"Well, I'll tell you; it's because it brings U and I so near together."

“Hah! exclaims Madame Beausoleil, warningly, yet with sunshine and cloud on her brow at once. She likes her companion's wit, always so deep, and yet always so delicately pointed! His hearty laugh just now disturbs her somewhat, but they are out on the wide plain again, without a spot in all the sweep of her glance where an eye or an ear may ambush them or their walking horses.

"No," insists her fellow-traveller; "I say again, as I said before, the A. of U. I.' - he pauses at the initials, and Zoséphine's faint smile gives him ecstasy

"hasn't done its best. And yet it has done beautifully! Why, when did you ever see such a list as this?" He dexterously draws from an extensive inner breast-pocket, such as no coat but a book-agent's or a shoplifter's would be guilty of, a wide, limp, morocco· bound subscription-book. "Here!" He throws it open upon the broad Texas pommel. "Now, just for curiosity, look at it-oh! you can't see it from away off there, looking at it sideways!" He gives her a half-reproachful, half-beseeching smile and glance, and gathers up his dropped bridle. They come closer. Their two near shoulders approach each other, the two elbows touch, and two dissimilar hands hold down the leaves. The two horses playfully bite at each other; it is their way of winking one eye.

"Now, first, here's the governor's name; and then his son's, and his nephew's, and his other son's, and his cousin's. And here's Pierre Cormeaux, and Bap

tiste Clément, you know, at Carancro; and here's Basilide Sexnailder, and Joseph Cantrelle, and Jacques Hébert; see? And Gaudin, and Laprade, Blouin, and Roussel, old Christofle Roussel of Beau Bassin, Duhon, Roman and Simonette Le Blanc, and Jude Landry, and Thériot, Colonel Thériot, Martin, Hébert again, Robichaux, Mouton, Mouton again, Robichaux again, Mouton-oh, I've got 'em all! Castille, Beausoleil - cousin of yours? Yes, he said so; good fellow, thinks you're the greatest woman alive." The two dissimilar hands, in turning a leaf, touch, and the smaller one leaves the book. "And here's Guilbeau, and Latiolais, and Thibodeaux, and Soudrie, and Arcenaux-flowers of the community'I gather them in,' and here's a page of Côte Gelée people, and Joe Jefferson hadn't got back to the Island yet, but I've got his son; see? And here's can you make out this signature? It's written so

small"

Both heads, with only the heavens and the dear old earth-mother to see them, - both heads bend over the book; the hand that had retreated returns, but bethinks itself and withdraws again; the eyes of Mr. Tarbox look across their corners at the sedate brow so much nearer his than ever it has been before, until that brow feels the look, and slowly draws away. Look to your mother, Marguerite; look to her! But Marguerite is not there, not even in Vermilionville; nor yet in Lafayette parish; nor anywhere throughout the wide prairies of Opelousas or Attakapas. Triumph fills Mr. Tarbox's breast.

66

"Well," he says, restoring the book to its hidingplace, seems like I ought to be satisfied with that; doesn't it to you?"

It does; Zoséphine says so. She sees the double meaning, and Mr. Tarbox sees that she sees it, but must still move cautiously. So he says:

"Well, I'm not satisfied.

It's perfect as far as it goes, but don't expect me to be satisfied with it. If I've seemed satisfied, shall I tell you why it was, my dear friend?"

Zoséphine makes no reply; but her dark eyes meeting his for a moment, and then falling to her horse's feet, seem to beg for mercy.

"It's because," says Mr. Tarbox, while her heart stands still, "it's because I've made

awful pause 66

6

there is an

more money without the A. of U. I.'

this season than I've made with it."

Madame Beausoleil catches her breath, shows relief in every feature, lifts her eyes with sudden brightness, and exclaims:

"Dass good! Dass mighty good, yass! 'Tis

so."

"Yes, it is; and I tell you, and you only, because I'm proud to believe you're my sincere friend. Am I right?"

Zoséphine busies herself with her riding-skirt, shifts her seat a little, and with studied carelessness assents. "Yes," her companion repeats; " and so I tell you. The true business man is candid to all, communicative to none. And yet I open my heart to you. I can't help it; it won't stay shut. And you must see, I'm

sure you must, that there's something more in there besides money; don't you?" His tone grows tender. Madame Beausoleil steals a glance toward him, a grave, timid glance. She knows there is safety in the present moment. Three horsemen, strangers, far across the field in their front, are coming toward them, and she feels an almost proprietary complacence in a suitor whom she can safely trust to be saying just the right nothings when those shall meet them and ride by. She does not speak; but he says:

He

"You know there is, dear Jos-friend'!" smiles with modest sweetness. "G. W. Tarbox dosen't run after money, and consequently he never runs past much without picking it up." They both laugh in decorous moderation. The horsemen are drawing near; they are Acadians. "I admit I love to make money. But that's not my chief pleasure. My chief pleasure is the study of human nature.

"The proper study of mankind is man.

Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,

The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.'

They don't like to be

"This season I've been studying these Acadian people. And I like them! reminded that they're Acadians. Well, that's natural; the Creoles used to lord it over them so when the Creoles were slave-holding planters and they were small farmers. That's about past now. The Acadians are descended from peasants, that's true, while some Creoles are from the French nobility. hooh! wouldn't any fair-minded person

But,

- the horse

men are within earshot; they are staring at the silk hat- 66 Adjieu."

"Adjieu." They pass.

66

6

- Wouldn't any fair-minded person that knows what France was two or three hundred years ago show you some day in the Album' - about as lief be descended from a good deal of that peasantry as from a good deal of that nobility? I should smile! Why, my dear friend, the day's coming when the Acadians will be counted as good French blood as there is in Louisiana! They're the only white people that ever trod this continent - island or mainland - who never on their own account oppressed anybody. Some little depredation on their British neighbors, out of dogged faithfulness to their king and church, that's the worst charge you can make. Look at their history! all poetry and pathos! Look at their character! brave, peaceable, loyal, industrious, home-loving"

Her

But Zoséphine was looking at the speaker. face is kindled with the inspiration of his praise. His own eyes grow ardent.

"Look at their women! Ah, Josephine, I'm look Don't turn away.

ing at one!

'One made up

Of loveliness alone;

A woman, of her gentle sex

The seeming paragon.'

The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect woman nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command.'