Dennis McCann knew a lot about New Orleans. He had been spending days exploring the town every time he got into port, and there were few corners into which he had not penetrated. He took Tad and Abe a good ten miles that Sunday afternoon, and Tad, at least, was footsore before they finished. First the mate of the _Ohio Belle_ led them northward and eastward through the hot streets to the green flats at the rear of the town. As they went they were joined by other groups bound in the same direction, and soon they found themselves part of a huge throng, all moving steadily out toward the Congo Plains. Rising above the dust of the crowds, they saw the rough timber amphitheater of the bull ring, and near it the gaudy-hued canvas of a huge tent. There was no bullfight scheduled for that day, but Cayetano’s famous circus was in full swing. Pushing forward with the throng, they entered the big top, where snake-charmers and sleek-skinned yellow dancers vied for attention with two-headed calves, fat ladies, and real wild animals in cages. The latter appealed most to Abe. He had read of lions in _Æsop’s Fables_, but never had he beheld one nor heard one roar, and Tad laughed to see the six-foot Hoosier jump and shiver when that bass thunder sounded behind him. When they had finished with the circus, McCann led the way to another marvel--the roadbed of the New Orleans and Pontchartrain Railway which was to connect the city with the lake on the north. This was to be one of the first steam railroads in the world, and Abe and Tad looked with awe on the preparations for it. People even said that with a steam engine on wheels, such as the owners proposed to run, you could pull half a dozen big wagons at once along level rails! “As strong as six teams of horses, Abe! Do you believe that?” asked Tad. “Yes,” said the backwoodsman, “reckon I do, after seein’ a steamboat work. But when they tell me this thing is _faster_ than horses, I’ll admit I’m a leetle bit doubtful.” They came back in the cool of the early evening and strolled along the levee above the town to the park-like drive where a long parade of carriages wound among the China trees. Planters and their wives, aristocratic Creole families, and the beautiful women of the free quadroon caste went smiling by, behind their smartly trotting horses. From a little lake a flock of pelicans rose on heavy wings and flapped away across the sunset to their nests. Fireflies began to twinkle in the gathering dusk. A guitar was strumming softly near by. “Golly,” murmured Tad, “I shouldn’t wonder if Heaven must be something like this!” Abe’s face was overspread by a grin. “Only,” said he, “in Heaven the folks have wings, an’ the mosquitoes don’t.” And he emphasized his remark by slapping himself on the back of the neck. They strolled back through a summer night that was breathlessly hot in the narrow streets and cooled by a little breeze along the levee.