I once lodged in the old French quarter in a house kept by two maiden sisters, only one of whom spoke English at all. They were refined, and had the air of decayed gentlewomen. The one who spoke English had the vivacity and agreeability of a Paris landlady, without the latter’s invariable hardness and sharpness. I thought I had found in her pretty mode of speech the real Creole dialect of her class. “You are French,” I said, when I engaged my room. “No,” she said, “no, m’sieu, I am an American; we are of the United States,” with the air of informing a stranger that New Orleans was now annexed. “Yes,” I replied, “but you are of French descent?” “Oh, and a little Spanish.” “Can you tell me, madame,” I asked, one Sunday morning, “the way to Trinity Church?” “I cannot tell, m’sieu; it is somewhere the other side; I do not know the other side.” “But have you never been the other side of Canal Street?” “Oh yes, I went once, to make a visit on a friend on New-Year’s.” I explained that it was far uptown, and a Protestant church. “M’sieu, is he Cat’olic?” “Oh no; I am a Protestant.” “Well, me, I am Cat’olic; but Protestan’ o’ Cat’olic, it is ‘mos’ ze same.” This was purely the instinct of politeness, and that my feelings might not be wounded, for she was a good Catholic, and did not believe at all that it was “‘mos’ ze same.” It was Exposition year, and then April, and madame had never been to the Exposition. I urged her to go, and one day, after great preparation for a journey to the other side, she made the expedition, and returned enchanted with all she had seen, especially with the Mexican band. A new world was opened to her, and she resolved to go again. The morning of Louisiana Day she rapped at my door and informed me that she was going to the fair. “And”—she paused at the door-way, her eyes sparkling with her new project—“you know what I goin’ do?” “No.” “I goin’ get one big bouquet, and give to the leader of the orchestre.” “You know him, the leader?” “No, not yet.” I did not know then how poor she was, and how much sacrifice this would be to her, this gratification of a sentiment.