousy. She snatched 
 her hand from his after he had made his confes- 
 sion, and with a few bitter, scathing words, she 
 dragged her skirts away from contact with him as 
 he was sitting beside her. Then she burst into 
 tears and quitted the room in a whirlwind of passion 
 and temper. For the first time in his life Victor 
 thouo-ht that Katika loved him, and though the first 
 sensaUon of this made his heart leap as it never had 
 before, yet the next moment, when he recollected the 
 barriers he had placed between Katika and himself, 
 the very blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He 
 became icy cold. An immense wave of hatred to- 
 wards Panola, and himself to, surged through him. 
 
206 PANOLA. 
 
 He stao^crered out of the room and ejot somehow 
 into his own apartment. He threw himself down 
 in a chair with a groan of utter desperation. He 
 felt half dead and utterly bewildered. He sat so for 
 hours, then, with the strength of despair, he wrote 
 his wild letter to Panola, and one equally wild to 
 Natika; and resolved to put an end to it all, and to 
 • himself too. But Xatika knew him. He had 
 scarcely closed and sealed his last letter to her, and 
 he had the pistol in his hand to make a finish of all 
 things, when Xatika rapped violently at his door. 
 Receiving no response, she forced it open ; the key 
 had not caught firmly when he had attempted to 
 lock it with his agitated hand. Xatika sprang ia 
 and seized the pistol from Victor. 
 
 " I knew it! '^ she exclaimed. ^' Oh, Victor, what 
 a craven you are! Too weak to live, and yet you 
 would condemn me to eternal misery and infinite 
 remorse by your own folly and madness.^' 
 
 He did not reply. He looked gloomily at 
 Xatika. 
 
 "What else is left?'' he asked. 
 
 She saw that he was desperate. She came to 
 him. She put her arms around his neck. She laid 
 her head upon his bosom. Victor embraced her 
 j)assionately. 
 
 "A^ctor," she said, "you have placed barriers 
 between us that I can not pass. But one thing I 
 can do, and that I will do. I can not give myself 
 
THE PniLOSOPHT OF LOVE. 207 
 
 to yon, but I can live for yon, and keep myself free 
 from any other ties for your sake ; that I will do." 
 
 Victor threw himself at her feet and buried his 
 head in the hem of her garment; and he wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Natika/' he sobbed, " Xatika, show me how to 
 give my life to you. You know it has always been 
 yours." 
 
 So Natika triumphed, but she continued to play the 
 role of an almost broken-hearted woman, her pale- 
 ness and emaciation aiding in keeping up the char- 
 acter satisfactorily. 
 
 Xatika was half deceived herself; she was such a 
 good actress, for the moment she entered so entirely 
 into any impersonation, that she was, pour le mo- 
 ment, that creature of the imagination, whether it 
 was Hermione or Camille, or, as now, a sentimental, 
 much-injured, sensitive woman. And Victor be- 
 lieved in her, and he was so flattered by this 
 late acknowledged love of Natika's. And he Jcnew 
 Panola did not love him! He cursed his fate and 
 his own obstinacy thousands of times; and he 
 eagerly sought the consolation of Natika's tender- 
 ness. HLeJelt somehow as if a bond, perhaps of 
 lonely guiltiness, united them the closer. In all 
 mankind he and !N^atika were alone, even in the 
 general condemnation and social reproach that he 
 knew would follow both. Thousrh Natika had too 
 much self-respect and too much wisdom to give 
 
208 PANOLA. 
 
 herself wholly to him, yet there v:as a delirious sort 
 of rapture for Victor in merely beholding her and 
 knowing that she never would belong to another. 
 
 Very few men or women are really capable of 
 the highest sentiment of love. The majority of both 
 sexes are impelled toward each other by mere in- 
 stincts, which, of course, are valuable as any other 
 instincts, and quite as necessary as any other im- 
 pulses to make a perfect man or woman. Human 
 nature is defective without all the passions, but the 
 ordinary impulses must be controlled by education 
 and culture and right reason in order to make a fine 
 human being. 
 
 The electric forces which draw man and woman 
 to each other, the general and ordinary magnetism, 
 which may be only j^hy sic al, or perhaps more justly 
 be called chemical, the affinity which unites atom to 
 atom in all physical nature, which is often experi- 
 enced in life among human beings, in a stronger or 
 weaker degree, is not the truest and highest senti- 
 ment which the human soul is capable of feeling. 
 And the reason why there are so many wretched mar- 
 riages is because men and women mistake this com- 
 mon and universal magnetism, for 7^eal lorejerence, 
 for true sympathy, for holiest love; and it fails 
 them, as all mere physical impulses do ; as hunger 
 does when it is satisfied. Most people love ^'love,^^ 
 not the individual lover. They like soft tones and 
 tender words and warmth of embraces. But of the 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE. 209 
 
 absolute oneness of soul and sympathy, the inexhaust- 
 ible fountain of true fellowship, and eternal pro- 
 gression together in love and excellence towards the 
 highest — that few do know, or few pause to think 
 about. Yet this is the only satisfying love ; and it 
 is possible ! AVhen a soul is so happy as to attain to 
 this love, life is enriched and glorified beyond ordi- 
 nary conception. Even if the love should never be 
 what is called fortunate — that is, if the two, loving 
 in this holy manner, should never belong to one 
 another — there remains the exquisite bliss of having 
 been once fully comprehended ; of being perfectly 
 appreciated and understood. And the parted ones 
 are better and nobler and happier. Their souls can 
 never be utterly lonely. If deprived of the ordinary 
 joys of life, they have the highest and purest still 
 left — a conscious sympathy in progressing towards 
 the goal of the highest possible for humanity. 
 
 There is nothing so fearful to man as utter lone- 
 liness and isolation from all sympathy. It is a sor- 
 rowful fate to be alone ; and those men and women 
 who wreck their natures under the leading of lower 
 impulses, miss the deepest joy of life. 
 
 Mark, even in his wretched est hours, felt this. 
 His love for Panola was a distinguishing preference. 
 Out of all the earth she was the one elected woman 
 for him. She, too, was capable of such a love. 
 Katika was not ; and he pitied Victor and Natika 
 13 
 
210 PANOLA. 
 
 more than he did himself or Panola, as these 
 thouiihts rushed often thronojh his mind. 
 
 Docteur Canonge was so much grieved by the 
 conduct of A'ictor and Xatika, that he never spoke 
 of them but once to ]\Iark after he heard of their 
 hasty marriage. Then he said, quietly : 
 
 " It is exceeding great misfortune for boz of zem, 
 and for zeir offspring. Zey have neider of zem good 
 constitution. Victor have de mos' feeble of zie two. 
 I can foresee no good result from zis marriage. I 
 sink, wiz Plato, zat a government — zat is, society — 
 has zie right to forbid such marriages as will entail 
 upon humanity weak and imperfect generation of 
 men and women. In zat I disagree wiz George 
 Sand, and George Eliot, too. George Sand teaches 
 in her novels, wiz her powerful pen, zat zie height 
 of human love is zie imitation of zie Divine love of 
 Christ, and zerefore zie highest love is zat of entire 
 self-abnegation or charitee, in which zie woman sail 
 love her inferior, from whom she can expect nozing, 
 and who will probably repay her devotion wiz in- 
 gratitude. So she teaches in ^ Lucrezia Floriani,' 
 and ordinarily also in all zat she writes. Her heroes 
 are usually poor sticks. And also George Eliot, 
 she make her women always zie nobler of zie two, 
 like Maggie in ^ Zie Mill on zie Floss,' and ^ Ro- 
 mola,' and also in her ozer books. Zat is not good 
 instruction for young people. Zie trutt is, zat what- 
 ever we cherish as our ideal will generally form our 
 
THE rillLOSOPHY OF LOVE. 211 
 
 character. "What we love, we will grow like. Zat 
 is a rule in physics, and also metaphysics. All zle 
 young peoples should be taught zie lessons of psy- 
 chology and of physiology ; and zey should learn to 
 govern zeir impulses wiz right reason. Zey should 
 be instructed zat zey owe someting to humanity, and 
 zat zey must often make great sacrifice for zie good 
 of zie race. Zere can be no compensation to hu- 
 manity for an imperfect child, and zerefore marriage 
 zould be in some degree a matter of legislation of 
 zie State. Plato is riglit. Zie charitee or love of 
 Christ, which zie modern writers do hold up for 
 imitation, is good in zie dominion of external brother- 
 hood only. It is not intended to govern, except 
 generally; not zie world of inner life and reproduc- 
 tion of kind. Zie man or zie woman who love, as 
 zeir highest, imperfect and undeveloped beings, 
 lower zan zeirselves, eider physically or morally or 
 mentally, zey show a blunted moral sense. One 
 can pity an inferior, but not love zem wiz zie high- 
 est of zie soul-gifts. And it is great wrong to hu- 
 manity. Of course I do not speak of zie accidents 
 of life — rank, birth or wealth. I do not regard zem. 
 I mean zie personality of zie two. Xo one should 
 ever marry wizout fullest love and fullest health, 
 both of mind and body. And when zose qualities 
 are found, zen people should marry as a duty to so- 
 ciety, wezer zey be rich or poor. Sympathy and 
 
212 PAIiOLA. V 
 
 health, zat is essential, and this should be legislated 
 upon/^ 
 
 " What an old Platonist he is/' thought Mark. 
 "And so sweet and good, too." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MADAME BOLLIX G^S FLOWERS. 
 
 MARK was sitting in his chair. He had rolled 
 himself out of the room in which Chicora's 
 body lay. The coffin which was to receive it had 
 to come from a distance, and Mark had undertaken 
 the night watch with Indian Joe, by the body. The 
 two men sat silently hour by hour. The room in 
 which Chicora lay was brilliantly lighted, but the 
 adjoining apartment in which Mark and Joe now 
 sat was dark. The door was open between the 
 chambers, and Mark had a clear view of the couch 
 upon which the remains were lying, covered over 
 with a white sheet. Some flowers were scattered 
 upon it. Joe sat with his head bent down, his 
 hands clasped around his knees, as he crouched on 
 the floor by Mark in the attitude of Indian mourn- 
 ing. He had sat motionless as a fakir all the 
 night. 
 
MADAME BOLLIKG'S PLOTTERS. 213 
 
 It was now past midnight. Mark was meditate 
 ing on all the past, lost in his recollections, whoa 
 suddenly he felt in the darkness the pressure of Joe's 
 hand upon his, and a smothered "hist" from the 
 Indian's lips. The door entering from the verandah 
 into the next room slowly opened, a figure clothed 
 in deep black glided in, followed by the bent form 
 of old Xana. The old negress tottered in, shaking 
 her white head as if it was palsied, keeping as close 
 as she could to her mistress, for it was indeed 
 Madame BoUins:, who came in now unbidden and 
 unchecked into the presence of the dead woman 
 who had so hated her. Madame was dressed in 
 deep mourning, and had a black hood drawn over 
 her head. The hem of her skirts was wet and 
 draggled with the heavy night-dews she had walked 
 throu<rh in coraino- from the Pavilion to the house. 
 
 o o 
 
 Madame looked around, but seeing no one, she 
 came forward into the room. She stood by the corpse. 
 Mark felt Cherokee Joe's hand closing over his with 
 the clasp of an iron vice. The two men watched. 
 Madame Boiling laid the sheet back from the proud, 
 sad, silent face. It was very noble in its sculptured 
 stillness. Madame looked down upon it steadfastly. 
 Nana crept up by her side, and looked too. Ma- 
 dame gazed until she was satisfied, then taking some 
 flowers out from under her cloak, she placed them 
 on the breast of the corpse. " I bring my offering, 
 Chicora/' she said, in a low voice. '' You hated 
 
214 PANOLA. 
 
 me and you are hcrCy^ Inlying the sheet back over 
 the dead face. 
 
 Madame Boiling went out as quietly as she had 
 entered the room. Nana hobbled after her. Keleas- 
 ing iMark's hand, Joe went swiftly to the side of 
 the body. Mark rolled himself after him. The 
 wheels of Mark's chair were noiseless. They were 
 kept covered with felt to prevent noise. Joe had 
 taken out the flowers that Madame Boiling: had 
 placed on Chicora's breast. They were a pretty 
 bunch of sweet pea blossoms, tied with a white 
 satin riband. Joe looked at them, smelled them, 
 and handed them to Mark. Mark did the same. 
 They were harmless flowers enough. Joe took the 
 flowers as ]\Iark laid them down on the sheet asrain, 
 and going to the window he threw them out as far as 
 he could send them. 
 
 " Chicora not like Madame Boiling," he said to 
 Mark. " Xot like her flowers.'' 
 
 Mark nodded his head. He thought Joe was 
 right. . 
 
A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE. 215 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE. 
 
 THE Southern States were in a very prostrate 
 condition. All property was greatly de- 
 pressed in value. Taxes were in arrears, and the 
 labor was so uncertain that those who had most land 
 Avere the worst off. They had more taxes and debts 
 to pav, and less money to meet their obligations 
 with. The sugar estates were lying fallow for hun- 
 dreds of miles, and the people who owned them were 
 absolutely starving in the midst of their fertile but 
 uncultivated fields. Little debts accumulated from 
 interest, and large plantations were sold for a mere 
 trifle. The people were very poor and unaccus- 
 tomed to labor. It was very piteous. The mere 
 physical distress was agonizing to witness. Misery, 
 wretchedness, and a feeble struggle for the bare 
 necessaries of life met the eye on every side. The 
 misfortune was universal. A whole race had gone 
 down in this Titanic fight, and now they were per- 
 ishing off the earth, which had no further use for 
 that class of people. Nature appears to be ver>^ 
 pitiless, but the roots of progress seem to be planted 
 always in the grave of the past. 
 
