The Wave Club had, from their boat-house to the lake, a splendid course of almost straight water, nearly five miles in length, which was always smooth and to be depended upon. The club owned, besides the " Wave," a number of soft-cushioned, comfortable ladies' barges ; and rowing parties and parties for a row and a dinner, at the then flourishing restaurant at the old Spanish Fort, were the order of the day. Indeed, the members of this club seem to have devoted themselves to this sort of sport, as we have no record of their ever having rowed a race.

It was not for want of competitors that the Wave Club never rowed a race, for within a year after its formation a second, and shortly after a third rowing club appeared on the waters of our city. .

The Lady of Lyons Club was the second organization of the kind, and was formed in 1836. They scorned the quiet waters of the canal, and chose the mighty bosom of the Father of Waters for their practice ground. Their boat-house was situated a few hundred yards above the point on the Algiers side of the river. They had numerous boats, which were named after the characters in the famous play from which the club took its cognomen.

The formation of the Algerine Club followed that of the Lady of Lyons but a few months. In the course of the next few years four clubs made their appearance on th3 whilom untroubled waters. The Knickerbocker, the Locofoco, and the Edwin Forrest were successively organized, and a short time after, the Washington Club joined the now large fleet of boats, which were seen each evening on the placid surface of the river.

The first race of which we have been able to find any record is reported April 8, 1839. The race was rowed by professionals, for a stake of $1,(X?0, and the course rowed was from opposite the Second Municipality, up stream about two miles and return. The contestants were the Mobile boat "Celeste" and the Orleans boat "Thos. M. Hamblin. ,, An immense crowd turned out to see the race. The day was all that could be wished for, and the river was as smooth as glass. A capital start was had, both boats getting away at the word, on an even keel and with a steady stroke, and the race up to the turning stake was most exciting. The "Hamblin" took a slight lead at the start, but failed to open water, and the " Celeste," calling up a spurt, gradually gained on her, and at the mile and a half showed her nose in front, and led her to the itake by about three-quarters of a length. Getting away from the stake the " Celeste " had a decided lead, but, the " Hamblin's " crew responding to the call for a jump, she failed to hold bcr advantage, and the " Hamblin " passed her with a rush, winning the race by about a clear length. New Orleans was, of course, jubilant over the success, and the Mobilians departed vowing vengeance.

The second event of which we have record was a regatta at Madisonville on the Tchefunecta River, August 11th, 1839. The extant reports of the regatta are decidedly meagre, but from what we can gather from the accounts of the oldest inhabitants, we should judge it was rather an interesting affair. The boats "Pauline," "Gen. Damas" and "Thos. Hamblin " started, but the "Hamblin" fouled the " Damas" almost at the start, and while a war of words was passing between these boats, the " Pauline " rowed quietly over the coarse, winning the race with ease. A general row was the unfortunate result of the day's unsatisfactory sport, in which the coxswain of the " Hamblin " received a severe mauling.

The following year, 1840, boating matters seem to have taken a more brilliant start than at anytime previously. Early in the season, while the river was still running high and full of driftwood, a regatta was held on it opposite Gretna. The day—April 26th—was lovely, and the crowd in attendance was the largest ever seen on the banks of the river. The prize was a handsome solid silver cup in the design of a boat supported on rests. There were four entries—the boat "St. Nicholas" of the Knickerbocker Club, " Gen. Jackson " of the Locofoco Club, the ' Gladiator " of the Edwin Forrest Club, and the "Algerine " of the Algiers Club. The Knickerbockers were prime favorites previous to the start, and a large amount of money was staked upon them. The start, which was a poor one, was made at half past four, and, after a most exciting race, the "Algerine " came home winners in 23 minutes, and carried off the handsome prize. The distance of the race has not been handed down, but it must have been about two miles.

This affair was followed on the 17th of May by a grand regatta at the Prairie Cottage, the terminus of the projected Nashville Railroad, situated on the shore of the Lake, about thirteen miles from the City. The prize was a magnificent silver goblet of a beautiful design. There were four entries : the boat " Gladiator," Edwin Forrest Club ; boat " Algerine'" Algerine Club ; boat "Water Witch," Lady of Lyons Club ; and the boat " Maid of Orleans," Knickerbocker Club-all of which put in an appearance at the stake-boat for a start. The sky was overcast, but the Lake was in a most splendid condition. An immense crowd went over from the city by special train. The boats had an excellent send-off, but the " Maid of Orleans " had the misfortune to break a thwart almost at the start, and in consequence lost much ground. The " Gladiator " took the lead, closely pressed by " Witch," who was leading the "Algerine " by a scant half length. The pace was hot, but there was no material change in the position of the boats up to the turning stake, from which point to the finish the race was most exciting.

The boats were almost abreast, and rowing a spurting stroke. It seemed for a time as if they must all cross the line together ; but within a few hundred yards of the finish the splendid crew of the " Water Witch " let out their reserve link and drew away from their opponents, crossing the score winners by two lengths, amid the vociferous cheers of their friends on shore. After turning the stake the Knickerbockers broke another thwart and lost an oar. and conse<

quently brought up the rear, much to the disgust of the betting men, with whom they were the favorites previous to the start. This day's racing may be considered as the most successful event of this epoch.

The name of the Lady of Lyons has been handed down to us as that of the crack club of this period, and their boats, boat-house, etc., are cited as being the finest in the city, if not in the South.

On the Sunday following another regatta took place at the Prairie Cottage, which, though not as great a success as the first one, drew a larger crowd to Lake shore. The Edwin Forrest, Knickerbocker, Algerine and Locofoco Clubs participated, the inducement being a silver tea-bowl. There was a heavy sea on at the time of the start, and the boats found great difficulty in maneuvering. A fair start sent the boats out through the rollers, among which they were at times almost lost to view. The "Algerine " was the first to reach the stake, situated dead to windward, but on the way home she was overhauled by the "Gladiator," of the Forrest Club, which came in winner by some lengths, in an almost swamped condition. The winners were received on shore with hearty cheers from the spectators, and the affair was highly enjoyed by ail except the men in the boats.


The next event was a regatta, open to all amateurs, which took place on Sunday, June 31, 1840, opposite the Willow Grove Hotel, Algiers. The prize was an elegant liquor stand and salver, and the race was to be rowed in one and a half mile heats, best two in three. This called forth the " Water Witch," of the Lady of Lyons Club, the "Jackson," of the Locofoco Club, the "Fairy " and the " Maid of Orleans," of the Knickerbockers, and resulted in an uninteresting victory for the " Water Witch."

This was the last regatta for some time. The older and more staunch organizations continued to row in the river, and though a good-natured spurt between some of their different boats was of an almost nightly occurrence, they did not measure oars in a bona fide race for the space of nearly two years.

The year 1841 seems to have been barren of anything in the way of aquatic sport, but the papers of the following spring contain a notice of a regatta at Gretna for a silver prize. The distance rowed was five miles and the entries were confined to four-oarecl boats. But the result of the race is unknown. This was the sole event of that year and it was followed, in the spring of 1843, May 16th, by a regatta, of the particulars of which we are but little better informed. The Algerine and the Lady of Lyons Clubs, as well as several other clubs, entered, and it is recorded that the Lady of Lyons was victorious, carrying off the prize, a silk flag, upon which the -Algerines had set their hearts. This, too, was the only affair of its season, and, indeed, the last race rowed by clubs in Louisiana for many years.

The few clubs that survived the dearth of interest had been drawn together by association till they all had their houses within a stone's throw of each other, on the batture of Algiers; and the majestic river, on whose bosom they had entrusted their frail craft with implicit confidence turned traitor at last, and by a single effort swept them from the gaze of men.

The Mississippi, in the spring of 1844, began to rise early and rapidly, and for more than a month rushed by the city brimful, threatening devastation on all sides. About the first of May the waters began to decrease, having exhausted their supply, and in the course of a few weeks safety seemed insured, when, on the afternoon of the 30th of May, the bank above the point at Algiers caved in, carrying with it a number of small shanties and sheds, and some cotton. Below this spot stood, besides the boat-houses, a large salt and produce warehouse and a tavern, but no one for a moment supposed that these buildings situated some distance from the water were in danger. The evil was thought to be past, but that evening, at about half-past nine, while most of fhe residents of Algiers were at church, the alarm was sounded that the whole p<?int was goipg down into the river. In an instant the church was, deserted,;

all flocked to the river just in time to see the roof of the old warehouse whirled away by the angry, seething flood, into the darkness of the stormy night. When the morning broke, not a vestige of the boat-houses, or the other buildings near them remained, and on the spot where they had stood, the lead found nine fathoms of water. Nothing in any of the buildings was saved, except a canary in its cage, which was rescued from the Algerine boat-house by Mr. Clark, one of the club. In the Lady of Lyons boat-house was a perfectly-new race-boat, tho "Claude Melnotte," just from the builder, and a number of prizes, etc., all of which were irretrievably lost. So the great Father of Waters struck the death-blow to the rowing interests of our city, and no attempt was made to resuscitate the clubs, or to replace the lost boats, etc., and after being successfully practiced for nearly ten years, rowing for pleasure became a thing of the past, about our shores.


The period of inaction in rowing matters lasted for more than eighteen years, during which yachting took the place of the more athletic water sport. Many fine races were sailed on the adjacent waters of our city, by the large fleet of graceful yachts then in existence, but of rowing there was none.

In 1859 the long dormant spirit of rowing was awakened, and a few gentlemen athletically disposed, joined their efforts and funds for the formation of a club. The result was the appearance on Lake Pontchartrain of a four-oared barge, from the hands of that veteran builder, John Mahony, mauned by members of the Monona Boat Club. Their roll was not very long, but, nevertheless, they erected a small but neat boat-house on the railroad wharf, just beyond the lighthouse, so arranged that the boats could be hoisted and lowered through a well-hole in the floor. For some time they held absolute sway over the waters of the lake, but in the winter of 1859-60 their example was followed and another club was organized, strangely called the Pioneer Club because it was formed last. This club also located their headquarters at the lake end, and. as may be supposed, was the sworn rival of the other club from its inception. Both clubs turned out several boats, and it was but a short time ere the savage debate as to the respective merits of the clubs, encouraged by nightly brushes between their different boats made a race as indispensable as it w r as inevitable. A challenge was finally made and accepted, and the 30th of August was the date fixed for the race. The crews were selected with great care, and went into training on the old fashioned principles of rare beef and stale bread. The Pioneers ordered a boat from Pittsbursr, and John Mahony was intrusted with the building of a gig for the Mononas, which trust he discharged in a most creditable manner.

Excitement in the city ran high, and the betting was exceedingly active, but the clubs were considered so well matched that neither could be called the favorite. They came to the judge's boat in splendid form, except that the boat of the Pioneers was slightly logged amidships, both rowing out-riggers of a rather nondescript model, and not at all similar to each other.

The Monona's boat, the "Delta," was the first on the course, her crew dressed in the club S colors, white shirts and red caps,

Their opponents appeared shortly afterward dressed in blue jackets and white caps.

The course was from the pier head to a stake boat off the pickets at Bayou St. John, about V/i miles and return, making in all about two and two-third miles.

The " Delta " won the race by from eighteen to twenty lengths in 22 minutes 45 seconds, the " Pioneer " making 23:30. This was the only race rowed during this period.

Both clubs lay upon their oars for the rest of the season, looking forward to a meeting in the summer of '61; but the war came in the spring, and the oar was deserted for the musket, and instead of the friendly contest of boats the members of the clubs hurried away to face the enemy on the battlefields of Virginia. No one cast a thought on the boathouses or boats— they were left to whomsoever might take possession, The great struggle engrossed the attention of

all, and again the rowing interests of Louisiana disappeared under force of circumstances. When the war was over, other things than boating had to be thought of—for the pocket was empty and the storeroom bare. And then, too, many of the old members had fallen in battle. All minds turned to rebuilding their ruined fortunes, and rowing was never mentioned, even if thought of.

So it remained until the spring of 1869, when, one April day, a little white yawl was launched on the old Bayou St. John, in which was the nucleus of a new era. Within a few days following her advent a rowing club was suggested, and the project was so eagerly pursued that in the first days of May a meeting of about seventy of the best young men in the city resolved itself into the now flourishing St. John Rowing Club.

The inauguration of the St. John Club, the formation of the Pelican Club, and subsequently of the Orleans, Riversides and Howard Clubs, brings us down to the celebrated regatta of Sept. 14th, 1874, which occurred at Carrollton at the same minute that the bloody conflict was going on between the police and citizens on the levee, and which resulted in nought but disputes and recriminations among the participants, and was followed almost immediately by the dissolution of the Louisiana State Rowing Association, under whose auspices it was given.





• " Back in the thirties," is often referred to by old boatmen as the period when steamboat races, either with each other or against time, were most exciting. There being no parallel lines of railroad, passengers depended on steamboats for rapid transit, and the boat that could make the quickest time in her particular trade was the most popular with the traveling public. Racing on the rivers was so common an occurrence as to attract the attention of only those who happened to be on board the contesting boats, except when one or both lowered the record of previous performances. The runs against time were usually to test a boat's capacity for speed, and by this means improvements were suggested from time to time by which greater speed was continually being obtained, until the building of a raiiroad rendered great speed unnecessary.

