My new acquaintances had admitted me as a link into the chain of their happy circle; and for three months I enjoyed, almost without interruption, its pleasant hospitality.
It became a spell that was hard to break; and when the hour of leave-taking arrived, I looked upon it as a painful necessity—though my absence did not promise to be a prolonged one.
The necessity was one of sufficient urgency. A July sun was glaring from the sky, and the yellow spectre had entered the Crescent City, upon its annual visit of devastation.
Already had it begun its ghastly work, and here and there presented itself in horrid mien. In those Faubourgs where dwelt the less opulent of the population, I observed traces of its presence; that symbol of terrible significance—the red cross upon the closed door—telling too plainly that the destroyer had been there.
It would have been madness for me to have remained amidst a pestilence, from which it was so easy to escape. Twenty hours upon a fast boat, and I should be clear of the danger: and among the up-river towns I might make choice of an asylum.
Four large cities—Pittsburg, Louisville, Cincinatti, and Saint Louis—lay beyond the latitude of the epidemic: all easy of access. In any of these I might find a luxurious home; but I longed to look upon those boundless fields of green, for years the idol of my youthful fancy; and I knew that Saint Louis was the gate that guided to them. Thither, then, was I bound.
With regret I parted from my Creole friends. They had no need to fly or fear the scourge. Acclimatised in the middle of that vast marais, its malaria had for them neither terror nor danger. Immunity from both was their birthright, and New Orleans was their home throughout the year: though during the months of intolerable heat and utter stagnation of business, it was their habit to reside in one of the numerous summer retreats found upon the shores of Lake Pontchartrain.
I was in hopes they would have accompanied me to Saint Louis, and I endeavoured to induce them to do so.
Luis seemed desirous, and yet declined! I knew not the delicate reason that influenced him to this self-denial.
I promised to return with the first frost; for this usually kills “Yellow Jack.”