"Delightful spot! I know not what could e'er draw hence my willing feet, Unless it be a chance I see, for some kind friend to stand a treat." "There!" bringing down his right hand, with a hearty whack upon his knee, "if I haven't been off again into one of my spontaneous bursts of poetical effusion! Who ever saw that beat?" "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Charley. "I take the hint; what'll you have; mint-juleps for three, or three for old Cogniac?" "Thank you," said Arthur, as he met Charley's inquiring glance. "Nothing for me. I never indulge." "Oh, you must have something, if it's nothing more than lemonade with a stick in it," returned Charley. "Hurry up your pegs there, Charley!" cried Clinton, at the top of his voice. "Pratt's getting faint, and wants something to strengthen him!" This was said in such a good humored hope-I-don't-offend manner, that Arthur could not repress a smile; and while the smile was on his lips the drinks arrived, and he received his with a bow. That he considered it good, was very evident from the manner in which he drank it, an act which Quirk and Clinton watched narrowly, over the brims of their glasses. Arthur experienced no more pangs of conscience that day; neither did he recall his intended return by the time church was out. After drinking, his companions used every effort to make themselves agreeable, and showed him over the extensive grounds, strolled through the shady avenue on the Levee with him, and then, as the day was warm, declared themselves thirsty, and proposed that Arthur should treat them. He eagerly assented, and for the first time in his life marched boldly into the bar-room, and ordered three strong drinks, all of the same description. Then a military company arrived, and the excitement of the drill, the sound of the martial music, and the fresh uniform of the soldiers, combined with the noise and bustle of railroad travel, and the crowd of lookers on, seemed to dispel all remembrance of Sunday, and the whole afternoon passed in this way, in what then seemed real enjoyment. It was eleven o'clock in the evening when, heated and dizzy from the wine they had drunk, Arthur and Charley took their seats in the cars for home; with Mr. Clinton heavily reclining between them. They were a noisy trio, though an experienced eye might have detected readily that Clinton pretended to be much more intoxicated than he really was. When the cars arrived at St. Joseph-street he alighted, bidding his two friends a hearty good night, and saying, as he shook Arthur's hand: "Hope to see you soon again, Pratt, [hic]--from this day for [hic] ward, consider me one of you."