“I should find the man, child. In every case when performing a duty finish that first before doing anything else. You have shown great prudence in not mentioning the name before. General Butler will of course know this Archer, and will see that you see him. Then I know that he will gladly find your uncle for you.”
“I will do just as you say for you know best. How glad father will be when he learns how you have helped me.”
“Ought you not to send him some word?”
“I will just as soon as I can say that I have delivered the papers to Mr. Archer. He will be so pleased. Then I will visit Uncle Ben until father says for me to come home. Isn’t it queer, Admiral, I have never seen my uncle?”
“You have not? But you have heard from him?”
“No, sir; he came South years ago. Long before I was born, but my father always thought so much of him that I will be glad to see him.”
“In that case the very wisest thing to do is to find John Archer,” said Farragut emphatically. “This is the St. Charles, child.”
They paused before the famous structure. A broad piazza supported by pillars overarched with stone ran along the front, making an imposing entrance. The building was a handsome one, and famed at one time as the finest hotel in the States.
Admiral Farragut and his charge were soon admitted to General Butler’s presence. The General had chosen the ladies’ parlor as his official headquarters. The room was filled with orderlies and sergeants each intent upon the performance of some duty. In the midst of them sat General Butler. He received his visitors courteously. His name familiar to every American, spoken of by some in terms of highest praise, and by others with opprobrium, made Jeanne shrink a little closer to Farragut’s side as the General greeted them. He was of imposing presence. Not tall, but of well-developed form and fine massive head; not graceful in movement but of firm solid aspect; self-possessed and slow of speech.
“This is a great pleasure, Admiral,” he exclaimed with heartiness. “Welcome back to New Orleans.”