LITMIR.BIZ

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only going to Carrolton, to stroll through the gardens; that's all."

      "Ah, yes; going to contemplate the beauties of nature. I understand. Just so. Glad to hear it; for, of all things in the world, it's just what will suit me best. Just consider me one of you."

      Arthur eyed his new friend with considerable curiosity, as he let off these little explosive sentences, and withdrew his eyes with an unsatisfied look, as the other ceased speaking.

      "He evidently," thought he, "wants to seem a gentleman, and don't know how."

      "Here we are!" cried Clinton, as the train stopped. "Now, my dear friends, let's hasten to leave these clattering cars, where I scarcely can breathe. Ah! you perceive this beautiful scenery has already inspired me. I s'pose, Mr. Pratt, you didn't know I was a poet before, did you?"

      "I was certainly not previously aware of your poetical talents, Mr. Clinton," returned Arthur, laughing, "but I shall never doubt it again."

      "That's right, my boy. Like your candor. You're excusable for not noticing before that I was a genius. It was no doubt merely because you didn't look closely in my face. Any one can see it who does. There's the pretty Miss Julia Tippet, she declares she'd know me for one through a pair of green spectacles."

      So saying, Mr. Clinton sprang to the ground, and being a little taller than the other two, he familiarly passed an arm over their shoulders as he stepped between them, and so passed on through the garden gate.

      As they trod the neat shell walks, and inhaled the fragrance of the many blooming flowers, Arthur enthusiastically expressed his delight; and Mr. Clinton, suddenly drew in a long breath through his nostrils, and exclaimed, at the same time striking an attitude:—

"Delightful spot! I know not what could e'er draw hence my willing feet, Unless it be a chance I see, for some kind friend to stand a treat."

      "There!" bringing down his right hand, with a hearty whack upon his knee, "if I haven't been off again into one of my spontaneous bursts of poetical effusion! Who ever saw that beat?"

      "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Charley. "I take the hint; what'll you have; mint-juleps for three, or three for old Cogniac?"

      "Thank you," said Arthur, as he met Charley's inquiring glance. "Nothing for me. I never indulge."

      "Oh, you must have something, if it's nothing more than lemonade with a stick in it," returned Charley.

      "Hurry up your pegs there, Charley!" cried Clinton, at the top of his voice. "Pratt's getting faint, and wants something to strengthen him!"

      This was said in such a good humored hope-I-don't-offend manner, that Arthur could not repress a smile; and while the smile was on his lips the drinks arrived, and he received his with a bow. That he considered it good, was very evident from the manner in which he drank it, an act which Quirk and Clinton watched narrowly, over the brims of their glasses.

      Arthur experienced no more pangs of conscience that day; neither did he recall his intended return by the time church was out. After drinking, his companions used every effort to make themselves agreeable, and showed him over the extensive grounds, strolled through the shady avenue on the Levee with him, and then, as the day was warm, declared themselves thirsty, and proposed that Arthur should treat them.

      He eagerly assented, and for the first time in his life marched boldly into the bar-room, and ordered three strong drinks, all of the same description.

      Then a military company arrived, and the excitement of the drill, the sound of the martial music, and the fresh uniform of the soldiers, combined with the noise and bustle of railroad travel, and the crowd of lookers on, seemed to dispel all remembrance of Sunday, and the whole afternoon passed in this way, in what then seemed real enjoyment.

      It was eleven o'clock in the evening when, heated and dizzy from the wine they had drunk, Arthur and Charley took their seats in the cars for home; with Mr. Clinton heavily reclining between them. They were a noisy trio, though an experienced eye might have detected readily that Clinton pretended to be much more intoxicated than he really was. When the cars arrived at St. Joseph-street he alighted, bidding his two friends a hearty good night, and saying, as he shook Arthur's hand:

      "Hope to see you soon again, Pratt, [hic]—from this day for [hic] ward, consider me one of you."

      And, with a stagger which threatened a fall, he left the cars, and disappeared round the corner. As he did so, he drew a ponderous key from his pocket, and holding it up between his eye and an adjacent lamp, regarded it closely, then burst into a laugh: "I'll have some fun with this yet, I reckon; I'll teach the governor to forbid my having any of the keys. By the gods! I'll bring him round with this, or die in the attempt," soliloquized Mr. Clinton, swinging the key between his thumb and finger.

      "By-the-by," he added, suddenly thrusting it deep into a side-pocket, "I'll just stroll down Chartres-street, and see what the boys'll do when they find it out."

      Mr. Clinton was evidently perfectly sober.

      Whistling a tune thoughtfully, as he went, he reached Camp-street; when, taking the shady side, he struck into a run, which pace he kept up until he had crossed Canal, then he assumed a slow, careless walk; and as the moon had now risen, the lamps had been put out, and one side of Chartres-street lay in deep shadow.

      To this side he kept, and when he had arrived nearly opposite Delancey's store, he stepped back into an archway, and remained quiet.

      In a few moments he heard the voices of his late companions, and saw them coming down the other side of the street, leaning upon each other, and both evidently fully affected by the liquor they had imbibed.

      As Charley gained the door, he sustained himself by holding with his left hand upon the door-post, while with the right he applied a small steel key to the key-hole.

      "Why the devil don't it fit? Lend a hand here, Pratt, and see what you can do."

      Arthur had seated himself upon the step, and sat with his head leaning on his hand, but he rose at Charley's bidding, and took the key.

      "Why don't it fit?" said he, after looking at it a moment, intently. "Well, the reason is my trunk key don't fit this door, and I'd like to know how you came by it."

      "Your trunk key! well, where's the other? Your trunk key! I guess so! Well, here's one that will fit," and he drew out a brass house-door key, and shufflingly applied it to the lock.

      "Devil! wrong again. Pratt, stand up here, and help me."

      "We'll never get in at this rate, Charley."

      "I'll give you a lodging, if that's what you're after," said a voice near them, and a hand fell heavily on a shoulder of each.

      "Nabbed, by gripes!" cried Quirk, suddenly turning round.

      "But just look here, old feller, I'd like to know [hic] what for you arrest a couple—of gen'l'men for—as is decently [hic] to go home to bed."

      "Breaking into a store is a new way of going to bed. You're my prisoners; so march along with you."

      "Do you take us for thieves," said Arthur, startled into soberness; "we belong there, and were trying to use our pass-key."

      "Let's see your pass-key, then."

      "It's lost! I can find it neither in my own nor my companion's pockets."

      "Good story, but won't go down, so trot along."

      And the watchman, stepping between them, seized an arm of each, and hurried them off to the guard-house.

      "Phew! that's more than I bargained for," said Clinton, stepping out of the archway, and looking after the retreating figures. "However, that's Grey that's got 'em, and I can make it straight by morning." So saying, he pressed his hand hard upon the ponderous key he held, and muttering, "Ah, a good time's coming," turned his steps toward the First Municipality.

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