The quickest time ever made from New Orleans to Cincinnati was 5 days and 18 hours, in 1843, by the "Duke of Orleans." The "Diana "made a quick trip 2 years later, but no farther effort to make fast time was made by any steamboat till the " Charles Morgan," in June, 1877, left New Orleans 24 hours later than the "Robert Mitchell," passed the latter at Hawesville, and made the time to Cincinnati in 6 days and 11 hours, having made 42 landings and lost 3>£ hours in getting through the canal at Louisville. In April of the same year the " Thompson Dean " made the run in 6 days and 19 hours, having lost 14 hours in the canal and 17 hours at way landings. The " R. R. Springer," in 1881, came through from New Orleans to Cincinnati in 5 days, 12 hours and 45 minutes' running time, which was the quickest made since the trip of the "Duke of Orleans." Her best time was made while in the Mississippi river. From the time she reached the mouth of the Ohio until she arrived at Cincinnati her speed decreased. She consumed 22 hours and 5 minutes more time from New Orleans to Cairo than did the "R. E. Lee" in 1870. In March, 1881, the " Will S. Hays " made the run in 6 days, 17hours and 10 minutes from port to port, having made 51 landings to discharge nearly 3,000 packages, and met with several unusual detentions.

To illustrate further the idea which initiates this article, that speed has been steadily increasing where speed was an object, it may be mentioned, that in 1817 the "Enterprise" made the trip from New Orleans to Louisville in 25 days, 2 hours and 4 minutes, and the " Washington " in 25 days. Two years later the " Shelly " made it in 20 days, 4 hours and 20 minutes. In 1828 the "Paragon " went up in 18 days and 10 hours. Within the next five or six years the advancement in speed was more rapid, as the "Tecumseh," in 1834, was only 8 days and 4 hours from port to port. Three years later the " Sultana " made the run in 5 days and 15 hours, and the " Express" in 6 days and 15 hours. In 1842 the " Ed. Shippen" was claimed to have covered the distance in 5 days and 14 hours, which time was not beaten till 1849, when the " Sultana " cut it down to 5 days and 12 hours, and this was again cut down by the "Bos-tona," in 1851, to 5 days and 8 hours, and further reduced by the " Belle Key," the next year to 4 days and 20 hours, and by the "Reindeer "in 1858 to 4 days, 19 hours and 45 minutes, the "Eclipse " to 4 days, 9 hours and 31 minutes, and the " A. L. Shotwell" to 4 days, 9 hours and 19 minutes. In 1838 the steamer " Diana " received from the post-office department of the United States a prize of $500 in gold, which had been offered to the first boat that would make the run from New Orleans to Louisville inside of six days. Her time was 5 days, 23 hours and 15 minutes.

Steamboat racing did not end with the decade of the thirties. On the contrary, many

exciting races have since been engaged in when boats pointed in the same direction happened to leave port at the same time. The prevalent notion has been, and still is, that on these occasions awful explosions of boilers, by which the river was strewn with killed and mangled, were of frequent occurrence. Such calamities may have occurred, but if they did no record of the fact exists. To generate steam rapidly it was common practice while racing to feed the furnace under the boilers with pine-knots and tar, but the popular notion that on such occasions the captain would not hesitate to give the command, " Throw in another nigger!" is a fallacy. That explosions did not occur when racing is accounted for by the fact that on such occasions the engineer was more than usually watchful and careful. With the progress of enlightenment steamboat racing has almost entirely ceased.

Among the races of former years there was none more exciting than that between the "Baltic " and " Diana " from New Orleans to Louisville, some time in the fifties—perhaps about 1854. During that period a number of handsome steamers were engaged in the trade from Louisville to New Orleans, which would arrive fully laden, take enough freight for ballast and all the passengers that wanted to go, and hurry back to Louisville for another cargo. They kept out of the way of each other as much as possible by leaving Louisville on different days, but sometimes it would happen that two would leave New Orleans on the same day. The "Baltic "and " Diana" left New Orleans together, the "Baltic" slightly in the lead. Capt. Frank Carter commanded the "Baltic," and Capt. E. T. Sturgeon the "Diana." Neither of the boats'had ever exhibited remarkable speed, and, while this was what might be called a slow race, it was the longest race that ever was contested, and very exciting to the passengers and crews. The distance is 1,382 miles, and there was not an hour of the time occupied by the trip that the two boats were not in sight or hearing of each other. An artist who was on board the " Baltic " at the time as a passenger, immortalized the event by transferring to canvas a night scene, in which were depicted the two imposing steamers in the foreground with the furnace fires burning so brightly that tbey cast a red light on the surrounding water. One bank of the broad Mississippi is shown, and the sky is partially clouded, but the moon is peeping between the clouds showing the huge columns of black smoke that issue from the chimneys and stretch away far behind. The " Baltic " is only a short distance ahead of the " Diana." So near together are they that passengers and crews would chaff each other as one boat would momentarily gain on the other. Chromo imitations of the picture were afterward made and met with a rapid sale.

The "Baltic" won the race, more by reason of mismanagement on board the "Diana" than because she was the faster of the two.

To further illustrate the speed gained by steamboats as the years rolled by, it may be noted that in 1844 the quickest trip from New Orleans to Cairo recorded up to that time was made by the "J. M. White," in 3 days, 6 hours and 44 minutes; in 1852 by the "Reindeer," in 3 days, 12 hours and 45 minutes: in 1853 by the "Eclipse," in 3 days, 4 hours and 4 minutes, and by the "A. L. Shotwell," in 3 days, 3 hours and 40 minutes. This time was not shortened till 1870, when the "R. E. Lee" (her second run) "set the pegs" at 3 days, 1 hour and 1 minute, which remains the quickest time to this day. The distance is 1,013 miles.

From New Orleans to Natchez—distance, 272 miles—the quickest time made in 1S14 was 5 days and 10 hours, by the "Comet" ; in 1815 the "Enterprise " occupied 4 days, 11 hours and 20 minutes in making the same trip, and this was cut down two years later to 3 days and 20 hours, by the "Shelby." Two years later still the "Paragon" made it in 12 hours less time and set the pegs for the next nine years, when, in 1828, the "Tecumseh" consumed only 3 days, 1 hour and 20 minutes. This time was first beaten in 1834, when the " Tuscarora" made the trip in 1 day and 21 hours, and it was cut down four years later by the "Natchez" to 1 day and 17 hours. In 1840 the "Edward Shippen" reduced the time to 1 day and 8 hours. In 1844 days were no longer needed in stating the time necessary for the trip, as the " Sultana " made it in 19 hours and 45 minutes, which was not beaten till 1853, when the new " Natchez" again shortened it to 17 hours and 30 minutes. The "Princess" made the same time in 1856.

In their great race from New Orleans to St. Louis in 1870 the "Natchez" and "Robert E. Lee " both set the pegs at 16 hours, 36 minutes and 47 seconds.

No steamboat race ever excited so much interest throughout the civilized world as that which took place between the "Robert E. Lee" and "Natchez" in June, 1870, from New Orleans to St. Louis. On the 24th of that month Capt. T. P. Leathers telegraphed Capt. Perry Tharp of this city, that the " Natchez " had arrived at St. Louis, having overcome the distance from New Orleans, 1,278 miles, in 3 days, 21 hours and 58 minutes. From the time that she was built at Cincinnati much rivalry in regard to speed had been exhibited between her and the "Robert E. Lee," which was built at New Albany during the war, and was towed across the river to the Kentucky side to have her name painted on the wheel-houses, a measure of safety that was deemed prudent at that exciting time. Capt. John W. Cannon commanded the "Lee," and Capt. Thomas P. Leathers, owner of the present "Natchez" and her half-dozen or more predecessors of the same name, commanded the "Natchez" of that time. Both were experienced steamboatmen, but, as the sequel proved, Capt, Cannon was the better strategist. While each boat had its special corps of friends, the name of the " Robert E. Lee " was the most honored and most popular along the Mississippi river.

Before the return of the " Natchez " to New Orleans, Capt. Cannon had determined that the "Lee" should beat the record of her rival, the fastest that had ever been made over the course. He stripped the " Lee " for the race ; and removed all parts of her upper works that were calculated to catch the wind, removed all rigging and outfit that could be dispensed with to lighten her, as the river was low in some places ; engaged the steamer " Frank Pargoud " to precede her a hundred miles up the river to supply coal; arranged with coalyards to have fuel-flats awaiting her in the middle of the river at given points to be taken in tow under way until the coal could be transferred to the deck of the "Lee," and then to be cut loose and float back. He refused all business of every kind, and would receive no passengers.

The " Natchez " returned to New Orleans and received a few hundred tons of freight and also a few passengers, and was advertised to leave again for St. Louis, June 30. At 5 o'clock in the afternoon the " Robert E. Lee " backed out from the levee, and five minutes later the "Natchez " followed her, but without such elaborate preparation for a race as has been made on the "Lee," Capt. Leathers feeling confident that he could pass the latter within the first 100 miles.

A steamer had preceded the racing boats up the river many miles to witness all that could be seen of the great race that was to be. The telegraph informed the people along both banks of the river and the world at large of the coming great struggle for supremacy in point of speed, and the world looked on with as much interest as it would had it been an event local to every part of it. Wherever there was human habitation the people collected on the bank of the mighty river to observe the passage of the two steamers. The "Lee" gained slightly every hundred miles as the race progressed, which gain at Natchez, three hundred miles from the starting point, amounted to ten minutes, attributable more to landings that had been made by the "Natchez " for fuel than anything else. The people of the whole city of Natchez viewed the race. At the bend at Vicksburg, although the two steamers were ten miles apart by the course of the river, the smoke of each was plainly discernible from the other. Thousands of people were congregated on the bluffs. At Helena and other points it seemed that the population for miles back from the river had turned out to witness the greatest race of this or any other age.

At Memphis ten thousand people looked at the passing steamers, neither of which landed, the "Natchez " by this time having adopted the "Lee's " method of receiving fuel. At every point where there was a telegraph instrument the hour and the minute of the passing steamers were ticked to all points of America that could be reached, and newspapers throughout the country displayed bulletins denoting the progress of the boats.

The time of passing Memphis, Vicksburg and Cairo was cabled to Europe. When Cairo w&§

reached the race was virtually ended, but the "Lee" proceeded to St. Louis, arriving there in three days, eighteen hours and fourteen minutes from the time she left New Orleans, beating by thirty-three minutes the previous time of the " Natchez." The latter steamer had grounded and run into a fog between Memphis and Cairo, which detained her more than six hours.

When the "Lee" arrived at St. Louis, thirty thousand people crowded the wharf, the windows and the housetops to receive her. No similar event had ever created so much excitement. Capt. Cannon was tendered a banquet by the business men of the city, and was generally lionized while he remained there. It was estimated that more than $1,000,000 had been wagered on the race by the friends of the two steamers. Many of the bets were drawn, on the ground that the "Lee "had been assisted the first one hundred miles by the power of the "Frank Pargoud" added to her own; and men of the coolest judgment have ever since regarded the "Natchez " as the faster boat, but out-generaled by the commander of the other.



The old Metairie race-course, which now figures in the Metairie Cemetery, was thirty years ago the most famous course in the United States. The rules governing it were generally accepted throughout the Union, and were adopted by all the other Southern courses in circuits.

The brightest episodes of the history of the turf in New Orleans occurred before 1855, previous to which there were five courses, upon all of which the music of flying feet was regularly heard with each succeeding year. There was the Eclipse Course at Carrollton, which has not been used since 1845 ; the Metairie, famed as the scene of Lexington's great victory; the Binga-man Course, over in Algiers ; the Louisiana Course, on the Hopkins plantation, about twelve miles below the city ; and the Union Course, now the Louisiana Jockey Club Course, and the only one now in existence as a course.

Each year, just previous to the spring and fall meetings, people from all parts of the South and West flocked to New Orleans to participate in the excitements of the races and the gayeties and festivities which were incident thereto. In those days the rotunda on the ground floor of the old St. Charles Hotel was the general rendezvous where gentlemen met to discuss the merits of the different horses and to make their bets—pool-selling not having been invented.

Among the throng who nightly gathered there were Colonel Wm. Johnson, the Napoleon of the turf; Colonel A. L. Bingaman, Colonel Jeff. Wells, Dr. Merritt, Y. N. Oliver, Duncan F. Kenner. Captain W. J. Minor, the brothers Lecompte (Goldsby and Kirkman), Colonel McWhorter, Colonel Westmore, Jim Valentine, Dr. J. W. Weldon, John L. Cassidy, Alexander Porter, James Cage, H. P. McGrath, Captain T. G. Moore, old Dr. Burke, John G. Cox, Dick Ten Broeck, Bondy Poindexter, Scruggs, and a host of others, most of whom are lying under the green turf.

As may be imagined, there was a delightful babel in the rotunda every evening, and what with anecdotes, horse talk, bets and coruscations of wit—for some of the gentlemen named above were 6ne scholars and brilliant conversationalists—the hours wore pleasantly away.

In these good old ante-bellum days, when horse-racing was pursued purely as an amusement, and not as a means for accumulating fortunes, turfmen, unlike the proprietors of the equine heroes of to-day, took a personal interest in rearing blooded stock, and were thorough judges of horse-flesh and accomplished riders.

