Strange True Stories of Louisiana

. James, St. John the Baptist, and St. Charles. It was very far from us, at the ex

e was only one paper, French and Spanish, published in New Orleans-"The Gazette."[9] To send to the post-office was an affair of state.

hildren," said my father, "

ot to find ourselves on our journey without traveling-dresses, new neckerchiefs, and a number of things. In vain did poor papa endeavor to explain that

ws. Ah! in those times if the planter wished to live well he had to raise everything himself, and the poultry yard and the dairy were something curious to see. Dozens of slaves were kept busy in them constantly. When my mother had raised two thousand chickens, besides turkeys, ducks, geese, guinea-fowls, and pea-fowls, she said she had lost her crop.[10] And the quantity

ed in the back with gold and trimmed on the front with several rows of gilt buttons. The sleeves stopped at the elbows and were trimmed with lace. Now, my daughter, do you know what camayeu was? You now sometimes see an imitation of it in door and window curtains. It was a stuff of great fineness, yet resembling not a little the unbleached cotton of to-day, and over which were spread very brilliant designs of prodigious size. For example, Suzanne's petticoat showed bunches of great radishes-not the short kind-surrounded by long, green leaves and tied with a yellow

the jacket coming up high and with long sleeves,-a sunbonnet of cirsacas, blue stoc

to serve. She was an excellent cook and washer, and, what we still more prized, a lady's maid and hairdresser of the first order. My sist

r so genteel; but the Irish woman! Ah! grand Dieu! she puts me in mind of a sold

at sent her forward. The room in the stern, surrounded by a sort of balcony, which Monsieur Carpentier himself had made, belonged to him and his wife; then came ours, then that of Celeste and her family, and the one at the bow was the Irishwoman's. Carlo and Gordon had crammed the provisions, tools, carts, and plows into the corners of their respective apartments. In the room which our father was to share

only called "Maggie" by her husband and "Maw" by her son Patrick. She was seated on a coil of rope, her son on the boards at her feet. An enormous dog crouched beside them, with his head against Maggie's knee. The mother and son were surprisingly clean. Maggie had on a simple brown calico dress and an apron of blue ticking. A big red kerchief was crossed on her breast and its twin brother covered her well combed and greased black hair. On her feet were blue stockings and heavy leather

he was burning to see the arrival of her whom we had f

gives that smile, all her own,-to which, says Fran?oise, all flesh invariably surrendered,-and so became dumbly acquainted; whil

her at first glance for a child of ten years. Suzanne and I had risen quickly and came and leaned over the balustrade. To my mortification my sister had passed one arm around the

arranged her toilet. That toilet, very simple to the eyes of Madame Carpentier, was

f gray and blue; and as the weather was a little cool that morning, she had exchanged the unfailing casaquin for a sort of camail to match the dress, and trimmed, like the capotte, with a line of white fur. Her petticoat was very short, lightly puffed on the sides, an

diste. Who knows?"

them, but said that they sold for their weight in gold in Paris, and she had not dared import them, for fear she could not sell them in Louisiana. A

disposition of his associates. He explained to Mario his delay, caused by the difficulty of finding a carriage; at which Carlo lifted his shoulders and grimaced. J

ere seen on one side Carlo and his son Celestino, or 'Tino, and on the other Joseph

. For "Gazette" read "Moniteur"; "The Gaz

s constrained to say tha