 Three races were dying out now in the Southern 
 States. There was the race of the white slave- 
 
216 PAXOLA. 
 
 owner, the aristocratic gentleman of America. Ilis 
 knell had been sounded. Tiien the fiat had gone 
 forth against the red Indian. He was to be hunted 
 from off the earth. Thea the doom bad been 
 written on the wall against the African. He was 
 to be absorbed and to be killed by vice and intem- 
 perance, and lack of moral discipline. None but 
 the strong races can survive in this perpetual con- 
 flict of humanity. Its issues are good for the world, 
 but individuals suffer in the trampling under foot 
 of this mastodon, Progress. 
 
 Philosophers may watch with intelligent gaze this 
 changing woof in the loom of earthly life. But 
 often the threads may be dyed in the philosopher's 
 heart's blood. It is only the gods who sit upon the 
 height of Olympus who survey human affairs with 
 calm eyes and impartial interest. Some clever 
 l^eople had foreseen the end of the strife, and had 
 wisely made provision against the evil day. 
 
 Amono^st these was Madame Boilins:. She had 
 managed somehow, by trading and " looking 
 around,'' to pick up a few hundred bales of cotton, 
 which she now sold at the price of four hundred 
 dollars per bale. It gave her a nice little sum to 
 start again in the world with. 
 
 Panola had left her place in her aunt's care, while 
 she had gone to New Orleans to consult a lawyer as 
 to the mode necessary for her to take in order to 
 free Victor from the bonds he had put upon his 
 
A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE. 217 
 
 own liands as Avell as hers. Slie found little diffi- 
 culty ; though the laws of Louisiana are very 
 stringent in regard to marriage, yet the proof of 
 Victor's abandonment of his wife of an hour was 
 so conclusive, being his own statements in his own 
 letter, that the judge gave the decision immediately 
 in favor of the divorce, allowing Panola to resume 
 her maiden name of Flanoy. 
 
 While she was in New Orleans attending to this 
 business, she was astounded to see a notice in the 
 papers of the sale of her mother's property on ac- 
 count of a small debt and judgment for back taxes. 
 The sale was by the sheriff of the parish, and her 
 aunt had bought in the whole property for a mere 
 sonor. Panola had known nothinoj of the matter 
 until she saw this notice. But the next day she 
 had a letter from her aunt, telling her that she had 
 purchased the estate, and oflPering to Panola a home 
 Avith her in very affectionate terms. 
 
 Panola laid the^letter down with surprise. She 
 did not understand this move at all. But it all 
 seemed to be done legally. She also had a letter 
 from Mark, reproaching her for not letting him 
 know about this debt and the condition of her 
 affairs. " He might, perhaps, have found some 
 means of aiding her, or at least of raising the money 
 by mortgage on the property." 
 
 Panola was amazed ; but one thing was clear to 
 her. She had lost her estate. If she had known 
 
218 PANOLA. 
 
 of it in time, slie was sure, if she had applied to 
 Satana, he would have helped her. But what to do 
 now she did not see. A home with her aunt Boil- 
 ing she would not accept. Though Panola had 
 never shared her mother's dislike to her aunt, yet 
 she felt somehow as if she would not like to live 
 with or to be dependent on her. So she wrote a 
 note declining her aunt's proffered kindness; and to 
 !Mark she wrote, frankly telling him she had not 
 known anything about the law suit and judgment. 
 But it was too late to remedy the evil now. The 
 property was gone. Docteur Cauonge wrote a lov- 
 ing letter to Panola, inviting her to come '^to take 
 care of him and his poor Mark." Panola wept 
 over the affectionate letter of the good old man. 
 But she could not go to Docteur Canonge. Shortly 
 afterward Mark received this letter from her : 
 
 " Deak Mark : — I have at last succeeded in 
 arranging my little affairs. Through the kindness 
 of Von La Plache and Olivera, who aided me, the 
 one on the piano, and tlie other with his exquisite 
 violin, I gave a very successful concert here last 
 night. You will see the notice of it in the jiapers 
 of the day, which I send you. The laudations are 
 rather extravagant, but it was quite a little triumph 
 for me. I was rather not frightened, more excited, 
 when Olivera led me on to the stage, violin in hand. 
 (My Straduarius is finer than his instrument.) 
 
A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE. 219 
 
 You know mine was found in Mexico in an old 
 Spanish family, where it had been an heirlooui, and 
 papa paid an immense sum for it. Poor papa! He 
 little thought he was purchasing a means for his 
 daughter to make her bread. At first, my eyes took 
 in a sea of faces and heads that made my own head 
 swim. But Von La Hache struck a bold chord to 
 cover my confusion, and Olivera kindly whispering 
 ' coura<T:e, allons/ drew his bow across the violin in 
 the first notes of our duo, which it had been con- 
 sidered best for me to make my essay in public 
 with. At the sound of the violin a wonderful sense 
 of power stole over me, and settling my Stradu- 
 arius, I drew my bow with as much firmness of 
 touch and clearness of tone as I ever did in my life. 
 I forgot the faces, and only listened to the witching 
 notes from Olivera's instrument as it mounted, like 
 a bird, higher and higher, I following in a vain 
 emulation, until at last we both burst out into a 
 gush of music that carried us both away. I believe 
 we both forgot the audience. I am sure I did, 
 until I was recalled to consciousness by the storm 
 of applause. It was very exciting, the waving of 
 handkerchiefs, and the air seemed to rain flowers, 
 as bouquets fell all over the stage around us. 
 
 "After we had retired, during the interval, A"on 
 La Hache seized my hands in ecstacy. ^Dear 
 Madame, your fortune is made. You play like an 
 aiigel.' 
 
220 PANOLA. 
 
 " "Well ! You know Francid's angels are playing 
 on violins in those famous pictures of his. And I 
 have seen a St. Cecelia also playing on the violin. 
 So Von La Hache's compliment was not so far out 
 of the way. The issue of it all, dear Mark, is that 
 your little Panola is become suddenly famous. The 
 impressario of the opera house has called upon me 
 this morning, with proposals for a series of concerts, 
 and others have been here, editors and all sorts of 
 people, urging different kinds of engagements and 
 plans upon me until ray head aches. But I think 
 I shall accept an offer from an agent who wishes 
 me to give concerts in all the principal cities, and 
 perhaps I shall go to Europe. I have secured a 
 good respectable maid, over middle age, to accom- 
 pany me. Love to grandpapa Canonge and to Liz- 
 
 bette. Your affectionate 
 
 " Pais^ola. 
 
 " P. S. — I have made one thousand dollars al^ 
 ready by my concerts. You see I shall be quite 
 rich if I go on. Dear Mark, you must let me help 
 grandpapa Canonge. I know how proud you are 
 about money, but I have a right to help the dear 
 old man, who is like my father. I shall deposit 
 money from time to time, subject to your order, for 
 his use. You can draw it without letting him 
 know. Won't you do this for mef — for Fanolaf 
 
 Mark read this letter with mingled feelings. He 
 
A SUCCESSFUL DEBUTANTE. 221 
 
 was proud of Panola's great success, and yet he 
 disliked the publicity of it all. He disliked to 
 take money from her, and yet he saw how it would 
 hurt her if he refused it. They were very poor 
 now. The old docteur was getting too old and too 
 feeble to continue his practice. Lizbette was old 
 and rheumatic, and Mark was helpless. His three 
 hundred per annum, from his uncle Jacob's will, 
 was really all that they had to depend upon to keep 
 the little household from destitution. His grand- 
 father talked of selling his books, but Mark knew 
 that that would break the old man's heart; and 
 then he would get little or nothing for them in the 
 depressed condition of the country. Mark thought 
 over every thing. Victor and Katika had both 
 written, proffering aid to their grandfather and to 
 Mark, but both had rejected it with scorn. They 
 had disclaimed all further intercourse with Victor 
 and Xatika, who had gone away together and had 
 been privately married as soon as Panola had pro- 
 cured the divorce. 
 
 Mark snatched a piece of paper, and wrote in 
 reply to Panola, congratulating her upon her suc- 
 cess as a musicienne, and assuring her of the hearty 
 sympathy of his grandflither and himself in all her 
 undertakings. In regard to the money, he said, 
 " Yes, Panola, I ^vill take from you so much as is 
 needful for the comfort of my grandfather, who 
 loves you so much ; and even what I absolutely 
 
222 PANOLA. 
 
 need I will take from yov — Mliat I would not from 
 any other living being. But 1 have enough for my 
 small wants, you know, from my uncle Jacob's will. 
 AVrite to us daily, Panola. AVe miss you every 
 hour, and talk of you, and think of you always. 
 *' Your friend and relative, 
 
 *'Maek Bollixg." 
 
 Poor IMark wrote and rewrote and erased his 
 letter in order to get it cool enough, and yet to give 
 some expression to gratitude natural under the cir- 
 cumstances and proper to be expressed. So Panola 
 started off on her tour of concert-giving, and she 
 wrote a journal, which she sent back continually to 
 the little household, which she called now ^' home.'^ 
 It was the only excitement they had in the quiet 
 monotony of the sad country ; and Mark looked 
 with impatient eagerness for the daily coming of the 
 long letters which never failed, and which amused 
 grandfather Canonge excessively. Panola's obser- 
 vations were so original and so fresh. The old 
 man would laug-h till tears were in his eves, over 
 her descriptions of scenes and the people she met. 
 
SEYENTEEXTH CENTURY POISON. 223 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A SEYENTEENTII CENTURY POISON. 
 
 PAXOLA'S letters and a visit from an occasional 
 tourist, attracted by Docteur Canonge's scien- 
 tific fame, were the chief events in life to Mark 
 now, when suddenly one morning Professor Romer 
 presented himself at the gate. He was travel- 
 w^orn and weary, and did not look at all like a 
 respectable individual, his habiliments being con- 
 siderably the worse for wear. But he had bought 
 himself a shiny tall beaver hat, and a new cloth 
 overcoat, which he displayed to Mark with all the 
 joy of a child. 
 
 I^Iark fairly embraced Eomer, and Docteur Can- 
 onge rapturously kissed him on both cheeks. 
 PvcTmer was at home in a few seconds, and then, 
 after resting a day, he proceeded to enjoy himself 
 in his own'fashion. He brought out his blotting 
 books and tin boxes, and took possession of part of 
 the library. He was gratified at the opportunity to 
 study the unknown flora of this country. Cher- 
 okee Joe had made his appearance again, and had 
 taken up his quarters at Docteur Canonge's. He 
 wouldn't go to Madame Boiling's house, but he 
 might be seen at any hour of the day lounging 
 about with his gun on his shoulder, or bringing a 
 brace of teal or snipe from ^^the ponds." 
 
224 PANOLA. 
 
 Lizbette was alwavs Avillino^ to scive Joe what she 
 called '' liis wiftles/^ because he kei:)t the larder sup- 
 plied with game. Joe slept in the hay-loft over 
 the stable at night; but he could be found in the 
 evenings sitting bolt upright at the kitchen fire, 
 gazing into the blaze, and breaking his obstinate 
 silence with the customary ^' ughs," in reply to 
 Lizbette, who was glad to have anybody to talk to, 
 even if it was only an Indian. 
 
 Professor Romer made friends with Joe, who 
 showed him where all the rarest and straufrest 
 plants grew. One morning the professor came into 
 Mark's study with his box of specimens ^yell filled, 
 and Joe followed after him, bearing a game-bag 
 stuffed with the similar spoils of innocent science. 
 Joe stood and watched with great curiosity, while 
 the professor seated himself and began to arrange 
 and label his specimens for drying. It amused 
 Mark too, and he aided the professor in laying the 
 plants straight between the sheets of blotting paper 
 which the professor carried about for this pur2)ose. 
 The professor talked all the time in broken English. 
 He was a very communicative, genial man. 
 
 Joe had deposited his bag on the table, and stood 
 now by it, immovably upright, with his hand upon 
 his gun ; his bright, black eyes glancing curiously 
 at ]\Iark and the professor as they worked and 
 talked about the plants before them. 
 
 ^' This mornin'," said the professor, " I have had 
 
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY POISON 22-3 
 
 great success. I saw growing outside in the road, 
 near von leetle liouse niit verandah, quite ruinous 
 now, a plant what I have never yet see in dis con- 
 tree. It grow plentiful in Europe, and I know it 
 dere well. I was sure it could not be natif here. 
 It stray ver like out of die garten of die house, or 
 out of some cultivated place. It was die plant dat 
 I do know. I examine him well. He was quite 
 leetle. But I know die leaf. So I tell Joe dat I 
 like to go inside in dat leetle house place for to see 
 if zere was ever a garten. Joe say ' ugh/ and we 
 clime over die fence. Dere was no gate or it was 
 nail up, and we get in dis leetle house garten. It 
 was so vild. Every ting was vild. It have been 
 long neglectit, but dere vas, oh, great variety of 
 thos' interestin' plants dere dat I tink I ever see in 
 one place togedder. Der was many natif j^lants, 
 very interestin', and also dere was oders not natif. 
 It was mos remarkable, die number of plants medic- 
 inal dere. I gader a great many. Some what you 
 call die plants of i:)oison. But so all is medicine. 
 Medicine is poison, bad use; and poison is medi- 
 cine, good use. I find dis leetle j^lant plenty in 
 dere. Some of him was bloom in', here is he.'' 
 And Professor Homer held up a si)ray of pea blos- 
 soms Mark started. He recos^nizcd the flowers. 
 They were of the same kind as those that Madame 
 Boiling had laid upon Chicora's breast. Joe saw 
 
 this hastv movement. His eye twinkled as he met 
 II 
 
226 PANOLA. 
 
 INIark's, but he said nothing. He only stared 
 harder at the professor, who was holding the little 
 spray aloft, as he continued talking on rapidly. 
 
