The thought thus expressed was of younger date than the day of my removing to Bringiers from the plantation. A month had elapsed since that day.
The details of my life during that month would possess but little interest for you, reader; though to me every hour was fraught with hopes or fears that still hold a vivid place in my memory. When the heart is charged with love, every trifle connected with that love assumes the magnitude of an important matter; and thoughts or incidents that otherwise would soon be forgotten, hold a firm place in the memory. I could write a volume about my affairs of that month, every line of which would be deeply interesting to me, but not to you. Therefore I write it not; I shall not even present you with the journal that holds its history.
I continued to live in the hotel at Bringiers. I grew rapidly stronger. I spent most of my time in rambling through the fields and along the Levee—boating upon the river—fishing in the bayous—hunting through the cane-breaks and cypress-swamps, and occasionally killing time at a game of billiards, for every Louisiana village has its billiard salon.
The society of Reigart, whom I now called friend, I enjoyed—when his professional engagements permitted.
His books, too, were my friends; and from these I drew my first lessons in botany. I studied the sylva of the surrounding woods, till at a glance I could distinguish every tree and its kind—the giant cypress, emblem of sorrow, with tall shaft shooting out of the apex of its pyramidal base, and crowned with its full head of sad dark foliage,—sadder from its drapery of tillandsia; the “tupelo” (Nyssa aquatica), that nymph that loves the water, with long delicate leaves and olive-like fruit—the “persimmon,” or “American lotus” (Diospyros Virginiana), with its beautiful green foliage and red date-plums—the gorgeous magnolia grandiflora, and its congener, the tall tulip-tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)—the water-locust (Gleditschia monosperma); and, of the same genus, the three-thorned honey-locust (triacanthos), whose light pinnated leaves scarce veil the sun—the sycamore (platanus), with its smooth trunk and wide-reaching limbs of silvery hue—the sweet-gum (Liquidambar styraciflua), exuding its golden drops—the aromatic but sanitary “sassafras” (Laurus sassafras)—the “red-bay” (Laurus Caroliniensis), of cinnamon-like aroma—the oaks of many species, at the head of which might be placed that majestic evergreen of the southern forests, the “live-oak” (Quercus virens)—the “red ash,” with its hanging bunches of samarce—the shady nettle-tree (Celtis crassifolia), with its large cordate leaves and black drupes—and last, though not least interesting, the water-loving cotton-wood (Populus angulata). Such is the sylva that covers the alluvion of Louisiana.
It is a region beyond the limits of the true palm-tree; but this has its representative in the palmetto—“latanier” of the French—the Sabal palm of the botanist, of more than one species, forming in many places the underwood, and giving a tropical character to the forest.
I studied the parasites—the huge llianas, with branches like tree-trunks, black and gnarled; the cane-vines, with pretty star-like flowers; the muscadine grape-vines, with their dark purple clusters; the bignonias, with trumpet-shaped corollas; the smilacae, among which are conspicuous the Smilax rotundifolia, the thick bamboo-briar, and the balsamic sarsaparilla.
Not less interesting were the vegetable forms of cultivation—the “staples” from which are drawn the wealth of the land. These were the sugar-cane, the rice-reed, the maize and tobacco-plants, the cotton shrub, and the indigo. All were new to me, and I studied their propagation and culture with interest.
Though a month apparently passed in idleness, it was, perhaps, one of the most profitably employed of my life. In that short month I acquired more real knowledge than I had done during years of classic study.
But I had learnt one fact that I prized above all, and that was, that I was beloved by Aurore!