At one of the race meetings at the Metairie, a discussion arose as to the merits of some of the horses that participated in a race the previous day, and one of the owners of a beaten horse, Colonel Wells, remarked if he had ridden his horse he could have won the race. Duncan • F. Kenner, who owned the winner, being somewhat nettled at this statement, proposed that ■ they should enter the same horses for a sweepstake of $1,000 each, two mile heats, gentlemen riders, Kenner stipulating that he would ride his horse if Colonel Wells would ride his. This proposition was eagerly accepted and the race was duly arranged; a third horse to be ridden by an English gentleman, Mr. Holland, being entered, making the stakes $3,000.

The day fixed for the race arrived, and as each of the gentlemen had hosts of friends in the city, there was an immense and excited concourse present to witness the performance of their favorites. Betting ran high, and there was much chaffing and fun at the expense of the riders among the throng that swarmed upon the quarter stretch.

Old Dr. Burke, who always took the long chances on betting, observing the English gentleman, with a fine jockey suit of crimson jacket, white corduroys, patent leather, tasseled-top boots, etc., remarked in his quaint way and loud enough to be overheard by the gentleman him-

self: " I'll bet five dollars to a hundred that the fellow with the shiny boots falls off." The Englishman, with true British pluck, strode up to the Doctor and said, "I'll take that bet, sir," and offered to put up the money. The Doctor responded and handed his five over, saying: " You hold the stakes, sir."

A good send-off was had, and the three contestants dashed down the quarter stretch, each rider sitting his horse quite gallantly, until making the turn, when the Englishman's inside stirrup breaking, he fell from his horse, which galloped round without him. Dr. Burke, who was intently watching the race, drew a long breath, and, turning to the crowd, raised his spectacles until they rested on his wrinkled brow, and exclaimed, to the amusement of the bystanders : " 1knowed it /" as if he had previously arranged the affair, and the result was a matter of course.

The heat was won by Colonel Wells, and both riders being pretty well used up, they retired to the weighing room, where they stretched themselves on benches to recuperate. Graves, the well-known trainer of Kenner's stable, and a famous rider in his day, upbraided Mr. Kenner for not riding with more skill, and said : " If you can't do better, I'll get up and ride myself."

Old Hark, trainer of Colonel Wells' stable, and who afterwards trained the celebrated Lecompte, congratulated his employer on his success, and remarked, in his patronizing way: "All you got to do, Colonel, is to hold your horse well together, and you wins this "ace, sure."

Wells, who was still puffing and blowing from the unwonted exertion, said, " Don't bother me, Hark; I wouldn't ride another heat for $10,000." Kenner, who was pretty well exhausted himself, and who had not the remotest idea of riding another heat, thought this an excellent opportunity to try a little game of bluff, and springing nimbly up, he said, "I'm ready now for the next heat," thinking to get a walk-over.

After considerable diplomacy on both sides, it was agreed to postpone the race to some future day, and when it came off, it was finally won by Kenner's Richard of York—old jockeys riding.


The enthusiasm and excitement in race matters culminated during the celebrated contest between those giants of the turf, Lexington and Lecompte, both foaled in Kentucky, near that famous centre of the Blue Grass country, Lexington. Lecompte was brought South as soon as weaned, and raised on Colonel Jeff. Wells' plantation, on the Red River, while Lexington was raised by Dr. Warfield, near Lexington. Both were winners of colt stakes when two years old, Lexington running under the name of "Darley." In their subsequent encounters they made such fame for themselves that the friends of each looked forward eagerly to their meeting in the great Post Stake State race over the Metairie, for which they were both entered as representatives, respectively, of Kentucky and Mississippi, Highlander being entered for Alabama and Arrow for Louisiana.

The city was crowded with people who came from all sections to witness this great contest between the most noted thoroughbreds in America. Each horse had its host of friends and backers, and the night previous to the race the rotunda of the St. Charles Hotel resembled a vast bee-hive. Betting ran up to enormous figures, and the whole town was perfectly ablaze with excitement. Even the newsboys made their little wagers, based on prospective sales, and livery stable-keepers and cabmen were in a seventh heaven of ecstasy.

The prices for cabs and carriages were enormous, and it is safe to assert that not a human being who could possibly help himself remained in town when the momentous Saturday arrived. The track was quite sloppy from recent rains, and hence slow time was anticipated.

Highlander having come here with immense reputation, $10,000 having been paid for him by the Alabama party, expressly for this race, had the call in the betting, though no odds were offered.

Lexington was the second favorite, and there was considerable betting as between him and Highlander.

The race was four-mile heats, twelve subscribers, three for each State, $5,000 p. p.—total, $20,000 ; each horse to get $1,000, if not distanced.

The drum tapped at a good start, Lexington taking the lead, never was headed, and finished winning easily by four lengths, with something to spare ; Lecompte second, Highlander third, and Arrow distanced. Time, 8.08%. The result of this heat caused a perfect furore and consid-able change in the betting, $100 to $60 being offered on Lexington against the field ; Highlander's friends, however, still sanguine, believing that he had not been put to his mettle. • In the second heat, Highlander took the lead, and forced the running; Lexington close up. On the back stretch, in the second mile, Lecompte took the lead, and kept it throughout the third mile; Lexington second.

In the fourth mile, in the back stretch, the Kentucky champion went up and ran deadlocked with Lecompte, Highlander distanced well up in the home stretch, Lexington winning the heat and race by several lengths, amid tremendous cheering; time 8.04. The last mile was the fastest, being made in 1.49, which was excellent, considering the wretched condition of the track.

The varying chances of this race, the immense amount at stake, and the interest manifested by every one present—among whom, by the way, was ex-President Fillmore—rendered it one of the most remarkable in turf annals. The 1st of April, 1854, \, .11 not soon be forgotten by any of the vast concourse that assembled to witness the contest of the two illustrious sons of Boston.

The result of this race caused a vast deal of speculation as to the next meeting of Lexington and Lecompte, which was anticipated on the succeeding Saturday, the great four-mile day, a purse of $2,000 having been advertised by the Metairie Jockey Club.

These anticipations were realized, and when Saturday, the 8th of April came, the two rivals and Rube appeared to contest the honors. Lexington was largely the favorite, and much money was bet on time, 7.32 being the lowest marked. The track was in tip-top condition. To the utter amazement of all and consternation of many, Colonel Wells' gallant steed won the heat with ease, taking the lead from the start and keeping it throughout, Lexington a good second. The time was unprecedented—7.26, being six seconds and a half better than Fashion's celebrated time when she ran with Boston.

In the second heat Lexington forced the running, taking the lead for two miles, but Lecompte passed him going into the third mile, which was made in 1.46. It may be noted just here that Lexington lost his stride going into the fourth mile, being checked up by his rider who thought the race was over. He immediately recovered, and closing the gap which had been opened on him, made a splendid struggle for the heat, which, however, Lecompte won by several lengths, thus scoring a victory over his great rival in 7.38|, making the two best consecutive heats on record, Fashion's being 7.32£ and 7.45, and George Martin's 7.33 and 7.43.

After the above extraordinary race, Mr. Ten Broeck, who, had purchased Lexington immediately after the Post Stake, being muoh nettled, offered to run Lexington against Lecompte's 7.26 time for $10,000, race to take place between the 1st and 15th of April, 1855, over the Metairie Course, he to have two chances ; Arrow to be substituted should Lexington be out of fix.

This challenge was accepted by Colonel Calvin Green and Captain John Belcher, of Virginia. The race accordingly came off on the 2d of April, 1855, the track being in superb condition, and the greatest crowd present that ever assembled at the Metairie.

When Lexington appeared, with Gilpatrick on his back, he looked the very picture of a race horse, and Ben Pryor, his trainer, received and deserved many compliments for the horse's condition. The betting changed from $100 to $80, to two to one, in favor of Lexington.

The great antagonist against time took a running start from the draw-gates, and passed the stand under full headway, with the horse Joe Blackburn to urge him on. At the second mile Blackburn was withdrawn, and Arrow was shot after him, running two miles

when Blackburn took up the chase, but never got near enough for Lexington to hear him. As the magnificent horse sped onward, and it became apparent that he would win, the excitement was immense, and finally when he dashed under the string in the marvelous time of 7.19}, the welkin fairly rang again, and Lexington regarded the tumultuous throng with something of pardonable pride. The first mile was 1.47}, the second 1.52}, the third 1.51}, and the fourth 1.48}.

This exploit of Lexington's aroused the pride of the Red River party, who still thought Lecompte the better horse, and they proposed that the two horses should start in the club purse, $1,000, with an inside stake of $2,500, to oome off on the following Saturday, April 14th, 1855, which was eagerly accepted by Mr. Ten Broeck.

The story of this race, which aroused more excitement than any of the previous contests, and which caused more bitter discussions and hard feelings than any turf event, is soon told.

Lexington was the favorite at odds of 100 to 90, which odds, however, were eagerly taken by Lecompte's backers. At the start Lexington had the track, and for two miles and three quarters they ran side by side, amid tremendous cheering. Coming down the stretch in the third mile, Lexington went to the front and passed the string in the lead. Lecompte gradually closed on him in the back stretch, but at the half-mile post Lexington drew away from him, opening a wide gap to the finish, and winning with great ease in 7.23%.

Lecompte, after the heat, looked very much distressed, had cut his hocks and pasterns with his plates, and his owner, Colonel Wells, asked and received permission to withdraw him. The friends of the beaten horse asserted that he had been out of condition, and there were ugly rumors of poisoning, which, however, were never substantiated.

Mr. Ten Broeck subsequently bought Lecompte under the following circumstances :

Colonel Wells, after the defeat of Lecompte, was thoroughly impressed with the idea that his horse had been poisoned, and named a filly he had by Sovereign, out of Reel, the dam of Lecompte, "Poison," as an expression of that idea. After a race over Mr. Ten Broeck's course, in which Poison was the winner, Mr. Ten Broeck offered Colonel Wells $15,000 for Poison and Lecompte, which offer was accepted, and the name of the filly was changed at once to Pryoress, in compliment to Ben Pry or, the trainer of Lexington. They were both taken to England, where Lecompte died shortly after his arrival.

Lexington subsequently went blind, and was sold to Mr. R. A. Alexander, of Kentucky, for $15,000. His purchaser was twitted for buying a blind horse, but replied that he would sell one of Lexington's get for more money, and in the spring of 1864 he sold Norfolk to Mr. Winter, of California, for $15,000.

The blind old monarch, whose royal blood courses in the veins of thousands of the best racehorses in America, and who numbers among his progeny such turf heroes as Tom Bowling, Monarchist, Harry Basset, Asteroid, Norfolk, Lightning, Preakness, Bayonet, Kentucky, Idle-wild, Bettie Ward and Annie Bush, lived to over twenty years of age.




Both hunting and fishing are favorite amusements in New Orleans. No city in the Union can offer such advantages as the Crescent City in this respect. Surrounded as it is on all sides by an uninhabited swamp, such game as ducks and snipe, and all varieties of fish, both fresh and salt water, are to be caught within the city limits.

A favorite sport is alligator hunting. There are not as many alligators in the suburbs of New Orleans as there were before the skins of the mighty saurians became commercial commodity, and hunters went to work to kill them as a profession ; but there are still enough to furnish the sportsman with plenty of good game. You will have no difficulty in finding as many alligators as you want in the innumerable bayous and lakes just back of Algiers. The discovery will do you little good, however, unless you know exactly how to hunt the alligator. Hunt them by night in a pirogue—a boat hewn from a solid log—paddled by a skilled swamper. The boat glides noiselessly through the water. A torch throws a glare of light ahead and shows you the sparkling eye of the alligator. Fire straight at it, and if you are any marksman the game is bagged, and the "bull," after frothing the water, will roll with its white belly upward.

The scene is impressive, and will fix itself indelibly in your memory. A small canoe, propelled by the paddle of a brawny African, is gliding noiselessly through the water, stagnant and covered with a thick, green scum. The mournful decaying cypresses, fit emblems of death, dip their gray moss-threads in the water. All around is gloom and melancholy, desolation and darkness, but ahead upon the stygian waters flickers here and there a star. It is the eye of an alligator ; and as you get nearer you discern the ugly head of the repulsive animal. Dore never drew anything more striking than this picture would be.

There is no game, however, more constant and more attractive than the duck. The Gulf coast and the shores of Lake Pontchartrain.are his natural winter home. Here everything is offered him and in profusion, seaweed, insects, aquatic plants in such abundance, that the greedy bird often falls a victim to his gluttony.

When, last winter, one of the lagoons, deemed by the jeunesse de la chasse an especial)/ good place for ducks, was found covered with several hundred of these dead bodies, a cry of'indignation went up against the professional hunters, who were charged with having, Borgia-like, poisoned the ducks in order to spoil the sport of the amateur, until it was discovered that the ducks had actually choked themselves to death with seaweed—there was so much of it.

Of the ducks which frequent the waters of Louisiana, there is an endless variety: buffle-jjheads, canvas-backs, harlequins, mallards or French, the lai'gest, choicest and most hunted, pentails, teal—fishy and not often palatable—spoonbills, grey ducks, widgeons, wood ducks and perhaps a half a hundred more.