 "This pretty leetle papilionaceous flower is a 
 very dangerous plant. It is an astragalus. It is 
 the lathyrus sativus. In die seventeenth century it 
 work much mischief. Die poebel eat it in dere 
 bread, or in oder w^ays. It have no bad taste, only 
 sweet an' ver' 2)leasant. But w-hen it is eat good 
 deal it have ver' bad effects. A great rigidity of 
 die limbs will ensue, causing loss of all die muscular 
 power bcyon' die reach of cure. Dere is no pre- 
 monitory pain ; die patient experience only ver' 
 slight diminution of strength, when all of sudden 
 he fine his limbs all rigid an' movement is impos- 
 sible. You will feed pigeons on die seeds, and dey 
 W'ill walk no more. I have try on die pigeons 
 myself. George, Duke of Wirtemberg, in 1671, 
 publish an edict forbidding die planting of dis pea, 
 an' Leopold, his successor, j^ublish two edicts, in 
 1705 and 1714, against dis leetle plant, an' now I 
 finds him in America. Is it not ver'^ interedia^ .^" 
 
 The professor was so occupied in pasting down 
 his "interestin"' specimen of "dis leetle pea," that he 
 did not observe Mark's growing pallor, or the ex- 
 pression of intense horror that overspread his sensi- 
 tive countenance. He shuddered as he looked at 
 the plant which the unconscious professor was 
 quietly spreading out and arranging to suit his 
 fastidious taste. 
 
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY POISON. 227 
 
 "^ly God!'' exclaimed horror-stricken jVfark. 
 Clierokcc Joe leaned over, and looked at the plant, 
 neatly stretched ont, and stuck in its place by bits 
 of paper glued with mucilage, lying before the 
 professor. 
 
 "You tink dat so dreadful?" continued the pro- 
 fessor. " Dcre was plenty of plants in dat leetle 
 garten worser as dat. Dere was many ver' wicked 
 plants dere. I haf got deni all. I will show 
 
 you." 
 
 [Mark recovered himself. He dared not say 
 more. He must take time to thinlv before he acted. 
 God ! it was aicjid! aicjal ! The drops stood upon 
 his brow. 
 
 Joe drew back, after he had taken a careful look 
 at the plant, with a deep " ngh." Then suddenly 
 thrusting his red hand before the professor's eyes, 
 almost knocking off the savant's spectacles, he said, 
 " What that ? " 
 
 They were the identical peas he had shown to 
 Victor in years previous. 
 
 The professor took them out of Joe's hand and 
 examined them. 
 
 " Why, dose are the very peas," he said. " That 
 is the fruit of the lathyrxis satiuus. What are you 
 to do wid dem ? Dey must not be eat." 
 
 "Take to Satana," said Joe, as he had said before 
 to Victor. And Joe gathered the peas up out of 
 the professor's hand, and replaced them in his skin 
 pouch. 
 
228 PANOLA. 
 
 "Is there no antidote for this plant known?" 
 asked Mark at lengtli, when he couKl command his 
 voice. 
 
 '^Xone/' replied Komer, laconically. "I have 
 tried every zing on die pigeons. Dey never got any 
 better.'^ 
 
 < m * • * 
 
 CHAPTER XXyi. 
 
 TRAGIC RETEIBUTIOX. 
 
 MARK was greatly troubled at the revelation 
 made so unconsciously to him by Professor 
 Romer. It was impossible to doubt this evidence 
 of the wickedness of the woman who had been his 
 father's wife, and now that the thread of disentanofle- 
 ment had been given into his hands he saw many 
 circumstances in a new aspect to confirm its truth. 
 He remembered the remarks made at the time of 
 his father's death; of Major Flanoy's sudden death; 
 of Chicora's long illness, with its strange, remittent 
 character; his own illness under his stepmother's 
 care; and Mark groaned and shuddered at the fear- 
 ful atmosphere of crime which surrounded that 
 woman, and in which he, with so many others, had 
 been unconsciously living. Gazing at the spray of 
 pea-blossoms, he wondered at the blindness of him- 
 self and of every one else. They might have read 
 
TRAGIC RETRIBUTION. 220 
 
 about these plants in a Imndrecl books in his grand- 
 father's library — materia medicas, that they had in 
 their hands every day. lie got down several ; yes, 
 there it was, the description of this lathyrus scdlvus. 
 "Whv, any child would have known it. 
 
 He rano; the bell and told Lizbette to send 
 Cherokee Joe to him. Lizbette said "Joe had left 
 at daybreak, and had said he was going to the 
 Kation and would not be back soon again." 
 
 Mark was driven back to communings with his 
 own unquiet soul. AVhat was he to do? Expose 
 this woman ? or what ? She was his father's widow ; 
 his father whom she had very probably murdered ! 
 She was h female Thug ; she was a malignant and 
 poison-breathing creature, who struck in the dark 
 at the very highest and noblest. Yet she was Pa- 
 nola's aunt by the half-blood. Panola ! how glad 
 he w^as that Panola 'svas away from under that per- 
 nicious influence which would have not hesitated 
 to attack even her sweet, pure life. What teas he 
 to do ? 
 
 Mark asked himself the question every minute. 
 Would it be best to tell his grandfather or not ? 
 Should he see the wretched woman privately and 
 tell her how he had discovered her crimes ? If he 
 did, and she were to go away, would it not be to 
 carry death and evil wherever she did go ? ]Mark 
 was of a pitiful nature, but he recognized the 
 absolute necessity of human beings destroying all 
 
230 PANOLA. 
 
 poisonous serpents and serpent-like creatures. Man 
 is obliged to kill them, else they exist only to do 
 evil. 
 
 In regard to his own condition IMark had made 
 inquiries, not only from Professor Kbmer, but in all 
 the books he could find that touched on the subject; 
 there was no known cure for the effects produced by 
 the poisonous pea. He had probably taken very 
 little, not enough to produce the rigidity of the 
 muscles, which was the full effect of the plant. He 
 had probably only received a dose or so as an experi- 
 ment and test of the power of the plant. Still, it 
 made him more hopeless than ever of his regaining 
 the use of his limbs. Poor Chicora ! oh, it was 
 inexpressibly horrible to think of! 
 
 Professor Romer departed on the following day, 
 with his trunk filled with specimens, a very happy 
 man, and Mark sat brooding in his chair, most 
 miserable. He had been sitting for hours lost in 
 thought, when he saw a man gallop swiftly up to 
 the door in a very excited manner, who called loudly 
 for Docteur Canonge. His grandfather went out, 
 exchanged a few^ words with the man, then with a 
 gesture full of horror the old docteur put his hat on 
 his head, mounted the man's horse, and rode away 
 rapidly, leaving the man to follow on foot or as he 
 could. The docteur's horse was grazing in a pasture 
 some little distance off from the house. The man 
 remained talking violently to Lizbette, who listened; 
 
TRAGIC RETRIBUTION. 231 
 
 sliowing by her pantomime that she was greatly 
 agitated ; but at hi.it the man went away, and Liz- 
 bctte came into Mark with a face full of terror and 
 excitement. 
 
 " Oh ! master Mark, there's the dreadful lest thing 
 has happened ! Poor Madame Boiling ! she was 
 well and up at dinner-time, at two o'clock this day, 
 and now she is lying dead on her bed with her neck 
 broke, and nobody knows anything about it ! She 
 was walking on the verandah when the servants saw 
 her last. They were all in the kitchen and the back 
 part of the house, and at sun-down, when the maid 
 went to her mistress' room to fix the bed, there was 
 Madame Boiling lying dead, her head hanging over 
 the side of the bed, as if somebody had throwed 
 her on it. There wasn't no sign of scuffling on the 
 bed or in the room. She was killed on the gallery 
 and then brou^^ht in and fluno; on the bed. There 
 was a tiny stream of drops of blood all the way from 
 the banisters of the gallery to her room. Her head 
 was flung back as if some one had just forced it 
 back with his hand until it snapped. There ain't 
 no sign of a weapon, and no bruises or marks about 
 her, and there ain't no tracks of a man neither, but 
 then it is grass lawn all around the verandah, and 
 that wouldn't show no footprints, nohow. O 
 Lord ! what a country to live in ! with wars and 
 fightings and murders and starvation on all sides 
 of us!'' 
 
232 PAXOLA. 
 
 This was all Lizbctte kuew. JNIark had to wait 
 until his grandfather returned for further intelli- 
 gence. The old docteur was very much excited. 
 He confirmed Lizbette's account. This murder had 
 beeu done in open daylight, and in a house full of 
 servants, and yet no cry for aid had escaped the 
 victim. It was most mysterious. Mrs. Smith and 
 some of the neighbors were there now. Everything 
 had been done, but ]Madame Boiling was dead. 
 
 !Mark now told his grandfather about tlie lathyrus 
 satlvus, and all he suspected. The old man was 
 overcome with surprise and horror ; suspicion flashed 
 across his mind. 
 
 " ]]liere was Cherokee Joe f Xo one had seen him 
 for two days past. He was gone to the Xation/' 
 everybody said. 
 
 Madame Boiling was buried ; a marble slab was 
 put over her grave, which nearly covered it, but 
 ^lark, driving past there one day, long afterward, 
 saw that the marble slab was nearly concealed from 
 view by the twining, twisting, climbing vines of the 
 poison-pea. TI7io had planted them so thickly upon 
 that grave ? It was matted with the plant. Mark 
 knew but two persons who were likely to have done 
 this : old Nana for love, Cherokee Joe for hatred. 
 
 Joe did not return from the Nation. " He had 
 gone out on the Western prairies,^' some of his people 
 said ; but an empty purse of deerskin ^'^as picked 
 up near the gate of the little churchyard. Lizbette 
 
TRAGIC RETRIBUTION. 23 
 
 o 
 
 said that It was " Joe's purse," and she gave it to 
 Indian Molly, who received it in stolid silence. 
 
 "Joe been here lately ?^^ asked Lizbette. 
 
 " Joe gone to Xation," replied Molly, laconically. 
 
 "What you think about Madame Boiling's 
 death ? '^ asked Lizbette, curiously. 
 
 "Ah-skeen-er," laconically replied Molly. 
 
 " Where are goin', Molly ? " asked Lizbette. 
 " I see you've got your pusscoos strapped on your 
 back, and all those baskets. Those are very pretty 
 baskets. What will you take for that fanner ? " 
 
 Lizbette was always ready to make a bargain. 
 The "fanner," a large, flat basket, made of very 
 finely split-cane, woven double, was indeed a beauti- 
 ful work of Indian art, being extremely fine in the 
 plaiting, and very tastefully ornamented with colored 
 borders of red and black dyed splits of the reed. 
 Molly unstrapped the baskets and sat herself down 
 on the ground, ready for a trade. Her " pusscoos " 
 blinked its bright-black eyes when Lizbette chucked 
 it under the chin. 
 
 "That pusscoos is the very image of Joe," said 
 Lizbette " Wait, I'll give you a flannel gown for 
 it : bran new red flannel, and a piece of sugar, too. 
 AVhat will you take for the fanner, IMolly?" 
 
 Molly held up her hand with the thumb bent 
 into the palm. 
 
 " Four bits," she said. 
 
 " Four bits ! That's too much." 
 
234 PANOLA. 
 
 " Fanner vely fine/' said ]\Iolly ; " plenty work 
 to make him/' 
 
 "But that's too much/' argued LIzbette ; "I'll 
 give you three bits and a new handkerchief, red 
 and blue — see ! " 
 
 Molly shook her head, smiling : " Xo." 
 
 " Well, then, three bits and a new tin-cup." 
 
 Molly laughed, and repeated her head-shaking 
 of refusal: "Xo." 
 
 "Well, then, three bits and the tin-cup and a 
 bottle of whiskey," said Lizbette. 
 
 Molly laughed, with her mouth wider open 
 than ever, showing all her white teeth, but she 
 nodded her head in acquiescence. 
 
 " I thought you would," said Lizbette. " Indians 
 does love whiskey — well, I like a little myself 
 sometimes, when I have a misery in my inwards. 
 Molly, wait till I go into the house after the 
 things." 
 
 Lizbette turned back from the gate, where this 
 colloquy had taken place, and re-entered the house, 
 whence she soon emerged bearino; the bottle of 
 whiskey, the tin-cup, the red flannel and the sugar 
 for the " pusscoos." Molly untied the fanner, and 
 then selecting one of her very prettiest baskets, fitted 
 for holding eggs, she laid it inside the fanner and 
 handed both to Lizbette. " Pusscoos give you this," 
 she said. 
 
 Lizbette thanked her heartily, and untying her 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 235 
 
 own necklace of yellow beads, she addcJ that to 
 the parcel for Molly. Lizbctte was very generous, 
 though she liked to trade and beat down prices 
 of things. 
 
 " Tankee, Lizbctte," said Molly. " Bye, Liz- 
 bctte, I'm goin' to Nation.'^ 
 
 "Good-bye, iMolly; good-bye, pusscoos." 
 
 " That wa.s a good bargain," remarked Lizbette 
 to herself; "them baskets is worth at least two 
 dollars, specially the fanner. That little pusscoos' 
 eyes are jist like a coon's, they is so bright and 
 so fierce-lookin' !" 
 
