asked her what she was doing. “Oh, this book,” said she; “I turn and I turn over its leaves, and wish that I understood what is on them. I try and try; I should be so happy if I could read, but I cannot.”
We are approaching New Orleans, “that gay city.” In a couple of hours we shall be there. All the animals in Noah's Ark make themselves heard.
Far in the South, but without sun, at least for the present. It shone brightly, however, as we arrived at the Crescent city, which in the form of a half-moon stands upon a broad tongue of land between the Mississippi and Lake Pontchartrain, into which great inland-sea the waters of the Gulf of Mexico enter.
No less than three steamers had been blown up a short time before our arrival, one of them was quite new, and was out on an expedition of pleasure with several of the most wealthy people of New Orleans on board. Many of these were very severely hurt, and two killed.
Our Noah's Ark however has borne us and all the animals safely to land.
The harbour which we entered was beautiful and inviting in its crescent form; but the roadstead was bad, and the quay, which was of wood, ill-built.
On the arm of my faithful cavalier, Lerner H., I went on shore, and up to a magnificent building resembling the Pantheon at Rome, shining out white with its splendid columns, not of marble, but of stucco. This was the Hotel St. Charles, and here we at first took up our quarters.
But when I found that for a cold little room with an immense bed up three pair of stairs, with the privilege of the great saloon, where I would not go if I could help it, and the privilege of eating a variety of meals which I could not eat without making myself ill, and at hours that