And you can hunt them in as many different ways. Many sportsmen have little hunting lodges of palmetto leaves and swamp grass scattered among some favorite lagoons, and looking so much like the surrounding marsh that even the most suspicious and knowing of the web-footed race would never detect them. To this cabin the hunter repairs over night, while the ducks are snoring way in the bulrushes, and here reclining comfortably upon a bed of straw he waits patiently until daylight offers him a good shot.

Decoys are generally used to attract the wary birds, and every good hunter has a bag of them. As soon as these wooden ducks are sent swimming in the water a flock of their brethren

of the air swoop down among them, gobbling and quacking; and just as they alight upon the water, and before they have time to discover the character of the decoys, fire is opened upon them with deadly effect.

Knowing Nimrods have their own boats, decoys, etc., and a paddler, in readiness upon their arrival. Frequently they take with them two live tame (puddle) ducks, which they put down in the water and tie by the leg to a bush nearby, which proves a decoy dangerous to the most wary of the veterans of the lagoons, who learn, towards the end of the season, how to distinguish between wooden ducks and live ducks. A good sportsman thus equipped on a fair day will get fifty to seventy-five shots.

On the prairies near Opelousas and Yermillionville, La., there are innumerable small ponds to be found, in which, during the winter months, are to be seen great numbers of ducks. Ko trees or cover of any kind to conceal the sportsman exists, and the hunter procures an old ox, trained for the purpose, and to stand fire. Getting on the off side of the ox—that is, placing the ox between the ducks and himself—the sportsman is enabled to get within gunshot of the game quite easily. He gives a loud whoop when the ducks take to wing, and then gives them both barrels; and should the ducks be teal or of the smaller varieties, he will get out of a large flock some twenty-five to fifty ducks.

Fire hunting is also very successful with the ducks. A lighted torch attracts them as a candle does the moths, and they are so dazzled and bewitched that they allow the hunters to approach within very close range of them.

Still another mode of catching the ducks—one much used of old in the Chandeleurs, and st.11 occasionally employed there—is by means of nets, stretched at nightfall from bay to bay and point to point, directly in the course of the ducks' flight, and into which they plunge in their rapid flight to some favorite lagoon, and are caught.

Nearly every sportsman has his special hunting ground, but all Lower Louisiana is good— the best points being the Chandeleurs, and neighboring islands, the gulf coast of St. Bernard and Plaquemines, Lakes Pontchartrain and Catherine, and the various bayous and lagoons surrounding New Orleans on every side.

The snipe grounds are much the same, but the best snipe are killed at Barataria, the haunt of Lafitte, the pirate and patriot; the jack-snipe from that locality being deemed as much a delicacy as Baltimore terrapin and canvas back. Beside these, are the grey, red-breasted, red-back—which hover around a companion when shot, giving the hunter a splendid opportunity to open on them again with his reserve fire ; the Creole snipe, sunderling, hulet and stone snipe, not to mention the grassets, papabottes and woodcock.

On the prairie, west of New Orleans, nearly all varieties of grouse, generally called Creole quails, in Louisiana, are to be found—the heather cock or pine grouse, very much like the Alpine auerhahn, a fine table bird with a slight pine flavor, which adds to its gamey taste, the ruffled grouse, and the prairie hen—but grouse hunting not being as exciting as hunting ducks, is far less popular.

Within one hundred miles from New Orleans, on any of the railroads, bear, turkey, squirrel, deer and quail can be found, and on application to any of the gun stores in the city the location will be given you, when to go, and all the information in regard to outfit, etc., etc.


Fishing is in equal favor, and during the season every train takes out large parties of fishermen. Along the line of the Mobile road there are many places where good sport can be had. One can pack up his little kit containing lunch, bait, rod and line the night before and, rising with the sun, can board the train and in two hours be on his fishing grounds, ready for work-There is much diversity among amateurs as to the respective merits of the several places on the Mobile road, and it is safe to put down that they are all good, if wind and weather be favorable. The first place that merits the reputation it has so long had is Chef Menteur, twenty

miles from the city, on the route to Mobile. The sportsmen, upon arrival there, can call upon any of the professional fishermen in the neighborhood—there are two or three living immediately at the station—and secure a boat and meals for SI. A negro guide or paddler will charge about $1.50 for a day's work, and this is all the expense. Trout and red fish abound at the mouth of the Chef, and bite well. Sheephead and croakers are also plentiful, and along the edges of the bayous there the perch bite almost as fast as the hook is dropped into the water. The accommodations are good, and the amateur will be well repaid for his visit. The next place is Miller's Bayou, twenty-seven miles from here, on the same road. Here Mrs. Miller, the widow of the famous professional hunter, keeps a lodge, where one can make his headquarters comfortably. A good boat, with meals, costs only $1, and if the sportsman does not know how to paddle a pirogue or row a skiff, a guide can be had for $1.50 per day, who will carry him to the best places. In Lake Catherine—only 200 yards from Mrs. Miller's house—redfish and sheephead are abundant. The next favorite place is Lookout Station, about thirty-seven miles from the city. At this spot are erected the fishing and hunting boxes of the wealthy private clubs, and a visitor must carry all his accommodations with him, as none can be had on the spot. One, perchance, might get a boat and guide there, but it is not at all certain, as the private clubs occupy most of the waters. A few miles this side of Lookout is another place that merits notice. It is the strait connecting Lake Pontchartrain with the sound called the Rigolets, which is thirty-one miles on the same road. Very good fishing is to be had here. There is no place to secure boat-5 there, and the amateur must content himself with fishing off the bridge. One can secure meals at the station master's, just this side of the bridge, but they are not prepared for many guests. The Rigolets was once a famous place for hook and line, and, barring the lack of facilities, is still a fine locality for sport.

Beyond these places come Bay St. Louis, Pass Christian, Mississippi City, Biloxi, and Ocean Springs, well known to all as good grounds for fish, but too far distant for one to enjoy sport and return the same day.

Taking next the Jackson road, the seeker after a day's enjoyment, should get off at Pass Manohac bridge, where he can get a boat to carry him out into North Pass, which connects Lake Maurepas with Lake Pontchartrain, where magnificent trout, perch and sackalait and striped bass can be had. There are no accommodations there, and the party must carry their provisions with them. Near the above is Middle Bayou, which excels North Pass in the quantity of the finny tribes found there. It is four miles from North Pass bridge, and affords all the sports one could desire. After a day there, one catches the evening train, with a well filled basket. The only drawback is the lack of comfortable quarters.

In that direction, that is on the western shore of Lake Pontchartrain, is the Tangipahoa River, which can only be reached by sailboat from here ; at least, that portion of it where the fishing is superb.

It is, to use an old fisherman's phrase, "the boss place around these diggings," for green trout. In low tides artificial baits work well here. The mouth of the river enters the lake about thirty-five miles north-northeast from the West End, and a party starting in a sailboat the evening before reaches the spot in time to make a good catch and get back the next afternoon. There are no accommodations there, so that everything will have to be taken on board before starting.

Coming nearer home we have Bayou Laurier, about four and a half miles to the westward of West End, where sheephead, trout, perch and sacalait can be found. Of late, however, fishermen have been in the habit of gill netting here, and the fish are not as abundant as they should be. One need not expect to find any quarters there. Next is Bayou Labarre. two and a half miles from West End, which is of the same character as Bayou Laurier, and then nearer is Bayou Tchoupitoulas, a sister stream to the others. A skiff or sailboat is taken to reach the above.

Across the river there is Harvey's Canal, to be reached by the ferry at the head of Louisi-

ana avenue, a well known resort of the largest perch. A boat and a man to pull one down the canal to Bayou Barataria costs $2 50 a day. Below the city is the Ship Island Canal, twelve miles from the slaughter-house. It runs from a spot close to the river out into Lake Borgne, and at its mouth redfish, sheephead, trout and croakers abound.

Bait for all of our fish can readily be had. They consist of minnows and shrimp, and crab, if the two former are not at at hand. All of them will take either of the above greedily.

The outfit can be as expensive as one likes. For $2 55 a very handsome get-up can be had, consisting of jointed rod, hooks, sinkers, floats and fifty yards of excellent line. For seventy-five cents a cheaper outfit can be had, a Japan pole taking the place of the more costly jointed rod.

With these data before him, the seeker after a quiet day cannot go wrong.

The Gulf of Mexico, the Mississippi river, the lakes and bayous, abound in fish of the greatest variety; and Louisiana produces not only the greatest abundance of delicious fish for home consumption, but she has also sufficient to establish a large export trade. Amongst the important varieties of fish found in the waters of Louisiana may be mentioned : Rockfish, grouper, black-fish, trout, maw-mouth, perch and chub, flying fish, yellowtail, bass, whiting, drum, young drum, croaker, sheephead, porgee, angelfish, Spanish mackerel, spring mackerel, pompano, mullet, salt water catfish, fresh water catfish, plaice and flounder, salt water eel and fresh water eel.

To give an idea of the mode of fishing, let us select representative specimens of the two varieties of fish, fresh and salt water, such as the red fish and green trout.

The redfish belongs to one of the divisions of the drum species. Of this species the common drumfish is the largest found in Southern waters, while the familiar little croaker is the smallest cousin of the family, The species is named from a singular noise made by ail these fish, which is a weak croak in the diminutive croaker, while when uttered by the larger specimens it is precisely similar to a distant drum-beat.

Drumfish, redfish and croakers commence their strange drumming immediately after they are caught. They also often practice their music when swimming in schools, and sound it as a note of alarm when fleeing from larger fish. Certain mysterious noises, which, issuing from the sea, long puzzled and perplexed the inhabitants of the Louisiana coast, have finally and most plausibly been attributed to the croaking and drumming of immense schools of fish of this species.

The greatest size attained by the redfish is a matter of dispute. The largest probably ever seen near New Orleans, was a specimen captured in East Bay, a few miles from the South Pass lighthouse, in the latter part of April, 1876. The dimensions of this, as nearly as could be estimated after a close inspection, were, length over four and a half feet, breadth about oae foot, and weight certainly over seventy-five pounds. This fish was captured by a veteran professional, who called it " a long ways the biggest red fish 11 he ever saw. Such of these fish as are caught out in deep water average a larger size than those captured in the numerous bayous and indentations of our coast. Usually a thirty pounder is considered a pretty fair specimen of the fish in any waters. A fish of that weight is generally a little more than three feet in length. When of this size, however, the meat is tough and coarse; hence favorite sizes of the fish are those varying from five to fifteen pounds in weight.

The colors of the redfish are at times very brilliant, and are always very variable, being affected by the same causes which change the hues of many other fish. These causes are generally considered to be presence of foreign matter in the water, variations in temperature and seasons, and various degrees of activity on the part of the fish. When the fish are at their best, and when their surroundings are particularly favorable, or the water clear, bottom hard or shelly, and feeding grounds good, the red on their backs and sides assumes a beautiful brilliancy, and the white becomes exceedingly bright. At times the coloring of the male is simply magnificent, and the crimson of the back merges into rich golden lines along the sides. Following the same rule as that set down in the creation of other fishes, the female is much

less prominently and distinctly marked than is the male. The fishes of both sexes have a jet black spot on each side near the tail, while occasional specimens have been caught with several of these spots on them in a line from the pectoral fins to the tail. Some of our amateur fishermen have decided this to be the fish from whose mouth the Apostles obtained pieces of money. It is stated that when these ancient fishermen picked up the fishes by the tails and shook the money from their mouths they left the noted black spot on the tail of each fish as a mark for succeeding generations of fishes to reverentially note and praise. We cannot vouch for the truth of the foregoing assertion, and do not wish to impose it on the skeptically inclined as a matter of fact without presenting with it sufficient corroborative evidence to make it worthy of general credence. After its capture the colors of the redfish rapidly fade. Hence those that have only seen them hanging up on hooks in the fish-stalls can form no idea of the beauty of these same specimens when first taken from their native element.

The habitat of this fish seems to be confined to southern latitudes. In all the bays and indentations of the Gulf and in the salt-water bayous near the sea they are to be found at nearly all seasons of the year in great abundance. Near most of the Gulf islands they are numerous, but shell reefs and shell banks, which abound in numerous places along and near the seaboard, are their favorite haunts, and to these places the professional fishermen usually resort to secure most of the redfish which are sold in our markets.

The capture of redfish is effected by various methods, according to the inclination or purpose of their captors. Some of the professionals have stock ownerships in immense seines, which are used in the shoal water near the coast islands or in the shallow land-locked bays. This seining business, though successful for a time, has almost succeeded in driving the redfish away from some of our bays which were formerly their favorite resorts. At one time the fishing near Grand Isle, Grand Terre and other coast islands was almost ruined by the frequent and persistent seining there carried on. W T here other professionals follow the fishing business singly, or in small squads, they use long trot lines, which often contain several hundred hooks baited with small mullet. This is a much less destructive way of fishing than seining, while it is often made a source of greater profit to those who follow it.