 ^^Ah-skeen-erj indeed ; it's always ah-skcen-er 
 with Injins! and no satisfaction with them. Ah~ 
 sheen-er! I believe it is ' ah- Joe' and ^ ali-Cherohee' 
 myself! Injins is so deceitful! That fanner is a 
 real beauty, sure ! " 
 
 • ^ ♦ » »■■ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 PANOLA IN PARIS. 
 
 PAXOLA had made a very successful tour 
 through the United States; so much so that 
 her agent considered it advisable that she should go 
 to Europe and try for the laurels that are freely be- 
 stowed there upon all real original talent. Panola had 
 
236 PANOLA. 
 
 signed the articles of agreement before she learned 
 of the death of Madame Boiling, though, being the 
 next of kin, she now inherited all that ill-fated 
 woman's property. She wrote to Mark, asking him 
 to take charge of her affairs in Louisiana, as she did 
 not feel justified in breaking her engagement on an 
 instant's notice. 
 
 The truth was that Panola icas pleased and inter- 
 ested in the life she was leading. She cared more 
 for the music of it than the fame; and she looked 
 forward eagerly to the chance of progress and im- 
 provement in her art, which such a tour as that 
 she had undertaken promised to her. She would 
 hear all the great musicians of the world, and she 
 would learn so much. The prospect was very 
 tempting to her, and fame is pleasant, very pleasant. 
 She enjoyed being the favorite of the hour. She 
 was entirely en rapport with her public — had a per- 
 fect entente cordiale towards it en masse — that is, 
 when it was seated in serried rows on the benches 
 before her. Then she delighted in the power she 
 had of bringing smiles or tears to human eyes and 
 lips. Individually, people did not interest Panola. 
 They fatigued her and occupied the time she pre- 
 ferred to give to her music — that is, unless they 
 were real musicians, and could teach her something; 
 then Panola would listen to them with eas-er eves 
 and parted lips. She had said once to Victor : 
 " Music is my life, I think/' and it seemed to be 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 237 
 
 really true. So, in the midst of her brilliant career 
 as an artiste, Panola lived the simplest and quietest 
 life possible. She saw no one, except on business or 
 music. Her faithful maid was always with her, 
 accompanying her to and fro wherever she went. 
 
 Of course Panola was often subjected to the atten- 
 tions which every attractive " diva '' receives. She 
 was wondrously beautiful, and beauty attracts as 
 honey does flies and wasps ; but it ^yas almost im- 
 possible to approach Panola. Gifts she positively 
 rejected even from sovereigns, except a flower, and 
 those she preferred to receive in public. Letters 
 and notes were opened by her secretary, except her 
 private letters from " home." The secretary read 
 them aloud to her as she sat at her breakfast, and 
 jotted down the notes of reply on the outside ; so 
 that lovers' billet doux fared badly under these 
 prosaic arrangements. If a billet was extremely 
 oritxinal and funnv, Panola would sometimes send it 
 to grandpapa Canonge and Mark to read and laugh 
 over. 
 
 Panola awoke enthusiasm wherever she went. 
 The wildest and most extravagant tales were circu- 
 lated about her. She was an " Indian Princess;'' 
 she was the heroine of the most romantic histories; 
 there certainly was some mystery about this wonder- 
 fully beautiful Louisianaise, who played better on 
 the violin than Gottschalk did on the piano. People 
 took out their atlasses and looked to see in what 
 
238 PANOLA. 
 
 corner of the earth " Louisiana'^ was located ; and 
 would spread their fingers ov^er that portion of the 
 United States. "Just to think of all this beinoj 
 inhabited by civilized people ! It is really wonder- 
 ful ! Such a new country, too ! " and then they 
 patronized Panola more than ever. 
 
 She did not know that they were patronizing her! 
 She thought she was doing them a great favor 
 in playing for them. Her happiest hours w'ere 
 when she stood, violin in hand, before the public. 
 There was no stay in the furore that she inspired, 
 and her agent gathered in gold with both hands. 
 He gave her a fair portion of it, and she sent it all 
 home to "grandpapa and ]\Iark." Her pure, loving 
 heart was anchored there, in that nook of the 
 Louisiana prairie country. 
 
 From Paris, where she now was, she wrote thus 
 to Mark : 
 
 " I have been here a month — well received. I 
 think the Parisians are kinder to me because I come 
 from a French colony, and they think I am a 
 Creole. They feel a sort of esprit de famille in me. 
 The papers are very complimentary ; but better 
 than all is the kindly manner in which the great 
 musicians here receive me. They are truly good to 
 me. At ray first concert I recognized, in one of the 
 side loges, Victor. It did not agitate me to see him 
 there. I don't believe I should mind meeting him 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 239 
 
 at all. I only disliked Victor during the brief 
 period that I was his nominal wife. I suppose you 
 will think it very strange, but I really believe I 
 should rather like being on friendly terms with him; 
 but under the circumstances, that, I suppose, is not 
 permissible. Xatika might not like it. Victor is 
 looking wretchedly— the ghost of his former self— 
 and has a bad cough ; I often hear it as he attempts 
 to stifle it. Sometimes he has to go out into the 
 foyer and cough ; then he comes back. You know 
 he is devoted to music, and he always did like 
 mine. Poor Victor ! he is ill I I wonder where 
 Natika is? but probably she would not come to 
 hear me play ! 
 
 ******* 
 "I have heard something of Victor. He is here 
 alone. Natika is spending the winter in Egypt for 
 her health, they say. Victor is said to be dying of 
 consumption — a rapid development of the disease. 
 Poor fellow ! 
 
 ******* 
 "To-night, in playing, I saw poor Victor rise 
 and go out to cough; then he came back. He 
 looked so feeble and so sad. I don't know whether 
 it was right or wrong in me, but my heart ached for 
 the poor suffering fellow. His eyes are more like 
 yours than ever, Mark ; they look larger and deeper 
 in expression than they used to do. 
 
 " I was called back three times after every piece, 
 
240 PAXOLA. 
 
 and at the last encore I signed to have my violin 
 handed back to me. It was brouMit. AVhen I took 
 it again in ray hands, smiling, the house rose. You 
 never heard such a noise as they did make ; but at 
 the first scrape of the bow all was still. I played, 
 for the first time in Europe, an improvisation. I 
 played it for Victor T played some things he used 
 to sing for us — some things mamma liked — as 
 tenderly as I could ; then I played some modula- 
 tions, and got into ' Dixie ^ and the ^Bonnie Blue 
 Flag;' and wound up with an allegro on the corn 
 song of the negroes, and the extravaganza of the 
 'Arkansas Traveller.' Victor knew then that I had 
 recognized him. He waved his hand sadly, and 
 put it up over his eyes — I think he wept. I quitted 
 the stage, and the curtain dropped. As I was leaving 
 the dressinsf-room to return to mv lodo^ino:s, accom- 
 2)anied, as usual, by my good Ellen, a note was 
 handed me from Victor — here it is; I send it to you 
 to read : 
 
 "' Panola : — I think, from your music to-night, 
 that you have forgiven me. You can recall the past 
 without j)ain or anger. I know that means 
 that you never did love me much. If you 
 loved me you would not have forgiven or forgotten 
 so readilv. So that emboldens me — as mortifvino; 
 as the facts may be to any man's vanity — yet it em- 
 boldens me to approach you. They tell me I am 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 241 
 
 dying. I suppose I am. I suffer enough, God 
 knows ! and I feel so utterly forlorn and so lonely. 
 I can't tell you what I felt in hearing the sound 
 ajrain of your Straduarius, and of the intense lono;- 
 ino; for home and childhood's friends that came over 
 me when I saw you. I have heard nothing from 
 Louisiana for so long — grandpapa and Mark have 
 thrown us off, you know^ — Natika and me. Some old 
 Roman, I don't remember who — Coriolanus, I think 
 — said, " It is onlv in old ao;e that one feels how 
 bitter it is to be an exile from one's country.'' Oh, 
 Panola ! illness and pain act like old age for me ! 
 I can't tell you how I long and yearn for home, 
 and for the old familiar faces. It would be a 
 charity in you to receive me for an hour. May I 
 come? If so, send a note to Xumero 11, Rue St. 
 Honore. "^Victor.' 
 
 "I wrote him to come the next morning at eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 :f: :{£ :i: :{: H< ;(: :|e 
 
 " Punctually at eleven o'clock Victor entered 
 my little salon. Ellen was sewing in the adjoining 
 apartment, with the door opened between us. Vic- 
 tor was very much agitated — more than I was. He 
 kissed my hand in silence as I extended it to him ; 
 then he began to cough. I pushed an easy-chair 
 towards him, and stirred up the fire to make it 
 blaze. Victor threw himself in the chair. 
 ^ 15 
 
242 PANOLA. 
 
 ^^ ^ You see me a poor wreck, Panola/ he said. 
 His face is very gaunt and emaciated. His eyes 
 are like deep caverns in his face. • 
 
 '^ I said, ' Does your cough hurt 'you much, 
 Victor?^ 
 
 " Mt times,' he replied. Then we both sat silent 
 for a while. I did not feel embarrassed, but I felt 
 so sorry, and very earnest. There was no place for 
 coquetry or trifling between us two. 
 
 "Victor did not speak; he sat looking into the 
 fire. I let him alone. I took up some embroidery 
 I was doing — a sofa-cushion for you, Mark — and 
 there we sat as composedly as we used to do : he 
 lying back m the chair, and I sewing. I got up 
 and pushed a stool under his feet. ^ It will be more 
 comfortable,' I said. 
 
 " ^ Thanks. AVhat are you making, Panola ? ' 
 
 " ^A sofa-cushion for Mark.' 
 
 " 'It is very pretty.' Then he glanced around the 
 room and spied the large photographs of you and 
 grandpapa that I carry about, and call my Lares. 
 
 " ' Those are good likenesses,' he said. * AVhen did 
 you hear last from home ? ' 
 
 " I told him. Then I got out the last package 
 of letters and read him all that I thought would 
 interest him from them. 
 
 " He asked me to let him see the last from grand- 
 papa. I gave it to him. He read it over again, 
 and kissed it, as he folded it up to return to me. 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 243 
 
 '^ ' The dear, good old man ! ^ he cried. Then we 
 started in a stream of talk. He had so many ques- 
 tions to ask, and I so much to tell. He was sur- 
 prised to hear of poor aunt Boiling's strange death. 
 I wonder what mysterious enemy she could have 
 had? You never gave me a clear account of it all, 
 somehow. 
 
 " Victor cheered up wonderfully, and at times 
 would show glimpses of his old self, in light mock- 
 ing speeches. Indeed, I found myself laughing and 
 scolding at him, just as we used to do before all 
 that terrible folly came between us. He stretched 
 himself out with his feet to the fire, and seemed 
 really comfortable. I made him a nice milk punch, 
 with real country cream in it, and gave him some 
 lunch before he left. He ate with appetite — he said 
 more than he had had for a long time. I had a 
 musical engagement after that. So I told him he 
 must go ; I had work to do. He got up instantly. 
 
 " ' I may come again, Panola ? ' 
 
 " ' You may come when you like, Victor, in 
 reasonable hours,' I said. ' I am often busy. When 
 I can see you, I will ; but of course I must do my 
 work. But you will understand that.' 
 
 *^'0f course,' he replied ; ^it is very good of you 
 to let me come at all.' 
 
 "He has been coming nearly every day. I 
 see him whenever I can, and try to do all I can 
 for him. I have told him to write to you and 
 
244 PANOLA. 
 
 to griindpapa. Answer him kindly, dear Mark — 
 dearest grandpapa : the poor fellow is so ill. 
 
 " Xatika is in Egypt, with her relatives. Victor 
 does not speak of her much to me, of course ; though 
 he might do so if he liked ; it wouldn't hurt me 
 at all." 
 
 Victor wrote : 
 
 "Paris, 18—. 
 
 " DeaPw Mark : — Panola encourages me to write 
 to you, and to dear grandpapa. She has doubtless 
 told you the condition of health in which she has 
 found me. She is so compassionate and good. 
 There is no use in referring to the past; that is 
 dead and gone. Your prophecy was true, Mark, 
 and has been so painfully fulfilled ! I am dying 
 with consumption ; but that is not the worst of it, 
 ]\Iark : I am dying alone, except for the attendance 
 of hirelings — services that money will always com- 
 mand, you know. It is a sorrowful fact which 
 forced itself upon my most unwilling mind : but I 
 am become a source of horror and disgust to my 
 poor wife. I suppose she can't help natural idio- 
 syncrasy, but ]S'atika hates sickness, and calamity, 
 and physical disease. She can't help it. Even 
 when she would try to conceal it and to repress the 
 shrinkino: from me after mv health commenced to 
 fail, I saw it plainly — she shuddered at my 
 touch. She turned pale when she would inhale my 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 245 
 
 breath. It seemed poisonous and noxious to her. 
 There was an innate repulsion towards ilhiess and 
 sick people. I feei sorry for her. All the horrid 
 paraphernalia of confirmed chronic invalidism, the 
 fevers and the coughing, and the weakness — all 
 are hateful to her. She could not hide her repug- 
 nance from me. I tried to incommode her as little 
 as possible; but, finding her so intensely bored, I 
 persuaded her to go to Egypt for the winter. She 
 is Eot very strong, and the air of the desert is said 
 to be good for delicate lungs. She was very glad to 
 go. It is an immense relief to her. I promised to 
 go to the south of France, or to Madeira. But I 
 have not gone. I have such a longing for home. 
 I wish I might come. Panola thinks you would 
 let me. 
 
