"Where am I? French faces, French music, French voices, and the conversation in French!" for the botanist addressed the females in that language, though with a strong Rhenish patois, that confirmed my first impressions of his nationality. "Where am I?" My eye ran around the room in search of an answer. I could recognise the furniture: the cross-legged Campeachy chairs, a rebozo, the palm-leaf petate. "Ha, Alp!" The dog lay stretched along the mattress near my couch, and sleeping. "Alp! Alp!" "Oh, mamma! mamma! ecoutez! the stranger calls." The dog sprang to his feet, and throwing his fore paws upon the bed, stretched his nose towards me with a joyous whimpering. I reached out my hand and patted him, at the same time giving utterance to some expressions of endearment. "Oh, mamma! mamma! he knows him. Voila." The lady rose hastily, and approached the bed. The German seized me by the wrist, pushing back the Saint Bernard, which was bounding to spring upward. "Mon Dieu! he is well. His eyes, doctor. How changed!" "Ya, ya; moch better; ver moch better. Hush! away, tog! Keep away, mine goot tog!" "Who? where? Tell me, where am I? Who are you?" "Do not fear! we are friends: you have been ill!" "Yes, yes! we are friends: you have been ill, sir. Do not fear us; we will watch you. This is the good doctor. This is mamma, and I am--" "An angel from heaven, beautiful Zoe!" The child looked at me with an expression of wonder, and blushed as she said-- "Hear, mamma! He knows my name!" It was the first compliment she had ever received from the lips of love. "It is goot, madame! he is ver moch relieft; he ver soon get over now. Keep away, mine goot Alp! Your master he get well: goot tog, down!" "Perhaps, doctor, we should leave him. The noise--" "No, no! if you please, stay with me. The music; will you play again?" "Yes, the music is ver goot; ver goot for te pain." "Oh, mamma! let us play, then." Both mother and daughter took up their instruments, and again commenced playing. I listened to the sweet strains, watching the fair musicians a long while. My eyes at length became heavy, and the realities before me changed into the soft outlines of a dream. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ My dream was broken by the abrupt cessation of the music. I thought I heard, through my sleep, the opening of a door. When I looked to the spot lately occupied by the musicians, I saw that they were gone. The bandolin had been thrown down upon the ottoman, where it lay, but "she" was not there. I could not, from my position, see the whole of the apartment; but I knew that someone had entered at the outer door, I heard expressions of welcome and endearment, a rustling of dresses, the words "Papa!" "My little Zoe"; the latter uttered in the voice of a man. Then followed some explanations in a lower tone, which I could not hear.