The amateur fisherman is supposed to be actuated in the enjoyment of this recreation, as well as of all others similar to it, by his pure love for sport, while he is naturally not endowed with the bump of destructiveness. At all events, most cf them who go fishing are in the habit of leaving enough fish in the water to breed from. Hence, with commendable abhorrence, he eschews the barbarous business of seine-dredging, or the dull routine of relieving self-impaled fish from the numberless hooks of a trot line. If he chooses to fish in open sea water, following the example of other successful anglers, he generally provides himself with about fifty fathoms of reliable hempen line, of about one-sixth of an inch in diameter. At the end of this is attached a light lead to throw and anchor, while above the lead are two or three hooks of a proper size, neatly baited with prawn, or sea shrimp, if obtainable. In the absence of prawn, pieces of crab or young mullet will answer very well for bait. In procuring these different baits a light cast-net is almost indispensable, as is, also, the presence of a party who is proficient in throwing it, which proficiency is only acquired after long and patient practice. A novice in the use of the castnet either catches himself at every attempt to throw or else batters his head most mercilessly with the net leads until he is compelled to desist and wait to learn by degrees. In throwing the line of fifty fathoms it is impossible to pay out its full length ; but the part of the coil which remains in shore or on board, as the case may be, should be made snug and ready to pay away in case of emergency. This emergency arises when an extra heavy fish has struck; if a shark, which is often the case, three will be no need of assistance in paying out; but if a thirty-pound redfish strikes, a little' paying out is often necessitated, as the pull is heavy and the pace hard. Thoroughly scientific fishermen sometimes add a short rod and a reel to this long-line tackle, but others well up in the art, and equally successful, deem these additions too cumber-gome and altogether unnecessary,

In fishing in our deep salt-water bayous for redfish, the best tackle to use, according to anglers of considerable experience, consists of a tough, light and elastic rod of about eighteen feet in length, to which is fastened a slender, strong line about twenty feet long. The line is provided with a movable float, and at the end is a single hook, baited with any of the three baits previously mentioned. This tackle is good for either boat or shore fishing. It is used by some of the most successful anglers with telling effect, as many as twenty-five redfish having been caught with one line thus rigged in a few hours, while in the interval between bites numerous sheephead and sea trout were landed. In following the sport after this manner a novice would probably make poor headway, as much skill is required in handling the tackle, to prevent the breaking of either hook, line or rod. With this fishing apparatus, properly managed, twenty-five pound redfish are often safely landed. The average, however, of these fish that run in the salt bayous is not of more than ten or twelve pounds in weight. They are yet rather too small to brave the dangers of open water, and an incidental meeting with sharks and porpoises, which are the special enemies of their kind.

The pleasure of enjoying this sport is great, as is also that to be found in the capture of many other species of splendid salt-water fish. It cannot be styled an expensive recreation; for a week's, or even a month's cruise among the coast islands, could be enjoyed at such a cost as would be entailed in the renting of a four-ton lugger, the hire of a navigator and a cook, the purchase of a tent and camp equipage, with the necessary tackle and solid and liquid provisions. Altogether an unexpensive outfit for a cruise, yet all that is required, with the proper health and disposition to enjoy such an one. If an occasional run out in blue water is desirable, a larger boat would be safer, but for coasting an ordinary lugger is large enough. In a cruise of this kind the sport of fishing, which, at the start, may have been the primary object of the excursion, would soon come to be considered as only one of many pleasures afforded. Those who go once will always have cause to remember and to long for the perpetual sea breezes, the music of cool foamy billows, the soft radiance of moonlight, mingled with phosphorescent waves, and much more that there was to refresh and delight the senses; while the younger angler will never forget the gorgeous flash and glitter that rose struggling at the end of his line, while landing his first redfish.

Green trout is a misnomer for the splendid fish which is so called in New Orleans. Our famous "green trout" are not trout at all—in fact, they are in no wise connected with any of the genus salmo save in being members of the fish kind. In the ponds and streams of other Southern States it lives under the more appropriate cognomen of pond bass, and is esteemed properly as the finest fresh-water fish of the Southern States. It is found in abundance in the mill ponds, beaver ponds, and clear streams of the Gulf States, but attains its greatest size and beauty in the bayous and lakes of Lower Louisiana, from which waters specimens of the fish weighing over six pounds are sometimes taken.

Waters that are slightly brackish (though with not enough salt in them to prevent the growth of fresh-water grasses) seem to be best suited to our "green trout." In these waters where the lotus, or "grandevole," duckweed and water lily grow in profusion, these fish are found in the greatest abundance. Most of the bayous and streams tributary to Lake Pontchar-train are well stocked with them, as are also the network of bayous west of the city, which are entered by Harvey's and "the Company's" canal. Thus the habitat of this fish is easily accessible to the amateur fishermen of this city ; though the same may not be said of the fish itself, as all of our reflective " Waltons " are not possessed with the skill and proficiency in angling requisite to the capture of this wily denizen of the waters.

In the clear waters of the currentless bayous, the green trout acquires its greatest beauty in coloring and markings. In common -with a great many other species of fish, this has the chameleon-like power of modifying, even almost entirely changing, the hues of its skin. Whether this modification is effected by the fish's volition or by the surroundings, it is impossible to determine. However, in the fishing season proper, when the hues of the fish are nearer

perfection, they reach and retain their greatest vividness in bright clear water. When this same water is made turbid by a recent heavy rain-fall, or by an influx from the river, the fish rapidly loses its rich hues. Its baok turns to a dull brown, the stripe becomes almost indistinct or entirely disappears, and the bright white of its belly takes a slight tinge of yellow. The markings, in fact, undergo as great a change as that noticed by the angler between a fish which is just landed flapping on the hook, and the same fish when dead a few hours afterward.

Angling for green trout is carried on in various ways, according to the tastes and ideas of the different followers of this fine sport. The fish is a ready biter at live baits, or baits made to counterfeit life on a line skillfully handled. They will rarely ever bite at a dead bait, and will scarcely ever rise to the cast of an unskillful angler, whatever bait he uses. In the bayous west of the city they are caught by 'Cadien fishermen in the following manner : The fisherman has a long rod, on the end of which is a short line baited with a little bit of red flannel and a small bunch of mallard or teal feathers tied on two or three small hooks. The fisherman sits in the bow of a pirogue ; another man in the stern of the same boat slowly and noiselessly propels the craft with a paddle. The two having started out before sunrise, go slowly down a favorite bayou, which is partially covered with plats of duckweed or water-lily. The fisherman occasionally bobs his bait in the clear spaces among the water-grasses, while all along the bayou can be heard the snapping of the trout, goggle-eyes and perch as they capture their prey of minnows, dragon-fiies or aquatic insects. Before the fisherman in the bow of the pirogue returns, numbers of snaps will also have been made at his " bob," which the fish apparently mistakes for some clumsy insect, and striking at it is taken in. In this manner an humble fisherman often captures several dozens of splendid green trout in a single morning. On a cloudy day the sport pursued in the manner noted may be carried on all day, but in bright, clear weather it only lasts for a few hours in the morning and may be enjoyed for an hour late in the evening. The following is the most sportsmanlike manner of capturing green trout.

The angler has a slender and supple rod about fifteen feet in length, with a line about one foot shorter, or of such a length that he can swing the bait back to his right hand without the necessity of reaching for it and frightening the fish by a useless movement. The line should be delicate and strong, and should have a small float on it, the hook baited with active live minnows, which are not always easily procured, but when obtained are the most killing baits. The angler, quietly walking near the edge of the bayou, stream or pond in which he may be fishing, throws as noiselessly and with as much dexterity as possible into the most likely places, and according to his skill (taking it for granted that fish are in the water) will be repaid. In this manner the skillful angler enjoys right royal sport, and takes into little account such petty annoyances as mosquitoes, deer ticks and red bugs when he surveys the accumulating trophies of a faithful rod.

In running streams an artificial minnow is often successfully used in this fishing. The little metallic fins of the minnow are set at angles like the blades of a propeller. The bait is thus turned by the current and appears to the untutored piscine eye as a natural minnow, frantically wriggling about, ana is taken in on sight with unfortunate consequences. The most telling baits of this sort are made of silver, and may be used for a great length of time. Live minnows or counterfeit minnows are good bait for fishing at all seasons of the year except in cold weather. Artificial dragon flies, butterflies and aquatic insects of various kinds are successfully used by many expert anglers during the season for fly fishing, but even in that season these counterfeits cannot always be safely relied on. There is probably more thorough enjoyment in successful green trout fishing than in any of the sports of field and flood that are enjoyed by amateurs in this part of the country. It comes at a time when most other sports of the kind are out of season, when the skies are brightest and the temperature most pleasant; when the foliage is green, flowers are first blooming, and before the mosquitoes fully wake up.



If we are to believe the early French naturalists who wrote on Louisiana, the country around New Orleans produced the greatest botanical wonders the world has ever known. It was in medicinal plants that it most luxuriated, and for every disease that prevails in Louisiana, a vegetable remedy was to be found close at hand.

Among the medicinal plants, MM. Bossu and Perrin du Lac, both bear testimony to the miraculous cures of the viperine, ratine a begnet, goat's tongue, or fritter-root. The plant still flourishes in the forests around New Orleans, but has, somehow, lost its curative properties and no longer bids the sick man "take up his bed and walk," unless it be the constituent of the many panaceas, and patent medicines and bitters that now-a-day cure, so illogically, the most contradictorydiseases.

Both of these gentlemen, "and they are all, all honorable men," give instances of the almost miraculous cures worked by this root. It was only necessary to drop a little of its juice upon a wound, and it closed up immediately, leaving scarcely a scar to recall its memory.

M. Du Lac narrates, in particular, how an Indian, wounded in a battle—knowing that if he halted he would fall a victim to the enemy's cruelty, kept on retreating despite his wounds, chewing, as he ran, this root, and occasionally putting some of it upon his many wounds. Thus he continued, running over sixty miles before he stopped, and when at last he halted, it was to find his wounds completely healed.

Not only was the poor savage protected against wounds, but he could even defy fire; in fact, seemed free from all the weaknesses of humanity.

M. Du Lac and several others tell us of the virtues of the savoyanne root. The savoyanne had pretty much the same peculiarities as the fabled salamander—only a little more so. It was a safeguard and a cure for all burns, scalds, etc. Bathed in its juice, one could boldly put his arm into the fire, like Scsevola, or walk around like Mesheck in the fiery furnace, without the least unpleasant result.

This was no " Grecian fable"; no second-handed story picked up by him; M. Du Lac had seen its wonders himself. He was invited to a council of the Indians. Proceedings were commenced with a friendly pipe all around. When this was completed, the Grand Sun, the great chief ordered enormous goblets of boiling bear's grease, on fire, brought in, which Plutonian liquid the savages swallowed with great gusto, rolling their eyes and winking knowingly, as if they mightily enjoyed this novel pousse-cafe. A course of red-hot coals followed, which they chewed up with apparent gusto, gazing all the while at the Frenchman to see if he was sufficiently astounded at them and their eccentric diet.

They had succeeded. The Frenchman was absolutely horrified and begged for an explanation. It was the Great Manitou, the savages insisted, that enabled them to be fire-eaters, and they proposed that he should at once adopt their faith and discard his former religion and breeches. This, how r ever, he politely declined, with thanks.

This so-called Manitou he subsequently identified as a root, savoyanne, whose juice protected a man from any injury by fire.

He found also another plant of the same order which had the effect of solidifying water. This plant, M. Baudry des Lozieres (First Voyage to Louisiana, page 175), also saw, so that there can be no question about its actual existence and power. M. des Lozieres calls it a grass, and


says it was known to the Creoles here by the name of semper virem, or evergreen, and that a single drop of its juice, dropped into a cup of water, immediately froze it.

But greatest of all in the vegetable kingdom—as man is greatest in the world—was the man-plant {homme-plante). This plant was only once seen in Louisiana, or, for that matter, only once seen in the world. M. B. des Lozieres, who gives the only account extant of it, did not see it himself, but got the story direct from Don Martin Novar, Governor of Louisiana.

Some Galician laborers were digging a ditch near the city, when suddenly one of them turned up with his spade something white. A closer glance at it showed him and his comrades that it was a corpse, the body of one who had evidently once been a beautiful girl. The laborers were quite horrified when a dozen more bodies of men, women and children were unearthed, all in a perfect state of preservation. Alarmed at this discovery of what they supposed to be the victims of Indian barbarity, the laborers ran off for help. What was their surprise when they returned to find visible and unmistakable signs of life in the bodies. They had been buried alive !

Restoratives were about being appiied when one of the men, who had been more inquisitive than the others, announced that they were not bodies after all, but simply plants, and so it proved ; and the Spaniards cannibalistically devoured these roots, with the exception of a few sent to New Orleans as curiosities, and declared them excellent.

"These strange plants." writes M. Baudry des Lozieres (Second Voyage to Louisiana, vol. 2, pages 304 seq.), "bore some resemblance to an Irish potato or white truffle, but were much larger than the largest yam. They had the perfect shape and face of a human being, with the features of the face clearly marked, a neck, shoulders, and a well defined body. Some of the plants were small, others large ; some had male, others female features. They seemed to form a regular colony or settlement, and quivered when touched, and even seemed to move away, as if they intended to defend themselves. They received at once the name of man-plant (homme-plante). ''

Never since has the man-plant been seen; it is a mystery that will probably never be solved.