 " Of course you know what a world-famous diva 
 Panola is. The people go mad over her. She 
 deserves it. She is, if anything, more beautiful 
 than ever, and she improves every day in her play- 
 ing ; she studies so hard. 
 
 " Oh, Mark ! what a fool I was ! But I dare not 
 speak of the jmst, ' when, like the base Judsean, I 
 threw away a pearl richer than all my tribe.' By 
 the way, does that mean Judas Iscariot, or Herod 
 the king, when he killed Mariamne? 
 
 "Talking of killing reminds me of INfadame 
 Boiling. I have no doubt there was retributive 
 justice in her end, though Panola don't seem to 
 
246 PANOLA. 
 
 understand about it exactly. I must tell you that 
 ^ zose Injuns ' — as grandpapa calls them — the Chero- 
 kees, Panola's respectable relatives, have not for- 
 gotten me. Every year I have received through the 
 post a peculiar letter, which, when opened, contains 
 nothing but a very correctly drawn rattlesnake 
 coiled to spring AYhoever drew it has caught the 
 reptilish characteristics admirably. 
 
 ^^ I have quite a little package of these epistles, 
 which I have carefully filed away, but which 
 certainly will not deter me from returning to 
 America. Indeed, as matters are now, I believe I 
 had rather make a finis at once, through the instru- 
 mentality of an Indian arrow or tomahawk, than 
 to shake myself to pieces, gradually, with coughing. 
 Day and night, I have no rest. I wonder if grand- 
 papa could prescribe something to alleviate my 
 wretchedness. Panola cooks me up messes that seem 
 to help me a little, temporarily. Do write soon 
 to me. I am famished for news from you and 
 grandpapa. Your loving and miserable 
 
 " Victor." 
 
 Victor to Mark, later. 
 
 "Paris, IS—. 
 
 "Dearest Mark : — Your kind letter, containing 
 the few precious words from grandpapa, reached me 
 only a few minutes ago. Thanks, a thousand thanks, 
 that you will receive back your prodigal, alas! not 
 
PANOLA IN PARIS. 247 
 
 like tlic younger son Odin, in grandpapa's story — 
 bringing j)recious gifts in his hands — but sick and 
 worn and weary : coming home only to die. 
 
 " Dear Mark, I am growing weaker day by day. 
 Panola, who has been as good to me as an angel, 
 says she will cancel her engagements here to accom- 
 pany me home. She insists upon it, and I — dear 
 !Mark, don't despise me too much — I am so weak 
 I cannot but accept this sacrifice from the woman I 
 have wronged so much. I know I have no right 
 to do it, but Panola is a part of home — that home 
 I yearn for so much — and it is such a consolation to 
 have her near me. I suffer a good deal, and she 
 seems to know how to help me, in a thousand little 
 ways of womanly ministration. 
 
 ^'I never told you, Mark, about my greatest 
 sorrow here in the birth and death of my little child. 
 It was a terrible grief and disappointment to me at 
 the time, but I think of it now with calmness, see- 
 ing I shall so soon be with my little daughter in 
 the better life. 
 
 " Xatika never liked children, and she was not 
 pleased when our little girl came. She was very ill 
 at the time of its birth. She had over-exerted her- 
 self at a f^te at Compeigne, where she had been 
 invited by the empress, and where she insisted upon 
 going, in spite of my earnest entreaties not to. She 
 danced a great dpal, until she was overcome by 
 fatigue and heat, and she fainted on her way home 
 
248 PANOLA. 
 
 from the imperial ball. Her dress was made too tight 
 and too elaborate, iii order to conceal her form. The 
 consequence was, the premature birth of my child. 
 It lived three days. It was very beautiful; and my 
 whole soul went out towards it. My poor little 
 daughter! It was baptized Victorine. Its mother 
 never noticed it much. I carried it to her bedside 
 when it was a day old, to show it to her, but she 
 merely glanced at it and said it was ' a nice little 
 thing,' and hoped the nurse was a good one. 
 
 "I assured her it was the best nurse I could pro- 
 cure in all Paris. 
 
 " She smiled lancruidlv, 'That's crood.' 
 
 '' I said timidly to her, ' AVouldn't you like to have 
 the babe lie by you a while, dear ?' 
 
 " She said, ' Xo ; she was not used to babies. She 
 might hurt it.' 
 
 "I took my child away. Natika never loved me, 
 Mark. I know that now. She did not love our 
 child either. Oh, my God ! I am fearfully 
 punished ! 
 
 '^ My little child became ill, and after watchlnsf 
 by it for two days and nights, I saw it lie dead 
 before me. I suppose it inherited no strength to 
 live from us two miserable parents. 
 
 "I told Xatlka our babe was dead. I thou2:ht she 
 might like to look at it once more before the grave 
 closed over its sweet face. But she said, ' Xo, it made 
 her shudder to think of anything born of her being 
 
victor's death. 249 
 
 dead. It seemed as if part of herself was being 
 buried/ She turned so pale and seemed to suffer so 
 much that I vowed mentally never to speak of the 
 child Qfrain to her ; and I never have. I have ordered 
 Yictoriue's remains to be sent home to you, dearest 
 ]\Iark. I had it deposited in a vault in Pere la 
 Chaise, with that intention. You will bury my 
 child among her ancestors for my sake. I shall 
 leave here next week ; pray God for me that I 
 may live to see your face once more, and dear 
 grandpapa's. " YoUR YiCTOR." 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYIII. 
 
 victor's death. 
 
 "New York, 18—. 
 it npvEAPv ]\IAEK :— You see by the date that I 
 J-^ have arrived here. AVe had a tedious and 
 tempestuous Voyage, which increased poor Yictor's 
 sufferings ; but he bore it all so patiently. He had 
 such a sweet temper naturally, and so gay and 
 bright, and really an affectionate, true heart. Poor 
 Yictor ! He was so anxious to live to reach ' home,' 
 and grandpapa and you. But, oh, j\Iark ! it seemed 
 cruel that he should die just the day before we got 
 to New York! It was so hard! I weep to think 
 of it. However it has to be borne. I am so glad 
 
250 PANOLA. 
 
 that I persisted in coming with him. I don't know 
 what he would have done without my good Ellen 
 and me. He was so weak. But he would laugh and 
 say funny things to the very last. The day before 
 he died he was sitting up on the deck in a sheltered 
 place. I was sitting by him. Ellen was below 
 preparing some little dainty for him, when a lady 
 came up and said, kindly: 
 
 "^How is your brother to-day, madame? 
 
 '^ Victor answered himself, ^that he was more 
 comfortable.' Then, when she had walked away, 
 he said : 
 
 '^' What relation am I to you, Panola?' 
 
 '^I really was nonplussed for the instant, but, re- 
 covering myself, I said: 
 
 *^'In our Indian tongue I should call you "my 
 brother:'' 
 
 "'Should you?' he said. 'And yet, how different 
 it might have ail been, Panola.' 
 
 "'It is better as it is,' I replied. 'I have always 
 kuo^\'n that.' 
 
 " ' Yes, you love your Straduarius better than you 
 do me, and ]\Iark better than the Straduarius, and 
 grandpapa better than ]Mark.' 
 
 "I smiled. Then Victor said, very seriously : 
 
 "'Panola, do vou know that I could have been 
 
 ' ml 
 
 madly in love with one other woman in the world 
 besides my infatuation for Natika; nay, even in 
 spite of it, had the fates been propitious?' 
 
victor's death. 251 
 
 " ' I know, Victor/ I said ; ^ it was with 
 
 mamma.' 
 
 *^^Yes. 1 could have loved her. I expect she 
 died cursing me too, did not she?' 
 
 " I could not reply. I expect my mother did. 
 "^AYell, it does not matter much now. In a very 
 little while all will be clear between your mother 
 and myself. I shall have an explanation with her 
 pretty soon, in the " land of the hereafter," as you 
 Indians call it.' 
 
 "Victor used to think more seriously than he 
 
 talked of things, Mark. He used to thiuk a great 
 
 deal, and I believe he often prayed ; but it was his 
 
 way to talk lightly and gayly about serious matters. 
 
 -NVictor had some lovely traits of character. 
 
 "He died quite calmly, whilst sleeping. I will 
 give you all the details when we meet, so that you 
 can write them to Xatika. I found a thick letter, 
 sealed and addressed to her, in Victor's writing- 
 desk. I forwarded it as soon as we arrived, with a 
 newspaper containing the notice of his death at sea. 
 " The remains have gone on to Louisiana. I find 
 myself so much fatigued and exhausted by watching, 
 anxiety and grief, that I must stay here a while to 
 rest, before I renew my travels. My engagement is 
 ended, and I long for home ; so you may expect me 
 soon. Grandpapa will have to take me in until I 
 can provide myself with an establishment in my own 
 long-deserted huge house. His and your 
 
 " Panola." 
 
252 PANOLA. 
 
 The group of friends stood around Victor's open 
 grave. The words '' Earth to earth, and dust to 
 dust" had just been uttered, and the earth was being 
 cast gently upon the coffin, when a woman made her 
 way through the small group to the side of the 
 grave. She had a blauket pinned over her head. 
 She put this aside, and revealed the dusky features 
 of Indian Molly, Cherokee Joe's wdfe. She knelt, 
 and laid upon the descending coffin a hatchet whose 
 handle was streaked and painted with red, and a 
 pipe tufted with red feathers ; then she rose up 
 and glided swiftly away. Death had forestalled 
 the vengeance of the Cherokee. Tlie grave was 
 filled in silence, and the vengeful w'eapous were 
 buried with Victor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 love's miracle. 
 
 IT was the very briglitest and most sunshiny of 
 days, and the mocking-birds w^ere trying to 
 kill themselves with singing, when Panola drove up 
 to the door of Docteur Canons^e's house. The old 
 man was at the gate, to clasp "his darling'' in his 
 arms; and Lizbette too, who not only hugged Panola 
 but also Ellen in the fervor of her welcome. Ellen 
 
love's miracle. 253 
 
 did not half like being kissed by the old mulattrcss, 
 but Panola returned her embrace very warmly; 
 then leaving them all far behind her — for hers were 
 the footsteps of youth and joy— Panola sprang up 
 the steps and into oSIark's study. There he sat in 
 the old place. Without a thought of wrong, Panola 
 rushed towards him with her outstretched arms. 
 "Mark! dear Mark ! " 
 « Panola ! " 
 
 With that word, :Mark, for the first time in 
 his life, clasped to his heart the one woman he loved. 
 He strained her to his bosom with an immense pas- 
 sion he could not control for an instant. Panola 
 recoiled, and seemed to struggle to free herself 
 from that passionate clasp. The meaning burst 
 upon her. It was only for an instant. The next, 
 her arms were about his neck, and her lips turned 
 up to meet his kiss — one supreme moment of bliss 
 after long parting. Panola heard grandpapa coming, 
 but she did not move; she lay still in Mark's 
 embrace. 
 
 Joy, intense and beyond expression, thrilled 
 through :SIark. Life seemed to pour in an immense 
 wave'^of emotion and vital force through every 
 nerve, every muscle. His heart beat like a drum ; 
 its pulsations could be heard. 
 
 Docteur Canonge stopped short at the door, 
 transfixed by the sudden revelation betrayed by the 
 grouping of the actors in this little domestic drama. 
 "Ah ! vat is dis? " he exclaimed. 
 
254 PANOLA. 
 
 Mark laughed aloud. He was radiant in liis 
 happiness. He gently lifted Panola from his 
 bosom. 
 
 *' She will never leave us again, grandpapa," said 
 Mark. 
 
 "!N'o, never!'' replied Panola, energetically 
 throwing herself upon the old man's breast. She 
 wept a few tears of joy. 
 
 '' Grandpapa ! Panola ! " cried Mark, suddenly, 
 lifting himself up from his chair, by resting his 
 hands on its arms ; '' Grandpapa, give me your 
 hands. It seems to me as if a new vigor was pour- 
 ing through my nerves ! I think — I believe — 
 Panola ! Let me try — help me to try to iccdkJ' 
 
 The tvro sprang towards him. They seized his 
 hands. They drew him to his feet. Mark stood 
 tottering with their arms around him. Panola 
 kissed his hands violently. " Try, jNIark ! dear 
 i\Iark, try ! One step, Mark ! " Poising one hand 
 upon her shoulder, and resting the other upon his 
 grandfather's arm, Mark, by an immense effort, 
 lifted his foot and made one step forward, then 
 another. They sustained him, their very souls 
 hanging upon his movements. 
 
 " Grasp my hand firmly, Panola ! " he cried. 
 " Life power seems to flow into me from the clasp 
 of your hands ! " 
 
 They held him firmly. He walked across the 
 room to the window, then back. 
 
LOVES MIRACLE. 2oo 
 
 '^ Now," he said, " let go my hands." They 
 dropped his hands. Docteur Canonge was weeping. 
 Panola walked away to the other side of tlie room, 
 stopped, stood leaning forward with her arms ex- 
 tended wide, as a mother does when her child makes 
 its first tottering steps. There was a whole heaven 
 of love and strength in her eyes. '^ Mark, my 
 love ! Mark ! " she said, softly. 
 
 Mark laughed in his wild, joyful excitement. 
 Throwing his head back, he stood erect and walked 
 firmly though carefully across the room, and caught 
 Panola airain in his arms ; coverino- her face with 
 kisses, he bowed his head above hers, hidden upon 
 his breast. 
 
 " My God ! I .thank thee ! " he said. 
 
