CHAPTER VIII.
"'Tis easier for the generous to forgive
Than for offence to ask it."
—Thomson.
The only noteworthy incident of the journey of our friends took place at New Orleans, where they halted for a few days of rest to all, and sight-seeing on the part of the young people.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore, who had some business matters to attend to in connection with Elsie's property in the city, was hurrying back to his hotel one afternoon, when a beggar accosted him, asking for a little help, holding out a very forlorn hat to receive it.
There seemed something familiar in the voice, and Mr. Dinsmore stopped and looked earnestly at its owner.
A seamed, scarred face, thin, cadaverous, framed in with unkempt hair and scraggy beard—an attenuated form clothed in rags—these were what met his view, surely for the first time, for there was nothing familiar about either.
No, not for the first time; for, with a start of recognition and a muttered curse, the mendicant dropped his hat, then stooped, hastily snatched it from the ground, and rushed away down an alley.
"Ah, I know you now!" cried Mr. Dinsmore, giving instant pursuit.