"No! you don't mean to leave so? Come, let's just step over to Royal-street, and take a glass of soda-water. You will find it so refreshing."
Poor Arthur "felt his pockets bare," and was about to refuse, when Mr. Clinton slipped a hand through his arm, and drew him with him, saying, as he did so:—
"You know it's my treat this time, Pratt. Don't refuse a friend."
As Arthur moved away with him, Guly determined not to leave his side for an instant, while in the presence of so dangerous a companion, and though his heart went down as he saw Arthur thus forgeting all his new-formed resolu
tions, yet he hoped for the best, and went with him resolutely.
They entered a richly ornamented saloon, where all that could please the palate or tickle the taste was most temptingly displayed; and Clinton, tossing a gold half-eagle upon the marble counter, called for "a few choice titbits and a bottle of wine."
As the last desideratum was named, Guly glanced anxiously toward his brother, but Arthur's eye was turned another way, and when the collation was brought he sat readily down at the table by Clinton's side. Guly did not wish to appear ill-bred or impolite, and he accepted the hearty invitation of his new acquaintance to "sit by," with as good a grace as he could command. Of the wine, however, he could not be prevailed upon to touch a drop—though he did not fail to perceive the sneer that curled Mr. Clinton's thin lip at his refusal.
"You don't mean to say," said the last mentioned gentleman, half-pityingly, "that you expect to remain in New-Orleans any length of time without learning to drink wine?"
"I shall never touch a drop, sir, unless absolutely necessary in a case of sickness."
"Bah! anybody would know you were from the North, my dear fellow, just by that speech. Nobody hesitates to drink wine here, unless those who are too poor to pay for