 Docteur Canonge stole out of the room ; but a 
 half hour later, he poked his head inside of the 
 doorway, his eyes very red from weeping for joy, 
 and he called out in quavering tones : 
 
 "Mark, I muss apologize to zie manes of my 
 good brudder Jacob ! A wise man was Jacob ! ITe 
 know how to make you get Avell again. He was 
 better docteur as me ! I have been most ungrateful 
 to Jacob. You will have all zie money, and zie 
 Charitee will go beo*. How wise was Jacob ! " 
 
256 PANOLA. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 f 
 
 THE CHEROKEE CHIEF. 
 
 MARK and Panola walked to the little church, 
 when they were married, shortly after her 
 return. Panola had no trousseau, but she had 
 plenty of very nice clothes she had brought with 
 her from Paris. She had not even a pro2:)er wed- 
 ding-gown, but she wore a very pretty pink silk 
 one, and her wreath was made of real roses and 
 un medicated orange flowers. 
 
 Satana came from the Xation to give the bride 
 away, and Mark's curiosity in regard to this famous 
 chief was fully gratified. Satana was dressed like 
 a Christian, in the finest linen and broadcloth. He 
 wore lemon-colored gloves, and a high silk hat, 
 which he held gracefully in his hand, and he be- 
 haved altogether very much like the Christians 
 who surrounded him on this memorable occasion. 
 He was a very handsome, tall half-breed, and had 
 graduated at Yale College. So, as Lizbette said, 
 '^he knew very well what icas what J' He presented 
 Panola with some handsome jewels, and the pret- 
 tiest fan that Tyndale, of Xew York, could manu- 
 facture. And Panola found upon her dressing-table 
 her lost golden rattlesnake. 
 
 After the wedding, when he was smoking a cigar 
 
THE CHEROKEE CHIEF. 257 
 
 on the verandali with Mark and Docteur Canontre, 
 and they spoke of "the peas^' and "the powder^' 
 that Cherokee Joe had giv^en to Satana, his chief, 
 Satana said that Cheroivee Joe had seen Madame 
 Boiling mix the powders in some lemonades that 
 were prepared for jNIajor Flanoy. That he had 
 observed the expression of her face, which he did 
 not like. So he watched her and he distrusted her. 
 He stole one of the powders out of her dressing- 
 room at the Pavilion. 
 
 Shortly after Chicora was taken ill, in prowling 
 about, watching madame, he had seen Nana pound- 
 ing the peas in a mortar. He managed to secure a 
 few of them also. Then he tried to get some infor- 
 mation about the two articles. He did not succeed 
 in this, before the visit of Professor Romer; further 
 than this, and that Joe had brought the powder and 
 the peas to him^ Satana would not say if he knew. 
 Ko one could guess anything from his imperturbable 
 countenance. He quietly parried any furtlier C[ues- 
 tioning. He said Joe was gone far out west on the 
 hunting-grounds of the tribe. 
 
 Mark could scarcely persuade himself to believe 
 that this quiet, elegant gentleman^ who sat smoking 
 liis cigar so ffracefullv, was the terrible chief who 
 had led his tribe during the Confederate war, in all 
 the glory of red paint and war feathers, by the side 
 of Colonel Albert Pike. He was as gentle now "as a 
 sucking-dove.'^ But the other Indians, enemies of 
 ^16 
 
258 PANOLA. 
 
 his tribe, knew Satana very well. He grew weary 
 occasionally of the tedium of peace and civilization, 
 and when he did put on his leggings and war- 
 crown, the Comanches and Apaches sent their 
 runners to summon all their bravest allies. It re- 
 quired no telegraph to announce that Satana icas on 
 the icar-path. The '* smoke beacons" of the Indiana 
 leaped instantly from every hill top. 
 
 Satana's warriors were no longer armed with the 
 traditional bow and arrow, or the tomahawk. They 
 had very excellent Henry and Spencer breech- 
 loading rifles, and the latest improved patents of 
 revolvers. Satana was telling Mark now about a 
 very fine " Greener shot-gun of laminated steel " 
 lie had had made in England, at a cost of four hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars. He said he liked it better 
 than " one he had g^ot from Lie(>;es." Pinned care- 
 fully in the buttonhole of his black broadcloth 
 satin-lined coat Satana wore a pretty spray of 
 bright pea blossoms. He had gathered them as the 
 wedding party passed out of the churchyard. Doc- 
 teur Canonge saw him stoop down, for an instant, 
 as the cortege passed by Madame Boiling's grave, 
 and pluck a flaunting branch of the luxuriant vines. 
 
 He carelessly asked Docteur Canonge for its true 
 botanical name. That night, after he had retired 
 to his apartment, Satana put the faded flowers into 
 an envelope, sealed it, and wrote in pencil upon the 
 envelope these words : 
 
THE CHEROKEE CHIEF. 259 
 
 THE LATHYRUS SATIVTJS, 
 
 OR 
 
 CHICKEN vetchling: 
 
 FROM THE GRAVE OF MADAME BOLLTNG, 
 
 added the date, and put the envelope into his 
 handsome travelling-bag. The veneering of civi- 
 lization had made the Cherokees a more agreeable 
 people to their white neighbors; but there were 
 malicious persons who said that in the privacy of 
 the Cherokee houses there were Bluebeard cup- 
 boards, where all trophies were carefully preserved; 
 and that there were still some nicely dried scalps 
 of white men, even in Satana's mahogany ward- 
 robes, as trophies from the recent war. 
 
 The Cherokees often assured their pale-faced 
 brothers, " that although their skins were red, their 
 hearts were all white." But Docteur Canonge used 
 to shruo- his shoulders at that. He said, " AYhere 
 the blood remained unmixed, that their hearts were 
 as red as their faces.'' But then Docteur Canonge 
 was a very obstinate physiologist, and Docteur 
 Canonge also said, in speaking of the mustang or 
 Indian pony, " that it had improved upon its an- 
 cestor, the Andalusian barb, both in bottom, swift- 
 ness, and docility.'' Altogether Docteur Canonge 
 considered "a well-mounted Indian warrior, like 
 Satana, a formidable and unpleasant antagonist." 
 
 Mark and Panola made a large votive offering to 
 
260 PANOLA. 
 
 the Charity, when Mark took possession of uncle 
 Jacob's estate. 
 
 Panola srave a beautiful memorial window to the 
 church, where Victor and his little child and her 
 parents were buried. 
 
 " Mark," said Panola, " there is nothing so sad 
 to me as the failure of such a life as Victor's. He 
 never had justice done him by any of us. I did not 
 love him as much as I ought. Xatika, to whom 
 he save his truest devotion, did not love him. All 
 the women and all the men he knew disappointed 
 him, except grandpapa. The only humaa being 
 who really comprehended Victor and fully appre- 
 ciated him was mamma, and you know how that 
 was. She would not have died so ani^rv at him if 
 she had not loved him. I was not at all angry. I 
 was glad when he went away. Ah, there is nothing 
 of any value without love. I have had fame and 
 j^lenty of money, but love is the only thing of any 
 worth — love, whether it be in the forest or in the 
 palace." 
 
 !Mark stopped her mouth with a kiss. He ap- 
 23 roved of her logic, as well as of her practice. 
 Grandpapa Canouge still gives soirees, and he and 
 Madame Duplessis mere always lead the "cotillon," 
 and will continue to do so till thev are a century 
 old. 
 
 The sunshine falls brilliantly over the church- 
 yard. The marble tombs of Victor and Chicora 
 
THE CHEROKEE CHIEF. 261 
 
 are glitteringly white in the splendor of its light. 
 On the topmost bough of the oak tree, whose wav- 
 ing shadows chequer the graves, a mocking bird is 
 singing, "Sweetie, sweetie, Bob White, Bob White," 
 and it ends its cadence with the three notes of the 
 troopiall. It had learned its singing lesson during 
 the eventful years. In the depths of the oak bough, 
 its mate sits on a nest of young birds, and replies to 
 the bursts of music with a short cry of "Chic! chic! 
 chicora! chic! chic! chicora! chic! cJiic!'^ And 
 the young ones respond, *' chee-chee-squah," as they 
 stretch wide their yawning bills for the striped 
 caterpillars their parents gather up to feed them 
 "with. The early peas and the strawberries are de- 
 voured more freely than ever out of Docteur Can- 
 onge^s garden. The birds are still predatory as 
 Indians in their habits. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 ^^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers. Philadelphia, Pa. (1) 
 
2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S WORKS. 
 
 Green and G"ld E<jition. Crunph'U tn twelve volumes, in green morocco clofJi. 
 pHce. $1.75 each; or $21. UO a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 
 
 Ernest Linwood, $1 75 i Love after Marriage $1 75 
 
 The Planter's Nortiiern Bridu,.. 1 75 | Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 75 
 
 Courtship and Marriage 1 75 
 
 Rena; or. the Snow Bird, 1 75 
 
 Marcus Warland 1 75 
 
 The Lost Daughter 1 75 
 
 The Banished Son, 1 75 
 
 Helen and Arthur, ] 75 
 
 $1 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 
 75 
 
 Linda; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 75 
 
 Robert Graham; the Sequel to " Linda ; or Pilot of Belle Creole."... 1 75 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in papur cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 
 
 Hvery housekeeper s/ioutd //o^ex-s at least one of the follouing Cook Books, as thef 
 Would gave the price of it in a wetk's cooking. 
 
 The Queen of the Kitchen. Containing 1007 Old Maryland 
 
 Family Receipts for Cooking Cloth, 
 
 Miss Leslie"* New Cookery Bouk,.... Cloth, 
 
 Mrs. Hale's Xew Cook Book, Cloth, 
 
 Petersons' New Cook Book Cloth, 
 
 Widdifield's New Cook Book, Cloth, 
 
 Mrs. Goodfellow's Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 
 
 The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 
 
 The Young Wife's Cook Book Cloth, 
 
 Miss Leslie's New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 
 
 Mrs. Hale's Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 
 
 The Family Save- All. By author of "National Cook Book," Cloth, 
 Francatelli's Modern Cook. "With the most approved methods of 
 French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty-two 
 Illustrations. One volume of 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 
 
 JAMES A. MAITLAND'S WORKS. 
 
 Complete in seven large fhindfcimo rohimi's. bound in clofh. gill hack, price $1.75 
 each : or $12.25 a set, aich set is put up in a titul box. 
 
 The Watchman, SI 75 i D'.ary of an Old Doctor, $1 75 
 
 The Wanderer, 1 75 Sartaroe, 1 75 
 
 The Lawyer's Story 1 75 I The Three Cousins 1 75 
 
 The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in pa[ier cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE'S WORKS. 
 
 Cnmfleie in seven large duodecimo volumes, hound in clofh, gilt back, price $1.75 
 each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is jnit up in a neat box. 
 
 ■^he Sealed Packet, $1 7'> Dream Numbers, Si 75 
 
 Garstang Grange, 1 75 Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75 
 
 Leonora CasaLmi,... 1 75 | Gemma. 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in jjaper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 EREDRIKA BREIIER'S WORKS. 
 
 Complete in six large duoderimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt bak, price $1.75 eac^; 
 or $10.60 a set, each set if put up in a neat box. 
 
 Father and Daughter, $1 75 I The Neighbors, $1 75 
 
 The Four Sister*. 1 75iTheHome, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 Life in the Old AVorld. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 
 
 1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail PrLie, 
 \y T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelpliia, Pa. 
 
T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 3 
 
 MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY'S WORKS. 
 
 Complete in fourtfen large dnmieciino volumes, bottnd in mnrocco lAmh. gilt back, pricA 
 
 ' $1.75 f i--h ; or $24.o0 a set, each set is put tip in a neat lox. 
 A New W:iy to Win a Fortuue$l 75 
 
 The DiscarJed Wife, 1 75 
 
 The Clandestiue Marriage 1 75 
 
 The Hidden Sin 1 75 
 
 The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 
 
 The Gipsy's Warning, 1 75 
 
 All Fur Love, 1 75 
 
 Why Did He Marry llcr ? $1 75 
 
 Who Shall be Victor? 1 75 
 
 The Mysterious Guest, 1 75 
 
 Was He Guilty? 1 75 
 
 The Ciincelled Will, 1 75 
 
 The Planter's Daughter, 1 75 
 
 Michael Rudolph, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 EMERSON BENNETT'S WORKS. 
 
 Ormphte in seven larg-' duo'lecimo volumes, hmind in clolh, gill hacJc, jji-ict $1.75 
 mch ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a, neat hex. 
 
 The Border Rover, $1 75 I Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 
 
 Clara Moreland, 1 75 i Ellen Norbury, I 75 
 
 The Orphan's Trials, I 75 ' Kate Clarendon, 1 75 
 
 Viola: or A'lventures in the Far South-West, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.51) each. 
 The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer's Daughter, 75 
 
 D0ESTICK3' WORKS. 
 
 complete in four large dwyhcunn volumes, bound in cloth, gilt bad; price $1.T5 
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 Doesticks' Letters, $1 75 I The Elephant Club, $1 75 
 
 Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah 1 75 1 Witches of New York, 1 75 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each oce is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 GREEN'S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 
 
 Cbmplete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in doth, gilt back, price $1.75 
 each; or ST.UO a set, each set is imt up in a neat box. 
 
 Gambling Exposed $1 75 i Reformed Gambler ?1 75 
 
 The GanTbler's Life 1 75 [ Secret Band of Brother^* 1 75 
 
 Above arc each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 DOW'S PATENT SERMONS. 
 
 Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
 each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 
 
 Dow's Patent Sermons, 1st , Dow's Patent Sermons, 3d 
 Series, cloth, $1 50 j Series, cloth, $1 50 
 
 Dow's Patent Sermons, 2d Dow's Patent Sermons, 4th 
 
 Series, cloth 1 50 1 Series, cloth ^ 1 50 
 
 Above are each in doth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 
 
 WILKIE COLLINS' BEST WORKS. 
 
