"Twelve years and more ago."
"See quite a difference now, eh?"
"I was not here long enough to see what there was in the beginning."
They walked up a street that was intersected at various and irregular intervals, by numerous other streets, that were as narrow, if not more so, than the one they were following was wide. In the center of the wide street were four car lines. This part of the street was raised above the other, and was protected by a curbing, that prevented anything with wheels from crossing, only at the intersections. Wyeth remembered this. It was something he had never seen elsewhere, and he wondered who could have conceived the idea of making one street so wide, and then crossing it with others that were so narrow that only one single street car track was possible, and, when passing down it, the wagons on either side had to hug the curbing closely, or be collided with.
"A beautiful place," he commented, pointing to the maze of electric lights that lined the narrow cross streets, and made their way as bright as day—brighter, he came afterwards to see, when it rained.
"This town was settled by French and Spaniards many years ago, and they were very artistic in planning for the future of the city," said the other.
"It is apparent on all sides; I can see that," Wyeth agreed.
"There are some of the most beautiful colored people here you ever saw," said the other.
"There is one now," said Wyeth, as a woman, different from the kind he had been accustomed to, passed by.
"Creole," advised the other.