There are a hundred other plants of old Louisiana that might be mentioned, equally wonderful in their history and cures as these. The hair plant, the oil tree, the button tree, the wax tree, the fever bush, the absynthe, the water tree.

Where are all these wonders now? Where is the rattlesnake and frog potato, the angel's balm, the bite of the devil, the get-up-earlv-in-the-morning plant, the mouse's eye, the dog's tooth, the boiling root, and a hundred others that flourished in the forests around New Orleans once ? All lost now, gone like the ten tribes of Israel.


So gradual has been the improvement in things horticultural around New Orleans, it is a little difficult to appreciate how great a change has been wrought within the past fifteen years. The planting of rare trees here, the development of beds there, has been going on steadily throughout the city during all this time, until now, when you look around, you discover that there has been [developed more of a taste for the beautiful in nature than one would at first suppose. It is not to say that flowers were not always highly appreciated in New Orleans; but what forces itself upon the attention is that this taste has become more general, and more time and study have been devoted to the improvement of the flower garden than formerly.

In former days—and by former days some ten or twelve years ago is meant—a few clipped bushes, a bit of lawn, with angular flower-beds dotting it, here and there a few white and red roses, constituted what was called a pretty garden in the city. The varieties of roses seldom exceeded half a dozen, and some of these most mediocre, to which were added a Grand Duke jasmine, a mignonnette, trimmed pitosporum or lygustrum nepalensis These constituted the contents of the average garden.

Now all this is changed, and in a short peregrination anywhere out of the central portion of town you can find delightful little gardens, overrunning with the choicest roses and verdant with choice palms, coleus, hibiscus abutilus, etc. The lawns, too, have come in for a share of the work of improvement, and are now artistically kept, with neat borders and velvety sward. A number of green-houses have been erected to add their beauties to the floral display, and even the public squares, so long waste places for rank grass to thrive until it was knee deep, now have put on a more cheerful dress, with their beds of exotics and trimmed lawn.

Jackson square, ever attractive, has brightened its face with new and lovely roses and gorgeously colored plants, thanks to the commissioners. Lafayette square, keeping'pace with the good work, is now a delicious place of rest and siesta. New trees have been planted in it, and beds of rich exotics attract the eye, while fountains and classic urns add to the picture.

Coliseum square, with its battalion of water oak trees, sweep of lawn, and pretty beds, has altered the appearance of the whole neighborhood, and is now one of the most pleasant spots in the city. Annunciation, Clay and Washington squares likewise show the good results from careful attention, until each and all of them have become a source of pride to those living in their localities.

Of late, Margaret place, at the junction of Camp and Prytania streets, has become an interesting place of resort, and, young as it is as a public spot, its garden already has attracted attention.

The Lake shores have been wonderfully transformed into gardens of beauty. Spanish Fort, with its park of oaks, beds of flowers, groves of umbrella china trees, ponds and grotto, is a surprising change from the shabby orange grove that once occupied this ground.

West End, with its long parterres on the revetment, its rockeries, puzzle labyrinth, leafy arcades and lily ponds is in marked contrast with the rough and wild picture the revetment levee once presented. Of private gardens there are many worthy of a long inspection. Prytania, St. Charles, Esplanade and numerous streets offer an afternoon's study to those delighting in floral beauty and artistic gardening.

The old and rigid style of angular precise beds has passed away, and even where the space is small there are gratifying attempts at landscape gardening that has added an attractiveness not known before.

It is possible to have flowers in the open air all the year round in New Orleans, for it is seldom too cold or too hot for something to blossom, and the gardens of city residences are nearly all large enough to have the variety necessary to accomplish this result.

In order to bridge over the interval, when more bare ground than plants is seen in the cold season, some things must be learned and some popular errors forgotten. It is a common belief that Louisiana winters are as severe upon plant life as in the North; that seed must not be planted till spring, and that though large plants and trees may survive the cold winds of winter, it would not be possible for such little things as the daisy or phlox to endure them.

Now as to the facts: Some of the plants in New Orleans' gardens are occasionally killed or injured by cold, but after all a very small proportion, and so little penetrating effect has the cold that there have been geraniums, and even more delicate plants saved by a covering of a few newspapers. That orange trees in the same garden were killed proves nothing, for it i? easy to cover our small flowering plants, while to protect the orange tree would be a difficult matter. As to the time for planting seed, October and November might really be called spring months, that is to say, the influence of this climate during those months upon the germination of seeds and the growth of young plants of many kinds is equivalent to the real spring time further north. It is also provided by nature that such as should be planted shortly before the advent of cold weather are sufficiently hardy to withstand the coming winter, and few will be killed, though afforded no protection whatever. Reference is made to a number of annuals and perennials whose proper season for bloom in this climate is from the first of January to the end of April. So, under the impression that spring is the time for planting, many persons wait u.n,til

they see pansies. asters or others in bloom in a florist's hands, before they plant the seed, and being about three months behind the proper time they have very little success.

For asters, antirrhinum (snap-dragon), bellis perennis (daisy), browallia (amathist plant), candytuft, larkspur, lobelia, stocks, pansy, phlox, sweet alyssum, sweet William, verbena : Sow in shallow boxes or pans, in soil enriched with old manure and made light with the addition of sand ; sow very thin (an ordinary paper of most of the above seed should be spread over a surface from two to four feet square); sift fine soil over the seed sufficient only to cover it from sight, then water with a fine rose spray often enough to keep the earth slightly moist; too much water is injurious. Place the boxe3 where they may have air, but shade from the direct rays of the sun and shield from heavy rains. If you are troubled with ants raise the boxes on stakes driven in the ground and rub chalk around the stakes or moisten them with coal oil frequently, and the ants will not climb up.

The young plants should make their appearance, according to kind, in from seven to twelve days, and if the weather is still warm they must be looked to every day. If they lack sufficient air or have been sown too thick they are liable to damp off— that is, the little plants become diseased at the surface of the ground, fall over and die ; therefore, the moment the seed is we'd up it must be thinned out to prevent the plants from touching each other. When they have five or six leaves they may be transplanted to the border.

Mignonnette and flowering poppy are excellent additions to the above list, but as they do not stand the transplanting process well, the seed should be sown in the ground and thinned out, so as to allow only the proper number of plants to remain, or the seed maybe grown in small pots in the same manner as described for others, and afterward turned from the pot to the ground without injury to the roots.

Chinese Primula Wrimula Sinensis) is also a favorite, but being a little more delicate in its early growth needs the protection of a frame until frosts are over.

If it is desired to keep a succession of annuals in bloom until late in the summer, you may sow marigolds, petunia, phlox, candytuft, and a number of others in January and February, and portulaca, balsams, lupins and vines of all kinds in March and April.

Thus it will be seen that with a little forethought, and some attention to the needs of plant life, you may always have something in bloom. The great beauty of New Orleans roses is attributable in part to the fact that they have sufficient cold to stop their buds and give them a much-needed rest, but during that short period the early annuals and flowering bulbs come into bloom, and many flowering shrubs lend their aid to bridge the interval. Meanwhile the stately camellia, for a time taking the place of the rose, is sought for, admired and courted, but quickly forgotten when the warm winds of February waft the first perfume of the queen of flowers.

The period between November 15 and January 15 is regarded as the best season of the year for rose-planting in the latitude of New Orleans, although planting may be continued through January, February and March with fair prospects of success. T© obtain the best results, plant as early after the fifteenth of November as possible. Roses planted after the last of March usually give poor satisfaction, and very often a total loss of the plants is the result of such late planting. They make all their working roots during the cold or cool weather of our winter months, and do very little root growing in hot weather; thus it will be seen that the earlier in the season they are planted the better chance they will have to become sufficiently well established to resist the heat of the sun during the summer.

Roses do well in the ordinary soil of Louisiana, provided the situation be sufficiently well drained naturally or by artificial means. They will not thrive in soil that is naturally wet, or is rendered so from other causes. Perfect drainage is the first and most important requisite.

The soil should be well prepared by being spaded and thoroughly pulverized to a depth of twelve inches or more,

The money snent in th° purchase in New Orleans of iw/'h, bulbs as the Tvlip, Croc^*, Ane*

mone, Scillas, Snowdrops, Ranunculus, Ixia, Colchicum, is simply wasted, as they do little or no good, either in the open ground or as pot plants, in latitudes so low as New Orleans

Southern ladies visiting Northern cities are struck with the beauty of the beds, etc., of these handsome flowers, and often wonderingly ask why it is that they cannot be grown here as well as in New York, and seem incredulous when told that they will not bloom here, and are not satisfied of the fact until they have spent a small fortune in their purchase.

The Hyacinths and Jonquils are the only winter flowering bulbs that can be relied upon to bloom in the climate of New Orleans. Of these there are a great multitude of varieties, single and double, tall and low growing sorts, that make a very pretty effect when grown in beds in the garden, and are invaluable for house culture in pots, jars, fancy boxes and baskets, and in fact may be grown in anything that may suit the fancy.

The later part of October is the proper season for planting Hyacinths and other bulbous-rooted flowering plants.

It is useless to attempt to save Hyacinth bulbs for a second season, as they will never bloom again—even should they escape the rot during the following summer—and may just as well be thrown away when they are done blooming.


The Spanish moss, " tillandsia neneoides." of the botanists, has its own history, and is a veritable " arcanum naturae." Its biographical records are very meagre, in spite of all learned men of botanical science. Many botanists sent as emissaries from the NewEngland universities might have passed under those moving, swinging and dropping garlands without seeing more than its peculiar growth.

The native habitat of the Spanish moss is on the tops and branches of living trees which grow in the gloomy swamps or along their borders. It revels in the darkest recesses of the deep and dismal cypress groves, above the exhalations of everlasting swamps, and covers as with a mantle the broad-armed live and native oaks which fringe the ridgy margins of the lakes and bayous.

It even drifts away from the tops of the cypress and tupelo, and encroaches on the high lands adjacent to the swamps, and festoons with its gray drapery, the sweet gum, elm and ash. Associated as it is by false report and preconceived ideas, with malarial fevers and swamp ague, the stranger when he first views the long pendulous pennants of the gray moss, solemnly swaying in the breeze, cannot resist the impression that he is looking on the waving plumes of a hundred hearses.

But prone as the imagination is to this delusion, it is now well settled that this long moss is the salvation of the swamp residents.

Many a home along the dark margins of extensive swamps enjoys as perfect health and as great immunity from disease as those do which are located in the mountains.

This moss needs the tree simply to keep it in the air. It is, therefore, an epiphyte. It is not a parasite, because it does not derive any sustenance from the tree ; but it feeds on the malari ous elements in the atmosphere, and, consuming them, purifies the surrounding air, which would, for human lungs and skin, be otherwise loaded with poison, from the rapid decay of exuberant vegetation.

It cannot live on a dead tree, because the bark, among the crevices of which its tendrils creep has slipped off. When the tree dies, the moss soon turns black, and drapes itself in mourning as if for the tree, its dead mother.

No scenery in nature can convey a more solemn and impressive feeling to the traveler than a moss-covered swamp. As one pushes his pirogue through the lofty wreaths and verdant arches of the silent swamp, the tall columns of cypress rise up on every side like huge stalagmites, upholding the leafy, living cavern above, from the roof of which depend long masses of moss, like innumerable gray stalactite* <<> shutting out the sun as to make ty twilight at t\oon t



The living moss is of a greenish gray color. It has Ions branching fibres or filaments, and at each bifurcation produces tiny, trumpet-shaped flowers, smaller than tobacco flowers, and of a peach blossom color. It grows rapidly and is easily propagated ; a single thread blown from one tree to another soon grows into a mass of moss.

In good localities the bunches will grow twenty to thirty feet long. Often a single live oak tree, such as may be seen near the mouth of the Atchafalaya, will, in addition to the enormous weight of its own ponderous, horizontal branches, carry twenty to twenty-five tons of green moss.

A curious feature of the Spanish moss is that it has apparently no beginning and no end. You may experiment for hours—in vain you will search for the discovery of this fact.



The French market has become a traditional curiosity to visitors to New Orleans, as one of the most original features of the city, and it is considered one of the first duties of a stranger to visit it.

As you near Jackson square a stream of busy-looking people appears, laden with baskets and bundles. Following this current of life, you are whirled forward to the corner, opposite the market. Here a stout old lady of heavy build, ornamented with a bonnet like a basket of vegetables, dashes across, followed by her daughter, a rosy-faced, stout-shouldered, masculine young woman. Business is everything to them, and as they pass over the oozy mud they lift their dresses high, high enough to attract the attention of the neighboring men. You follow in their footsteps into the market; at its entrance is a marble-topped stand, over which hangs the title and sign of the Cafe Rapide, with a painting, illustrative of the title, of many persons devouring their food with dangerous and terrifying celerity. Here you take your seat for a cup of coffee or chocolate, and glance around you.

A man might here study the world. Every race that the world boasts is here, and a g«od many races that are nowhere else. The strangest and most complicated mixture of Indian, negro and Caucasian blood, with negroes washed white, and white men that mulattoes would scorn to claim as of their own particular hybrid.

