A negro, who seemed to understand Spanish only, responded to my inquiries by removing a pipe from his lips, and pointing the cane-stem thereof toward a building that made a dark red stain against the green distance—with the words: "Casa de correo ?—si, señor! directamente detras del campo, senor;—sigue el camino carretero à la casa colorada."
So I crossed plains thickly grown with a sturdy green weed bearing small yellow flowers, and traversed plank-bridges laid over creeks in which I saw cats fishing and swimming—actually swimming, for even the feline race loses its dread of water here;—and I followed a curving roadway half obliterated by wire- grass—until I found myself at last within a small farmyard, where cords of wood were piled up about an antique, gabled, chocolate-colored building that stood in the midst. I walked half around it, seeking for the entrance,—hearing only the sound of children's voices, and a baby's laughter; and finally came in front of an open gallery on the southern side, where a group of Creole children were,—two pretty blond infants, with an elder and darker sister. Seated in a rocking-chair, her infant