 Basil; or. The Crossed Path..$l 50 | The Dead Secret. 12mo SI 50 
 
 Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in eloth. 
 
 The Dead Secret, 8vo 50 
 
 Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 
 
 Hide and Seek, 75 
 
 After Dark 75 
 
 The Queen's Revenge, 75 
 
 Miss or Mrs? 50 
 
 Mad Monkton, 50 
 
 Sights a-Foot, 50 
 
 The Stolen Mask 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 26 
 
 The above hooks are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 
 
 FRANK FORRESTER'S SPORTING BOOK. 
 
 Prank Forrester's Sporting Scenes and Charncters. By Henry Wil- 
 liam Herbert. With Illustrations by Darley. Two vols., cloth,. ..$4 00 
 
 « • » » » 
 
 Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
4 T. B. PETEESOIT & BUOTHERS' PTTBLICATIOIIS. 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTKOBS. 
 
 The folioiciiKj books are each inmitd in one larye. dnodev'nun volume^ 
 hoiiitd in cloth, at !?1.7d each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautphceu?, $1 75 
 
 Married Beneath Him. By author of '* Lost Sir Massinj^berd," ] To 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. By author of '' Married Beneath Him," 1 75 
 
 The Ciyfifards of Clytfe, by author of "Lost Sir Massingberd," 1 75 
 
 Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of "Zaidee," 1 75 
 
 Family Pride. By author of " Pique," " Family Secrets," etc 1 75 
 
 '^elf-Sacrifice. By author of " Margaret Maitland." etc 1 75 
 
 The Woman in Black. A Companion to the ''Woman in White/' ... 1 75 
 
 A Woman's Thoughts about Women. By Miss Muloch, 1 75 
 
 Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinchiir, 1 75 
 
 False Pride; or. Two Ways to Matrimony. A Charming Book, 1 75 
 
 Rose Douglas. A Companion to " Family Pride," and ** Self Sacrifice," 1 75 
 Family Secrets. A Companion to "Family Pride," and "Pique,"... 1 75 
 
 Tiie Heiress in the Family. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniel, 1 75 
 
 Popery Exposed, ^n Exposition of Popery as it was and is, 1 75 
 
 The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Charming Novel, 1 75 
 
 A'i'oman's Wrong. By Mrs. Eiloart, author of "St. Bede's," 1 75 
 
 The Autobiographj' of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 
 
 A Lonely Life. By the author of " Wise as a Serpent," etc 1 75 
 
 The Macdermots of Ballycloran. By Anthony Trollope, 1 75 
 
 The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to "Linda," 1 75 
 
 Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 
 
 Tne Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 
 
 "My Son's Wife. By author of " Caste," " Mr. Arle," etc 1 75 
 
 J"ne Rich Husband. By author of " George Gcith," 1 75 
 
 Hiirem Lite in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emuieliue Lott....... 1 75 
 
 The Rector's Wife; or, the Valley of a Hundred Fires, 1 75 
 
 Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, 1 75 
 
 Country Quarters. By the Countess of Blessington, 1 75 
 
 "^utof the Depths. The Story of a "'Woman's Life," T 75 
 
 The Devoted Bride. A Story of the Heart. By St. George Tucker, 1 75 
 
 The Coquette: or, the Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton, 1 75 
 
 The Pride of Life. A Story of the Heart. By Lady Jane Scott,.... 1 75 
 
 T'le Lust Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 
 
 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 
 
 Tne Quaker Soldif^r. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
 The Man of the World. An Autobiography. By William North,... 1 75 
 The Queen's Favorite : or, The Price of a Crown. A Love Story,... 1 75 
 
 vSelf Love: or, The Afternoon of Single and Married Life, 1 75 
 
 Memoirs of Vidoeq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 
 Camors. "The Man of the Second Empire." By Octave Feuillet,.. 1 75 
 The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
 Cora Belmont; or. The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the H -art.. 1 75 
 The Lover's Trials; or Da3's befo'-e 1776. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison, 1 75 
 High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lnsselle, 1 75 
 
 Tlie Beautiful Widow; oi*, Lodore. By Mrs. Percy B. Shelley, 1 75 
 
 Love and Money. By J. B. Jonps, author of the " Rival Belies,"... 1 75 
 The Matchmaker. A Story of High Life. By Beatrice Reynolds,.. ] 75 
 The Brother's Secret; or, the Count De Mara. By William (iodwin, 1 75 
 Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illustrated.... 1 75 
 Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Men. Manners and Tempo- 
 ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century. 1 75 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at §1.50 each. 
 
 1^" Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Pric*, 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHEES' PUBLICATIONS. 5 
 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 Tlie jolloiciiiy books are tavh jfinucd in one larye daodtvinio volume, 
 lomitl in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover at $1.50 each. 
 
 Tlie Count of Munte-Cri^to. By Alexander Dumas. Illuttr:ittMl,...§l 75 
 
 The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $l.t'U : or cloth,.. 1 75 
 
 Camille: or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Duuias, 1 75 
 
 The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant. author of " Margaret Maitlaud," 1 75 
 
 The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Romun Story, 1 75 
 
 The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty 1 75 
 
 The Rival Belles," or, Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 
 
 Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback, author of '' ^Lny and Deoeriiber," 1 75 
 
 Wild Sports and Adventures iu Africa. By Maj<jr W. C. Harris, 1 75 
 
 Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 75 
 
 The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 
 
 QMie Refugee. By Herman Melville, author of "Omoo," ■' Typee," 1 75 
 
 The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late '• Fanny Fern," 1 75 
 
 Tile Life and Lectures of Lola Moutez, with her portrait, 1 75 
 
 Wild Southern Scenes. By author of "Wild Western Scenes,'" 1 75 
 
 Currer Lyle; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 75 
 
 The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 
 
 The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey. 1 75 
 
 Lizzie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 75 
 
 Lady Maud ; or, the Wonder of King-wood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 
 
 Wilfred Montressor ; or. High Life in Kew York. Illustrated, 1 75 
 
 The Old Stone Mansion. By C. J. Peterson, author •' Kate Aylesford," 1 75 
 
 Kate Aylesford. By Chas. J. Peterson, author " Old Stone Mansion,". 1 75 
 
 Lorrimer Littlegood, bj' author '• Harry Coverdale's Courtship," 1 75 
 
 The Earl's Secret. A Love Story. By Miss Pardoe, 1 75 
 
 The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe. author of "The Earl's Secret," 1 75 
 
 Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 75 
 
 Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B, Jones, 1 75 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1 .50 each. 
 
 The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author " The Crossed Path,"... 
 
 The Crossed Path; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, 
 
 Indiana. A Love Story. By George Sand, author of " Consuelo," 
 Jealf)usy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author of " Consuelo," etc. 
 
 50 
 50 
 50 
 50 
 
 Six Kights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated. By T. S. Arthur, 3 50 
 
 BOOKS FOR PRIVATE STUDY AND SCHOOLS. 
 
 The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
 Prose, designed for the use of Colleges, Schools. Seminaries. Literary 
 Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages. .S2 00 
 
 Coinstock's Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
 Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
 Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By An- 
 drew Comstock and Philip Lawrence. With 236 Illustrations 2 00 
 
 The French, German, Spanish. Latin and Italian Languages Without 
 a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 
 without a Teacher. By A. H. Monteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 
 
 Comstofk's Coloied Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the Eng- 
 lish Language, Graphic and Typic, with exercises in Pitch, Force 
 and Gesture, and Sixty-Eight colored figures, representing the va- 
 rious postures and different attitudes to be u?ed in declamation. 
 On a large Roller. Every School should have a copy of it 5 01 
 
 Liebig's Complete Works on Chemistry. By Baron Justus Licbig... 2 16 
 
 1^^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
6 T. B. PETERSOIT & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 Tlie following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
 hound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., $1 75 
 
 The Cuiiscripi ; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Duiuas, 1 75 
 
 Cousin Hany. By Mrs. <irey, author of '• The Gambler's Wife," etc. 1 75 
 
 Saratoga. An Inilian Tale of Frontier Life. A true Story of 1787,.- 1 75 
 
 Married at Last. A Love Story. Bv Annie Ttiouia«, 1 75 
 
 Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of '• Days of Shoddy," 1 75 
 
 Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Straps," 1 75 
 
 The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of '' Shoulder Straps," 1 75 
 
 The Cavalier. By G. P. R.James, author of "Lord Montagu's Page," 1 75 
 
 Lord Montagu's Page. By G. P. R. J.imes, author of "Cavalier,''... 1 75 
 
 Mrs. Emma D. E. X. Southworth's Popular Novels. 42 vols, in all, 73 50 
 
 Mrs. Ann S. Stephens' Celebrated Novels. 22 volumes in all, 38 50 
 
 Mrs. C. A. Warfield's Works. Nine volumes in all, 15 75 
 
 Miss Eliza A. Dupuy's Works. Fourteen volumes in all, 24 50 
 
 Mi's. Caroline Lee Hentz's Novels. Twelve volumes in all 21 00 
 
 Frederika Bremer's Novels. Six volumes in all, 10 60 
 
 T. A. TroUope's AVorks. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 James A. Maitland's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 Q. K. Philander Doestick's Novels. Four volumes in all, 7 03 
 
 Cook Books. The best in the ATorld. Eleven volumes in all, 19 25 
 
 Mrs. Henry Wood's Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 
 
 Emerson Bennett's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 Green's Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all 7 09 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each, 
 
 Tlie foUoicing hooJcs are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in 
 cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done iqi in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 The AVandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $2 00 
 
 Mysteries of Paris: and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 2 00 
 
 Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 
 
 Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. W^ith Illustrations,.... 2 00 
 
 Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard 2 00 
 
 The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 
 
 Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 
 
 Paul Ardenheira ; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
 
 The Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 50 
 
 Above books ai e each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 Tlie following arp^ each issued in one liroe octavo volume, hoimd in cloth, price |2.00 
 each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at 75 ceiits each. 
 
 Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever Cloth, $2 00 
 
 Harry Lorrequer. With his Concessions. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lover, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever,... Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever Cloth, 2 00 
 
 The Knieht of Gwvnne. Bv Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Arthur O'Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever,. Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Kate O'Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Valentine Vox, the Vcntriloo^uist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 
 
 I^° Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pricej 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelpliia, Pa. 
 
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 7 
 NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 Beautiful Snow, and Olher Pucms. Nlw Jl/ustrattd Edition. By J. 
 \V. Watson. With Illu^trations by E. L. Henry. One volume, green 
 morocco cloth, gilt top. side, and back, price $2.00; or in maroon 
 
 morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., $3 0© 
 
 The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watsun. One volume, 
 green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00 ; or in ma- 
 roon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, ... 3 00 
 
 The Young .Magdalen; and Other Poems. By Francis S. Smith, 
 editor of '' The New York Weekly." With a portrait of the author. 
 Complete in one large volume of 300 pages, bound in green mo- 
 rocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $3.U0; or in maroon 
 morocco cloth, full gilt ed-es, full gilt b.ick, full gilt sides, etc...... 4 Ot» 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Vohmtc One. Con- 
 taining the " Fimt," ''Second," and " Third Serien" cf the " Breit- 
 maun BiHnd*," bound in morocco clolh, gilt, beveled boards, 3 00 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles U. Leland. Vo/ume Two. 
 Containing the "Fourth" and ''Fifth Serien" of the " Breitmann 
 Ballads." bound in morofco cloth, gilt, beveled boards 2 00 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Being the above 
 two volumes complete in one. In one large volume, bound in 
 morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top, and full gilt back, with beveled 
 boards. With a full and c unplete Glossary to the whole work 4 00 
 
 Meister Karl's Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland, (Hans Breit- 
 m inn.) Complete in one volume, green morocco cloth, gilt side, 
 gilt top. gilt back, with beveled boards, price S2 50, or in maroon 
 morocco cloch,full gilt edges, full gilt i)aek. full gilt sides, etc 3 50 
 
 Historical Sketches of Plymouth. Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 
 B. Wright, of Wilkesbirre. With Twenty-five PhotO'^raphs 4 00 
 
 John Jasp'ir's Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens' *' Mystery of 
 
 Edwin Drood." With 18 Illustrations. Bound in cloth, 2 00 
 
 The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Vietnr Rydborg. Highly 
 recn-ninended by Fre^lrika Bremer. Paper SI. 50, or in cloth, 2 00 
 
 Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland. Germany, 
 It ily, and England. By C. H. Haeseler, M.D. Bound in cloth.... 2 00 
 
 The Ladies" Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Mnnners. By 
 
 Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back.... 1 75 
 
 The Ladies' Complete Gui le to Nee'llework and Embrni.lery. With 
 113 illustr:itions. By Miss Lambert. Clotli, full gilt back 1 75 
 
 The Ladies' Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 
 
 The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, paper Si. 00. or cloth.... 1 50 
 
 Dow's Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, .Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 50 
 
 Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicv Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,.., 1 50 
 
 Aunt Patty's Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. author of 
 " Linda." etc. Full of Illustrations, and bound in cloth 1 50 
 
 Hollick's Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Figure. Illustrated 
 by a perfect dissected plate of the llutnnn Organization, and by 
 other separate plates of the Human Skeleton, such as Arteries, 
 Veins, the Heart, Lung>!, Trachea, etc. Illustrated. Bound, 2 00 
 
 Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho P.mza, 
 
 complete in one larije volume, pnper cover, for $1.00, or in cloth,.. 1 75 
 
 The Laws and Practice of the G;iine of Euchre, as adopted by the 
 EiK'hre Club of Washington, D. C. Bound in cloth, 1 00 
 
 Ridl-H's Model Architect. With 22 hirge full pa^e colored illus- 
 trations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, specifications, 
 costs of building, etc. One large quarto volume, bound $15 08 
 
 • » ♦ 
 
 1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pria^ 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothors, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
P* E nr E F? SONS' 
 
 mim SERIES' OF NEW & GOOD BOOKS. 
 