The dresses are as varied as the faces ; the baskets even are of every race, some stout and portly, others delicate and adorned with ribbons and ornaments ; some, again, old, wheezy and decayed, through whose worn ribs might be seen solemn and melancholy cabbages, turnips and potatoes, crammed and jostled together in ruthless imprisonment. The butchers scorn to use all those blandishments that the lower grades of market society make use of to attract purchasers. Like Mahomet, the mountain must come to them. From the ceiling hang endless ropes of spider's webs, numberless flies, and incalculable dirt. The stalls are deeply worn by the scraping process; in some yawn pits, apparently bottomless; and lastly, the floor of the market is not at all clean, but covered with mud and dirt from the feet of its patrons. Through the crowd lurk some skeleton-dogs, vainly hoping, by some happy accident, to secure a dainty morsel.

At the end of the market lie, sleep, eat and trade a half-dozen Indians. In olden days these Natchez, Choctaws and Creeks were numbered by the thousands, but they have melted away into Mulattoes. The lazy, unstudied attitude of these Red Roses, these daughters of the forest, is not exactly in accordance with the poetic idea one used to drink in, in his earlier days. The Indian females are formless, and the bag that they wear has no pretensions to fitting. When in addition they have hung around them bundles, beads, babies, and other curiosities, they fail to arouse our poetic sentiments.

Still following the drift of the crowd, you enter the Bazaar market, the newest of this batch of old buildings that are collectively honored with the title of market. It is in a tolerably good state of preservation. The architect had high and ambitious views, evidenced by two tin cupolas that rise like domes from the market-house. The flush days of the Bazaar market are fled; no longer are fortunes to be gained there ; gloom and melancholy lurk within; many of the shops are boarded up, and even those that are occupied see few purchasers. A string of youthful merchants stretched across the street from the Bazaar to the vegetable market. Though but a dozen or so years of age, they have learned all the "tricks of the trade," and overwhelm you with good bargains, and almost extort your money from you.

At the angle of the vegetable market is the chicken repository. The dead chickens hang downward from the roof; the live ones are cooped up, and chant endless rounds of music. This market is the most cosmopolitan of all. The air is broken by every language—English, Freuch, Italian and German, varied by gombc languages of every shade ; languages whose whole vocabulary embraces but a few dozen words, the major part of which are expressive, emphatic and terrific oaths.

Nor are the materials for sale less varied. Piles of cabbages, turnips and strange vegetables adorn each side. Monstrous cheeses smile from every corner; the walls are festooned with bananas, etc.; while fish, bread, flour, and even alligators, have each appropriate tables. The bright sun leaks drowsily through the spider webs, producing a sad, sleepy light; the monotonous cries of the boys, "cinq d dix sous/' 1 " two cents apiece, Madame," keeps on as endlessly as Tennyson's brook, and the crowd jostles you with baskets and bundles until you drop into some neighboring stall for a bite, or make your way altogether out of the market.

If you wait a little while until the press of trade slackens somewhat and the market people begin so go home, you will have au opportunity to study the queer habits of the " dagoes "—the Italian fruit and onion dealers, who make up so important and picturesque an element in the market.

A dark-skinned woman is going out of the empty market alone. She wears a soiled, faded calico dress; but in her eye there is Madame Dufarge boldness, which attracts the attention. She crumples her dress in her dark fingers, holding it up higher as she crosses the muddy, sloppy street through the rain. When she reaches the curbstone she stamps her bare, brown feet on the banquette—they are wonderfully formed feet—and gives herself a shake to get the mud and water off, to an extent. She gathers and crumples her calico dress in her hands once more, and walking a short distance, disappears down a narrow, dark alley. Thither she is followed by more fastidious feet, through the puddles of water on the old, cracked flagstone pavement, by heaps of garbage and vegetable refuse, damp and decaying, till the entrance of a dingy, crowded courtyard is reached. This courtyard is surrounded on every side by narrow, dreary-looking buildings two stories high. Rickety, crazy steps lead up from the yard to the galleries of the second story. It is a dismal-looking place as the drizzling rain falls on the mouldy posts and patters on the broken flagstones. It seems a fit spot for Poverty to hold her court, or for the phantom forms of disease to lurk. There is a hydrant in this courtyard. Near its base four spouts are let in, which, when open, pour their water into a circular stone basin about eight feet in diameter. The iron column that rises above this basin performs three separate duties. It is a hydrant at the bottom; a lamp-post, supporting a big glass lamp, at the top ; and an ornament altogether. While this column and the circular stone basin below present a very handsome appearance, they are in strange keeping with their surroundings, for the yard is filled with tubs, buckets, barrels, hogsheads, crates and coops, all old, besides many other things that in amount seem almost impossible to crowd into a courtyai'd fifty by sixty feet. There are wet clothes strung on many lines stretched across this yard from building to building; they dismally flap and flutter about in the drizzly rain which is ever falling. The lower story, surrounding the courtyard, contains fourteen rooms, while the upper has a like number. In these dim chambers, twenty-eight in all, fifty families are living and breathing. This is their home through winter and summer, heat and cold—their home, whether pestilence, a terrible, unseen spectre, stalks about among them, or whether pity from heaven turns away the dire scourge of disease.

Many children are gathered about the dark doors. They look out vaguely at the rain, or talk and quarrel in the many dialects of their dark-skinned parents. Most of these children seem old and pinched about their faces, as though life were for them already exhausted. Dark-visaged men and women, descendants of the old Pelasgic race, are gathered in numbers in these twenty-eight rooms. The men have come in off the wharf, whei'e their boats, or their business, have occupied them all day, and are sitting in the doorways, smoking their pipes, while they gloomily look out on the gloomy weather.

The red flannel shirts and blue trousers which they generally wear give these fellows of the dark eye and raven hair a semi-piratical appearance. Their figures recall the time when Lafitte ruled, a king, over fiercer subjects on the sandy islands of Lower Louisiana. The women are inside the rooms, passing backward and forward, performing the drudgery of domestic work, while now and then they address the men in their many rapidly-spoken languages. They have a soft dialect, these women, while a great many of them possess forms and features that beneath the gentle touch of wealth and refinement would have made some even beautiful. But, with all their raven hair, their flashing eyes, and shapely forms, there is a wildness, a hardness of expression in their countenances, as if the haggard hand of want had impressed them with an undefinable asperity.

On the upper gallery, out of the rain and the reach of many hungry-looking children, long strips of maccaroni are hanging up near the ceiling to dry. These people inherit from their fathers a fondness for this article ; without which they would be like Americans without their wheat bread. Issuing from their rooms are the discordant notes of many of the feathered tribe, the gobbling of turkeys, quacking of ducks, cackling of guinea hens and crowing of cocks. The very fowls seem to feel a lack of comfort, and that the tastes of the men with the red shirts, and the women with the faded dresses is of not such an order that gobbling, quacking, cackling, and crowing jar on their nerves. They seem to be impressed with the idea, that of all occupants of the place they have the highest claim to respectability ; and they thus emulate the jabbering and rattling of many Dago languages with their noisy fowl discourse. As night approaches the lingo from these feathered, red-shirted and calico-clad inhabitants is toned down to a subdued hum-drum. The birds of pride and birds of evil tuck their heads under their wings and are silent. The numerous members of the human family are fast preparing to follow their example. The men, women and children devour their scant suppers of maccaroni and unseasonable market stuff, then drop off to their respective corners or huddle among the crates and the coops in the little rooms. Soon no sound is heard save the noise made by the elements. The drizzling rain is still falling from the dull t dark sky: the water off the roof dripping down with a pattering noise on the broken stones, or beating with loud thumps on the bottom of the tin spouts. These people go to bed early, for they have to get up early in the morning. The court yard looks in the darkess as if it had been deserted. Red shirts and faded dresses are waving backward and forward on the lines. The solitary iron lamp post, without a light at the top, stands up dimly as a true sentinel over the place. Fifty families are asleep in the dark, silent building, sleeping quietly, to awake and go through another day of poverty, privation and toil.

At three in the morning the first sounds of stirring are heard in the twenty-eight rooms. It is dark, but soon a faint streak from a match is seen flickering on the wall; then others; soon almost all of the rooms are dimly lighted up. A figure is seen descending the rickety stairs that lead down to the stones of the yard. It is that of a boy, his dress being the same in which he retired last night. This boy goes up to the lamp-post standing above the circular basin. He has a candle in one-hand, while he uses the other hand, and a pair of bare legs, to twist himself up to the lamp at the top of the post. Lighting the candle he comes down and stands on the edge of the basin awhile to rub his sleepy eyes, and recall his faculties to the post of duty.

Soon nearly all the human occupants are up and moving about, putting on the bluetrowsers and faded skirts which were thrown aside at the eany bedtime.

The fowls get waked up, too, by these indications that their owners are awake, and set up a clatter of indignation at being outdone in this matter of early rising by the human members of the community. At last all the figures have risen up from their various resting places; then the sleepy crowd of men, women and children follow each other down the crazy steps. They form around the iron hydrant in the dim lamp light, like matutinal votaries, who are assembled to perform their mystic rites, and do their devotions before an idol. They throng around the four spouts which pour their water into the circular stone basin. They are all barefooted and

bareheaded; some even have bare shoulders, but none are completely nude. These olive-com-plexioned people roll up their blue trowsers, tuck up their faded skirts and go into the big basin by fours, holding their hands under the running jets of water. They shower their heads and faces till they are wide awake.

The water that runs down into the basin where they stand, has still another part to perform. But during the fulfillment of its first duties, men, women and children, all jabbering at once in their hoarse tones, or shrill voices, make the place a perfect pandemonium. They bustle and shuffle about, backward and forward round the rim of the basin, with bare feet pattering on the cold, damp stones, but in time all get washed and wide awake.

The boys then run up-stairs to get the coops of poultry, which they bring down and deposit tenderly on the stone pavement. Then they are off again after the baskets and crates of vegetables, which they bring down and pile in heaps just outside of the big basin. At the first glimpse of day they are going to take these out to the market; but in the meantime they are going to wash and get them clean before offering them for sale. To do this they roll up their blue breeches above the knees and step into the circular basin, whose waters, after having performed the duty for human heads and faces, are now going to cleanse cabbage heads and potatoes. The women pour in piles of parsnips, beets, radishes and potatoes, and the boys manipulate or pedipulate these roots under the water, where all the dirt is trodden off them, and they are taken out looking bright, nice and clean, all ready to be ranged in rows on the market stands. The four spouts of the hydrant are kept running all the time, while the water that brims over the basin runs out into the gutter beyond through overflow conduits.

The men and women are constantly jabbering while this operation is going on, about the prior rights of having their respective lots of vegetables washed, as everybody is anxious to be first at the market. In the meantime the coops of proud and noisy poultry are being carried out by other boys, who run constantly backward and forward from the yard to the market. After a while the jabbering is less loud, for many of their number have their vegetables washed, and the carriers, many of whom are women, have gone out down the alley, most of them staggering under wagon loads of comestibles.

A few old women are still left washing their stuffs in this basin of all uses. Their shrill, garrulous tones are heard till all get through. Then the stone basin, with its iron hydrant, lamppost, and light at the top, is deserted. A few of the oldest crones are left to take care of the very young children. All children who are not mere infants have gone out to work. These shriveled old women keep up for a short time a slight show of converse; a child or two cries as if unable to account for the cessation of the noise, and soon all is quiet.

The dingy posts of the galieries make long shadows on the wall from the light of the lonely lamps below. The many little rooms, which a short time before were all bustle and confusion, are as quiet as the dim post shadows on the wall. Bats flit silently past the twenty-eight dark doorways ; rats go about creeping over the damp stones below. It is little reck where they go or whence they come. Thus it is with these children of want, who live and die unheeded, in the heart of a gay busy world.

The courtyard people are only a part of the numbers who sell vegetables in the market. There are many others engaged in the business, who bring their vegetables in various ways and conveyances. There is a large class of people who raise their own vegetables and bring them to this place for sale in carts. At about two or three o'clock in the morning the sounds of many loaded carts are heard jolting on the streets. They travel generally at that pace commonly practiced at fashionable funerals. They creak and rumble in a characteristic manner as they go up the street, for their drivers are ostentatiously plodding and methodical. These drivers look sleepy; the horses and mules look about half asleep ; even the carts seem as though they objected to being pulled out of their sheds and dragged through the darkness at that unheard-of hour. Of these drivers, some are men and some are women.

On the arrival of the loads of vegetables at the market, the carts back up to the curbstones,

the sleepy drivers descend, and the work of unloading and arranging the vegetables on the stall counters commences. The women with their limp petticoats and dresses, damp with the dews of the morning, gathered about their thick-set limbs, arrange the vegetables to their taste.

Flat white-headed cabbages, whose phrenology is striking, if cabbages may be considered phrenologically, are placed in long rows above one another on the stall counters where they rest, demure, stolid and uniform in appearance as the heads in the modern pictures of the old-time English charity schools. These men and women handle the cabbages in a manner more delicate and respectful than that they use toward the other vegetables. The bags of potatoes, baskets of beans, bunches of carrots, beets and other stuffs are pitched unceremoniously on the stands, while numerous humble flat squashes are chucked unostentatiously beneath the stands as if there were no people in the world who had any regard for squash.

