Mr.Royal pointed out one of them, nestled in flowers and half encircled by an orange-grove, and said, "That is my home.

When I first came here, the place where it stands was a field of sugar-canes; but the city is fast stretching itself into the suburbs." They approached the dwelling; and in answer to the bell, the door was opened by a comely young negress, with a turban of bright colors on her head and golden hoops in her ears.

Before the gentlemen had disposed of their hats and canes, a light little figure bounded from one of the rooms, clapping her hands, and exclaiming, "Ah, Papasito!" Then, seeing a stranger with him, she suddenly stood still, with a pretty look of blushing surprise.
"Never mind, Mignonne," said her father, fondly patting her head.
"This is Alfred Royal King, from Boston; my namesake, and the son of a dear old friend of mine.

I have invited him to see you dance.

Mr.
King, this is my Floracita." The fairy dotted a courtesy, quickly and gracefully as a butterfly touching a flower, and then darted back into the room she had left.
There they were met by a taller young lady, who was introduced as "My daughter Rosabella." Her beauty was superlative and peculiar.