 THEY ARE THE CHE.\PEST NOVELS IN THE WORLD. 
 Price $1.00 each In morocco cloth ; or 75 cents each in paper cover. 
 
 ^Ei^aa 
 
 "PETERSONS' STERLING SERIES'' OF NEW AND GOOD BOOKS, 
 
 are each issued in one large octavo volume, all of one size, and in uniform style, and 
 are meeting with great succef^s, as the serifs contain some of the best and most popular 
 newels ever issued. TJie volumes are handy to hold, and are bound in liandsnme 
 Morocco cloth, with Utif designs, in gold and bla-k, on side and back, and each book 
 is sold at the uniform awl remarkably low price of One Dollar a copt in this style, 
 or in paper covers, trifk the edges cut open all round, at Sevextt-five cents a copy. 
 Here is cheapness and a great deal of good reading matter combined, which is what all 
 persons vjint these times, for each volume issued in " Petersons' Sterling Seriks" 
 contains as much reading matter as is usually issued in a $1.50, $1.75, or $2.00 volume. 
 
 PEIEKSOXS' 'STEELING SERIES' OF GOOD KOVELS JUST EEADL 
 
 T/iey are t7ie C?ieapest JVovels m the World, 
 Price $1.00 each in morocco cloth; or 75 cents each in paper corer. 
 
 The following works have already been issued in this series, and a netv one willfoU 
 Into every two loeeks in the same style, same size, and at the same low price, making 
 tfiis sa'ies of novels the cheapest ever published. The following are theii* names: 
 
 CHARLES O'MALLEY, The Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
 
 CYKIIjL A. A Love Story. By author of '■ The Inirials." 
 
 THE ELIRT. By Mrs. Grey, author of " The Gambler's Wife." 
 
 EDIiKT A. A Love Storj'. By :Mr3. Henry Wood. 
 
 HASSY LOKREQUER. With His Confessions. By Charles Lever. 
 
 AURORA FLOYD. A Love Story. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
 
 CORINNE ; or, ITALY. By Madame De StaeL 
 
 POPPIJNTG THE QUESTION. By author of " The Jilt." 
 
 FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. By George Sand. 
 
 THE COQUETTE. A Channing Love Story. By author of " Misserimus." 
 
 THE MYSTERY. A Love Story. By Mi-s. Henry Wood. 
 
 THE MAN WITH FIVE "WIVES. By Alexander Dumas. 
 
 •PHE JEALOUS WIFE. By Miss Julia Pardee. 
 
 THACKERAY'S IRISH SKETCH BOOK. Illustrated. 
 
 THE WIPE'S TRIALS. A Love Story. By ,Miss JuUa Pardoe. 
 
 PICKWICK ABROAD. Illustrated. By George W. M- Eeynolds. 
 
 THE DEAD SECRET. By Wilkie Collins. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OP A PRETTY WOMAN. By Mss Pardoe. 
 
 SYLVESTER SOUND. By author of '^ Valentine Vox." 
 
 BASIL ; or. The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins 
 
 THE RIVAL BEAUTIES. By Miss JuUa Pardoe. 
 
 THE STEWARD. By author of " Valentine Vox." 
 
 MARRYING FOR MONEY. By Mrs. Ma<:kenzie Daniels. 
 
 THE LOVE MATCH. A Love Story. By Henry Cockton 
 
 FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; or. High Life in New York. 
 
 WHITEFRIARS ; or. The Days of Charles the Second. 
 
 HIDE AND SEEK. A Noveh By Wilkie Cllins. 
 
 45=" The above books are 75 cents each in paper cover, or Sl.OO each in cloth. 
 
 J^^ Above books are for sale by all Boqkselkrs, or copies of any one, or more, or 
 ail of ilicm, vjill be sent, ]iost-paid, to any on^., to any place, on remi'ing tlieir price t» 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTI^ERS, Publishers, 
 
 S06 Chestnut Utreet, Jfhiladclphiaf Pa, 
 
PETERSONS' 
 
 'OOLLIIR SEBIE5' OF M iO GOOO NOilELS 
 
 AHE THE CHEAPEST BOOKS IN THE WORLD. 
 
 Eacli are in one Volume, in Red or Blue Vellum, Gold and BlacL — Price $1.00 each. 
 
 Rnmd'hing entirfih/ nno in literature is a series of choice works of jictinn novy piib- 
 lishiny by T. B. I\ trso/i d: Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa., under tlie title of ^^ Pf.tf.rsoss* 
 DoLi.Aii sf£RiES OF GoojJ ±iovELS," and wldch are selling at a much loiver price than 
 such books have ever be/are been published at in America. Every volume in the series 
 will be in duodecimo form, and camplete in itself, and each one of them will contain, 
 as much reading matter as is gen.roVy given in a Sl.75 or §2.00 book. A very 
 eh'oant binding in red or blue vellum, embossed with black and gold, has been 
 specially designed for " Petersons* Dollar Series of Good i^ovels," and their low pric& 
 and a'traclivfness are commanding for them a very large sale, as they are the cheapest 
 and most beautiful series of books at the price ever published, 
 
 EEimS "DOllAE SEMES" OF GOOD SOVEIS JUST EEAM. 
 
 77tejy are the Cheapest Sooks in the World, 
 
 Price $1.00 each, bonnd in Eed or Blue VellTun Clotli, Gold and Black. 
 
 The following books have already been issued in this series, and a netv one will be 
 published every month, in the same style, same size, and at the same low price, making 
 this series of novels the cheapest ever published. The following are their names: 
 
 COUNTRY QITAKTERS. A Charming Love Storr. "By the Countesg 
 of Blessinytou. Being tlie liidt volume of " Pi:^tei-.M)n6' Dollar Series of Guoii 
 Novels." Bouud in blue vellum cloth, embossed with black aud gold. 
 
 MY SON'S "WIFE. A book of books, and a strong, bright, interesting, and 
 woil-writtea novel. By the author of " Caste." Being the second voUiiue of" l^etor- 
 Bous' Dollar Series of Good Novels." Bouud iu red vellum cloth, gold and black. 
 
 THE HEIRESS IN THE FAMILY. By Mrs. Mackenzie DaniH.,, 
 autiior of "Marrying for Money." Being the third volume of " L'etersous' Dollar 
 Series of Good Novels." Bouud in blue vellum cloth, gold aud black. 
 
 SARATOGA. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life, and a True Tictnre of Saratoga 
 as it was in ITS'. By .1 noted American Author. Being the fourth volume of '" l^eter- 
 Bons' Dollar ISeries of Good Novels." Louud iu red vellum cloth, gold aud black. 
 
 SELF-LOVE ; or. The Afternoon of Single Life, Prosiiects in 
 
 Middle Age, Love, Hop*-, and biMg!_^ and Mai ried Life coiitni^tcd. Bein;; tlio tiftU 
 volume of "Petersons' Dollar Series of Good Novels." Bouud iu blue vellum cloth, 
 embossed with black aud gold. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE "WORLD. By William North. For purenesa 
 of style, elegance of diction, and force of thought, this work has seldom, if ever, 
 been siiqiassed. Being the sixth volume of '" Petersons' Dollar Seried of Good 
 Novels." Bound iu red vellum cloth, gold and black. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S FAVORITE -, or. The Price of a Crown. An 
 
 Historical Ilumance of the K'^ign of King Dm .Juan, in the Fifteenth Century. 
 Being the seventh volume of '• I'etersouo' Dollar Series of Good >i'o\els." Bouud in 
 blue vellum cloth, gold aud black. 
 
 THE CAVALIER. An TlistonVa! XovpI. By G. P. R. James, author of 
 "Lord ^Montagu's Page," "The ]\]an in Black."' cte. l?oing tin? ei.:.dith voiuiiio of 
 *' Petensous' Dollar Series of Go xi Novels." Bound in blue vellum, gold aud biaik. 
 
 I^" Above books are bound in Red or Blue Vellum, Gold and Black, pi-icc $1.0^ each. 
 
 e^Jhnve hnoJcs are for sale by all BonkseUrrs, or copies of any one, or mnr", or 
 all of Ihcii, will be svnt, post-paid, to any one, tu any place, on rtmiiLing their pni^c to 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 SOG Chestnut Street, I'hiladelphta, Pa. 
 
MRS. SARAH A. DORSET'S WORKS. 
 
 Each Work is complete in one large Tolame. 
 
 PANOLA. A Tale of Loiu'itiana. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey, 
 aurhor of "Agues Graham," "Athalie," " Lucia Dare," etc. Com- 
 plete iu oue large duodecioio volume, black and gold, price Sl.oO. 
 
 "Panola" will bo fund to l.e a work of great ruerit, dealing with scenes and 
 cbaracters n<>t often found in fiction. It is 8en»ati"n;il, tbimgli a romante of real 
 life. Tbe scene and action are partly in Lonisiaua and partlj in Paris The charac- 
 ters are well drawn, and the incidents, tlioiiL^h ponielinies startling, never p)a-5d the 
 line of pro) lability, f.)r Mrs Porsoy, the anihur, is a puh^hed scholar auJ a gmcctul 
 Wiiler. The following gives the heads of each chapter in the work: 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 JN THE ATTAKAPAS. 
 THE HFROI.NE 
 A FAMILY Gr.OrP. 
 ACTED CHAR.M)ES. 
 KATJKA JACQVi.MlV. 
 CHEROKEE JOE SUSP-CTS. 
 WUCH-MARKIED LIZCCTIE. 
 A GER.-MAN NATfRALlST. 
 MONSIEUR LE IiOtTECa. 
 A VERY WOMVN. 
 
 corsi.NS' GOSSIP, 
 
 CiilCORA'S FAWN. 
 
 A SAG!.'S PIIILOSOPHT. 
 
 TUE ASTROXOMiCAL CALCULATION. 
 
 TUE STORY OF ODIX. 
 
 lOrz WILL RULE. 
 
 HOT SPUIXr.S OF ARKANSAS. 
 
 IN THE DARK TI'ifRS. 
 
 W ART. I ED IN HASTE. 
 
 PASSING AWAT. 
 
 CIlICoaA'S DEATH, 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF tOVE. 
 
 MADAME Billing's flowers. 
 
 A SfCCLSSFfL DEEfTAXTi;. 
 
 A SEVENTEENTH CEXIUUY POISON. 
 
 TRAGIC RET.llBfTION. 
 
 PAXOLA IN PARIS. 
 
 VlfTOi'i'S DEATH. 
 
 LOVES MIRACLE. 
 
 THc: CHEROKEE CHIEF. 
 
 Read the foUowinj nnficu of '■^ Panola,"' wrillen by Dr. Mickcnzi', Literary Editor 
 of F'Htvy's Daily Pre^s, who read the work in manuscript. 
 
 "Panol\," a Tale of Lonisiana, is from the pen of Mrs Sarah A. Porsey, a tal- 
 piited and highly edncated lady, distingui-hed in biography and romance. 1 he 
 story is very jicculi.ir, and strikingly original, in it.s philosophy, its iiidividuality 
 of characters, and the successive steps in the narrative by which the action culmi- 
 nates in a very striking and most xiuexpected, though highly satisfactory cunclu- 
 Bion. Life in th" s 'Uih-western part of Louisiana is represented with a brilliancy 
 of descrijvtion which, indeed, is word-j'ainting of the mo.--t artistical order. Al- 
 thotigli Panola, a bright and lovely child of genius, Avho is a natural mnsi- 
 ciau. is tht' principal heroine — a veritable frimt. li'i/ni i'l more ways than one — 
 there is a rival, scarcely less beautiiul if somewhat less e.xcellent. There are 
 two lovers, to maintain the balance — but the best of these has unfortunately lost 
 the use of his limb.5 — like the young King of the Ulack Islands, of the Arabian tale, 
 who was half man nnil half marble. Under such circumstances, this gentleman 
 would scarcely have his name written, by a fashionable mother, on the list of "eli- 
 gible" candidates for her fair daughter's hand! Nevertheless, he does contrive 
 to marry the '' ladye of his love," t) the perfect satisfaction of both, though the 
 preliminary miracle which enabled this to be done is to be found only in the closing 
 chapters of the story. Panola has Cherokee blood in her veins, and some of her 
 race prove, in this story, that they indeed are " Children of the Sun with whom Re- 
 veut;e is viitue." The book abounds in interest — marriage, divorce, a great mu- 
 BJcian's debii' and triumph, the alternations of various und conllictiug passions — 
 death by poison, and the already hinted punishment of the ciimiaal. 
 
 MRS. SACVn A. DORSET'S OTHER T\ORES. 
 
 AGNES GRAHAM. A Novel. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. 
 Oue volume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Ceuts. 
 
 ATHALIE. "A Winter's T'de.'' By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. 
 One volume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Ceuts. 
 
 LUCL\ DARE. A Novel. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Oue vol- 
 ume, octavo, paper cover, price Sixty Ceuts. 
 
 ^:^^ Above hooks are for sale h\j all Booksellers and JVcws Agents, 
 or copies will he sent to any one, to any place, 2wstitf/e pre-paid, on 
 remiltinj the price of the ones wanted, in a l^ler, to the publishers, 
 
 T. B. PETERSOX ct BROTHERS, 
 
 306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 366