Now that I am better, I write you, my brother, and close with these words:  I await you! make all haste!  Your sister, Louisa Cheval.

[Illustration]

“My grandmother,” resumes the memorandum of the Creole great-grandniece, “had often read this letter, and had recounted to me the incidents that followed its reception.  She was then but three years old, but as her aunt lived three years in her (i.e., the aunt’s) brother’s family, my grandmother had known her, and described her to me as a young woman with white hair and walking with a staff.  It was with difficulty that she used her right leg.  My great-grandfather used to tell his children that his sister Louise had been blooming and gay, and spoke especially of her beautiful blonde hair.  A few hours had sufficed to change it to snow, and on the once charming countenance of the poor invalid to stamp an expression of grief and despair.

“It was Lieutenant Rosello, a young Spaniard, who came on horseback from Fort Latourette to carry to my great-grandfather his sister’s letter....  Not to lose a moment, he [the brother] began, like Lieutenant Rosello, the journey on horseback, procuring a large ambulance as he passed through New Orleans....  He did all he could to lighten the despair of his poor sister....  All the members of the family lavished upon her every possible care and attention; but alas! the blow she had received was too terrible.  She lingered three years, and at the end of that time passed peaceably away in the arms of her brother, the last words on her lips being ‘Leonard!—­my child!’”

So we make way for the bright and happy story of how Francoise made Evangeline’s journey through the dark wilds of Atchafalaya.

FOOTNOTES:  [3] County. [4] If this was an English ship,—­for her crew was English and her master’s name seems to have been Andrews,—­she was probably not under British colors.—­TRANSLATOR. [5] The treeless marshes of the Delta would be very slow coming into view.—­TRANSLATOR.

THE ADVENTURES OF FRANCOISE AND SUZANNE.

1795.

Years passed by.  Our war of the Revolution was over.  The Indians of Louisiana and Florida were all greedy, smiling gift-takers of his Catholic Majesty.  So were some others not Indians; and the Spanish governors of Louisiana, scheming with them for the acquisition of Kentucky and the regions intervening, had allowed an interprovincial commerce to spring up.  Flatboats and barges came floating down the Mississippi past the plantation home where little Suzanne and Francoise were growing up to womanhood.  Many of the immigrants who now came to Louisiana were the royalist noblesse flying from the horrors of the French Revolution.  Governor Carondelet was strengthening his fortifications around New Orleans; for Creole revolutionists had slipped away to Kentucky and were there plotting an armed descent in flatboats upon his little capital,