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. 
“Tt 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 cooling 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. 
“<Tn the hotel, to be sure,’ was his reply. 
“T 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 a private table, and 
