278 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 



buttons rattled against the windows opposite me. Shak- 

 ing hands with all who could go through the ceremony, 

 I left the table, whereon had been eaten the best dinner 

 of my life — where I had met the cleverest party ever 

 assembled to my knowledge ; such was my first dinner in 

 New Orleans. 



" It was nearly one o'clock at night, when I met my 

 friend with whom I had parted in the morning. I found 

 him in his room suffering from a severe attack of the colic ; 

 I was still under the pleasurable excitement of my din- 

 ner, its effects were still radiating about my brain like 

 heat from a cooliug stove. I was very communicative 

 about the events of the day, and among other things ex- 

 ceedingly grateful to my sick friend for introducing me 

 to such a splendid hotel and to such good dinners. 



'' 'Good dinners,' he groaned, 'do I look as if I had 

 eaten a good dinner ? nearly dead from swallowing cab- 

 bage and pork.' 



" The very mention of such gross aliment made me 

 sick, and I asked him where he dined, with undisguised 

 alarm. 



" ' In the hotel, to be sure,' was his reply. 

 " I told him that he was dreaming, and to convince 

 him, gave him a hurried description of my own dinner 

 at the same time and place. The severe pains of the 

 colic could not altogether destroy the mysterious mean- 

 ing of my friend's eyes as he looked up, and informed 

 me that the table I sat down at was 2i private table, and 



