They strolled on, still filled with curiosity and gratifying it.  They saw many buildings that surpassed anything hitherto in their experience, the brick parish church, on the site of which the Cathedral of St. Louis was afterwards built, the arsenal, the jail, and the house of the Capuchins, who had lately triumphed over the Jesuits.  The largest building of all that they saw was the convent of the Ursuline Nuns, standing in the city square on the river front, and this was, in fact, the largest building in New Orleans.

While there were many houses of brick, the cheaper were of cypress wood, and the sidewalks were only four or five feet wide, with a wooden drain for a gutter.  There was no paving of the streets, which, now deep in dust, would turn to quagmires when the rain came.  At long intervals were wooden posts with projecting arms from which hung oil lamps, to be lighted when nightfall came.

Long Jim uttered an exclamation of disgust, and gripped his nose firmly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

“I never smelt sech smells afore in all my life,” he said, pointing to the heaps of garbage scattered about.  “A big town like this here is pow’ful interestin’, but it ain’t clean.  Paul, remember them great forests up thar in Kentucky an’ across the Ohio!  Remember how clean an’ nice the ground is!  Remember all them big, fine, friendly trees, millions an’ millions uv ’em!  Remember all them nice little springs uv clean, cold water, clear enough to be lookin’ glasses, one, an’ sometimes more, every three or four hundred yards!  Remember all them nice smells uv the wild flowers, an’ the trees, an’ the grass, an’ me settin’ at the foot uv the biggest tree uv ‘em all, cookin’ on a roarin’ fire, fat, juicy buffaler an’ deer steaks fur you fellers!”

“I remember,” replied Paul smiling.  “I remember it all, and I do believe, Jim, that you are homesick for the woods.”

“Not homesick eggzackly, but I jest want to say that a big town like this kin be mighty interestin’, but after I’ve seed it, give me back our own clean woods.”

“I believe I agree with you, Jim,” said Paul thoughtfully.

They strolled back into the Place d’Armes, where the review was still in progress, and where more people were gathering.  The women were bare-headed, and generally wore a short round skirt, and long basque like overgarments, the two invariably of different, but bright, colors.  All of them wore much ribbon and jewelry, but, as a rule, they were too dark of countenance to suit the ideas of the five concerning feminine beauty.  At rare intervals, however, they saw a girl with light hair and light eyes and light complexion, and all these were really handsome.

“Those, I imagine, are French,” said Paul.  “We’ve got into the habit of thinking of the French as always dark, but many of them are fair.  I’ve heard our school teacher, Mr. Pennypacker, say so often, and he ought to know.  For the matter of that, some of the Spaniards are light, too.”