The little dark-skinned boys and girls, the raven-haired women in the faded calico skirts, are jabbering louder than in the courtyard where they washed their vegetables under the iron hydrant. The carts continue coming in from the gardens on the outskirts of the city. Each arrival is not only an addition to the stock of vegetables on hand, but it helps to swell the unharmonious hubbub of the place.

In Billingsgate it is said that the "heavenly gift divine—the power of speech "—is a faculty habitually abused. Here the abuse is more flagrant, for not "king's English" alone is subjected to pretty rough handling, but every language spoken on the globe is slanged, docked, or insulted by uncivilized innovations on its original purity. This commingling of languages is swelled to an absolute uproar by sunrise, when the market-goers begin to arrive. Aristocratic old gentlemen with their broadcloth, polished manners and boots puffed in and out; fat females with fat baskets hanging on their fat arms, waddle to and fro; footmen, waiters, maids and small boys come and go away. Nearly all trades, professions, colors and castes are represented with baskets on their arms.

The red-limbed, thick-set woman is at her stand, busily filling the baskets of many customers. Her short, stubby, harsh-looking broom is standing idle up against one of the shelves, waiting till the day is over. Then its harsh, yellow straws will grate once' more against the paving stones of the place, as it sweeps the broken cabbage leaves and carrot tops out of the deserted market into the dirty street.

There are several marble-top tables about, in different parts of the market; four-legged stools are standing in rows alongside of these. Many little white cups and saucers are in a line near the edge of the tables. These are the coffee stands. A big steaming urn, with a faucet to it, is in the centre of each table, while various dishes, containing bread, beefsteaks, even bacon and greens, are scattered over the marble top. These are not very neat-looking tables, for some of their parts are not in keeping with the others. Thus the marble top looks white and nicely polished, the cups and saucers look bright as porcelain, but the legs and bodies of the tables are uncanny in the extreme.

They are streaked with grease, or the polish is worn off at regular intervals where the stools are placed along side of them, The legs might look better; stray cabbage leaves and other waste material, scattered around their feet, give these legs a half-unclean, negligent appearance that borders on depravity. But then this is the market, and the wilted cabbage leaves are a part of the place. The tall stools, too, have this semi-negligent aspect. They are brightly polished on the top of their seats unavoidably, but their rungs and legs are scratched and scraped by iron shoe-pegs, or just the least bit discolored by mud. With the odors of the aromatic coffee, steaming from the urns, is mingled a peculiar market smell.

The keepers of these stands are semi-neat looking, too. Their shirts are as white as the marble tops of the tables, their buttons as bright as the little cups and saucers, and their countenances fresh and healthy-looking as the steaming dishes of bacon and greens. Their pants show they have been in contact with the grease-spots on the table, or vice versa. Their shoes have been treading too much about among the wilted cabbage-leaves to lay claim to a respect-

able appearance. But probably hungry men are not too fastidious, and they don't mind a little grease or a little mud in the gentlemen who sell coffee at " five ceuts a cup," and the accompaniments accordingly. Most of these coffee-vendors have the power of imitating all the languages spoken in the place, to a certain extent. They make themselves understood to all their customers, and seem thoroughly posted in favorite slaug phrases of the would-be fast men who come there to drink coffee. They are acknowledged as the elite of market society by the common consent of their humbler neighbors, of the vegetable and poultry trades; and they act well up to the license of this general acknowledgment. They are condescending, however, to those around them. They seem to feel a pity for those poor vegetable sellers; for some of them were once vegetable men themselves and they can appreciate the position. They are proportionately urbane as their customers are respectable. They pour out their coffee in dignified silence for the poor market men and women who come up and lean their elbows on the marble tops of the tables. When monsieur from the steamboats, or his desk, or his loafing place at the corner, comes up to get his breakfast, the coffee-vendor is all politeness.

Strangers who come into town late at night, bringing into the city with them their rural tastes and appetites, like to get a bite of something early in the morning. So they, too, often patronize the coffee stands. Some of these have a rural lack of assurance which they failed to leave at their homes, and they look very modest when they climb the high stools. They hesitate in answering to the question whether they'll take " cafe au lait " or "cafe noir ; " they believe, however, they'll take "the first." The respectable keeper of the coffee stand has a pitying look in his eye for the ignorance of country people. The stranger of this class gets through, fumbles awkwardly in his pocket for the necessary pay ; then gives place to the man of display, who pulls in on his purse here to gratify a taste for the ornamental somewhere else.

He is a regular patron of the coffee dealer, and goes about his cheap breakfast very patronizingly. He is particularly cautious not to let his fine clothes come in contact with the greasy woodwork of the table. When he gets through he shakes these clothes, and wending his way up town, resumes the strolling avocation, from which he rested last night, and a good many nights before. Little errand boys come up quietly to the stands, demurely eat their breakfasts, and silently go away. The keeper of the stand is generally kind to such unobtrusive little fellows. He seems to know that their coarse little jackets cover hearts that are braver and better than many which beat beneath velvet and broadcloth.

Sometimes old rich men come here to get cheap breakfasts : for certainly black coffee, "five cents a cup," and warm beefsteaks, are as nourishing and wholesome as broiled mutton chops, soft boiled eggs, and the thigh of a spring chicken, even if it is the least bit noisy down here, and smells more like a market than a restaurant.

The red-legged woman with the short, harsh broom, and the dark-eyed, raven-haired resident of the courtyard, say that they all have to pay fifteen cents a drawei and twenty cents a corner a day for their stands, besides a city license of ten dollars a year. A drawer is the space between two posts on a shelf, and a corner is a shelf where two of the passage-ways of the market cross each other. When the collector comes around, they dive their hands down into the pockets of their damp, faded dresses, pull out their small change, and silently hand it over. But some of the sellers of vegetables are inspired with a spirit of liberty and independence. They are very jealous of their rights, and this kind don't see money matters in the same light as do most people in the world. They pay up squarely when the collector steps up, but they think forty-five cents a day a very high rent to pay for the intervals of a stall between four posts.

The Indian women, with their bead works, bay leaves and sassafras, are the only professional "dead heads" in the place. They lie on the stones at full length, or sit on their feet, unheeding and unheeded by the crowd who are continually passing backward and forward.

Some of the skiff men from Algiers are would-be "dead-heads." They endeavor to sell at the wharf in front of the market without coming under the provisions of the market license, but the collectors generally levy upon them.



The grounds now partly occupied by the buildings formerly known as the University of Louisiana, but recently passed by legislative enactment to the custody and control of the administrators of the Tulane University of Louisiana, have an historic past.

In the year 1812, when the State of Louisiana emerged out of the Territory of Orleans, a period when the enterprise of the citizens of New Orleans overreached its upper dividing line, it began in the broad fields which had been cleared by the Jesuit farmers, to erect spacious and elegant buildings. Among other movements of this kind was that of the commissioners of the Charity Hospital, now under State control, who acquired the entire square bounded by Canal, Baronne, Philippa and Common streets, on the Canal street half of which and fronting that thoroughfare, they erected, in 1815, along, two-storied yellow stuccoed brick building of the Tuscan style of architecture, which then predominated. The space intervening between Canal street and the building was beautifully adorned with shrubbery. This square and building, in 1834, was purchased by the State for $125,000. The hospital was transformed into a State House. The rooms formerly occupied by the sick and dying became the Senate Chamber, and the adjacent rooms, headquarters for the State's official dignitaries. A wing was added on its Baronne street side for the accommodation of the House of Representatives, the lower story of which was appropriated as an armory and office of the Adjutant-General of the State. This, for seventeen years, was the centre of State legislative power.

It was in the fall of 1834 that, through the private enterprise of seven resident physifians, the Medical College of Louisiana was organized, and a charter was granted to the Medical College by the Legislature April2,1835, "and in March, 1836, the first degrees in science ever conferred in Louisiana were conferred by the professors of the unendowed Medical College. This remarkable epoch in the scientific history of the State was succeeded by seven years of unrequited and unaided professional labors by the faculty for the advancement of medical science." October 20,1838, the faculty established a school of pharmacy for conferring the degree of "Master of Pharmacy." Its session began in January, 1835, and continued four months. Its founders and first faculty were : Dr. Thomas Hunt, professor of anatomy and physiology; Dr. John Harrison, adjunct demonstrator in anatomy; Dr. Charles A. Luzenberg, professor of surgery; Dr. J. Munro Mackie, professor of practice; Dr. Thomas R. Ingalls, professor of chemistry; Dr. Aug. H. Cenas, professor of midwifery; Dr. Edwin Bathurst Smith, professor of materia medica. Dr. Edward H. Barton, professor of materia medica was substituted for Dr. E. A. Smith, who withdrew from the faculty before the opening of the first session.

Through the illness of Dr. John Harrison, which incapacitated him from serving, Dr. Warren Stone occupied his chair and continued uninterrupted association with the college until his death, occupying five important positions in the faculty, receiving his first appointment to a professorship in 1837.

In 1834 Governor Roman granted for the medical faculty during its first session a large room in the State House above referred to. Its second course of didactic lectures was delivered at No. 40 Royal street; the succeeding four courses at the Charity Hospital, excepting the chemical lectures, which were delivered at No. 14 St. Charles street ; the next three courses, carrying the history of the faculty to 1843, at 239 Canal street. The Legislature of that year passed a bill granting a lease of a lot for ten years, corner of Common and Dryades streets (then Philippa). to the faculty of the Medical College, for the purpose of erecting a building thereon. The con-

ditions of the lease consented to by the self-sacrificing faculty were ten years' service as physicians and surgeons to the Charity Hospital, without compensation. This condition, which was faithfully complied with, saved the State $24,000 at the rate previously paid for such service. Also, the faculty agreed to receive as students, with free tuition, a person from each parish in the State Up to 1871 about 200 students had been educated at a cost of $56,000. Another condition acceded to was, that at the expiration of the ten years' lease, the building was to revert to the State. When so transferred the estimated value was $15,000. This building was designed and erected by Mr. Darkin, an architect of high repute. It is now known as the Law Department of the University. In addition to its present form there were attached to both its sides one-story brick wings. There the tenth, eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth courses, from October, 1843 to 1847, were delivered.

In 1847 a lot adjacent to this building, 150 front on Common street by 200 feet deep, between Dryades and Baronne streets, was appropriated by the Legislature, with $40,000 to erect upon it a suitable building for the medical department. This, the central one of the three University Buildings [containing three large lecture-rooms and an extensive museum), has been occupied by the faculty from the fourteenth session, 1847-1848, to the present time. On March 20, 1861, the Legislature transferred from the academic to the medical department, the third one of the University Buildings, designated as the east wing, at the corner of Common and Baronne streets. Since 1865 a cross-wing has been erected, which unites the east wing with the central building, and these imposing and commodious edifices are devoted to the medical department, which finds in them the most ample accommodation for all of the many requisites necessary for medical education. These two buildings, with the amphitheatre of the Charity Hospital, and its wards containing a daily average of about 800 patients, will continue to furnish in the future, as at present, accommodations for as large a class of medical students and as many conveniences for their instruction as any similar institution in this country.

The conditional aid first furnished by the State in 1843 has been stated. The next public recognition of the services of the faculty was by the convention which framed the Constitution of 1845, which directed that "An University shall be established in the City of New Orleans ;" it shall be called the "L^niversity of Louisiana," and the "Medical College of Louisiana," as at present organized, shall constitute the Faculty of Medicine.

This provision was not carried into execution until 1847, when the first Legislature elected under the Constitution of 1845 was in session and passed the Act No. 49, February 16, 1847, which legally ti'ansformedthe "Medical College of Louisiana " into the "Medical Department of the University of Louisiana " and provided for its government.

The Constitutions of 1852, 1864 and 1868, contain articles similar to those of 1845, providing for the organization and maintenance of the University of Louisiana, with medical and other departments.

In addition to the aid furnished by the State which has been referred to, $25,000 was given in 1850 and $6,000 more in 1853 to furnish the medical department with a museum, and such chemical and other apparatus, etc., as are needed for medical instruction. Other appropriations have been made from time to time for repairs and improvements of the University buildings, the property of the State, but none for any other purposes whatever.

On the other hand, the pecuniary benefits conferred upon and the value of the property transferred to the State by the faculty of the medical department may be fairly estimated as follows:

Attendance, by contract, upon the Charity Hospital for ten years, $24,000; amphitheatre in the same hospital, $2,500 ; west wing of the University buildings, $15,000; library, apparatus, preparations in the museum, etc., $25,000 ; repairs, insurance, etc., on the property of the State, $25,000; education of indigent students, $56,000—amounting in all to $147,500.

Beside these contributions to the cause of medical education and to the establishment and advancement of the medical department of the. ijniversity of Louisiana, the faculty have

matriculated 7,522 students and have 2,199 alumni. During Dr. T. G. Richardson's official connection with the college there have been 4,636 students matriculated, to 1,491 of whom diplomas have been presented. They have supplied more than seventeen professors to various medical institutions and a much larger number of public instructors. One-third of its own corps of teachers has been supplied by its graduates, while about one-third of the practicing physicians of New Orleans, and a large proportion of the profession in Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas and Alabama received their parchments from the dean of this institution. A very large number of its alumni occupied important positions in the late war. In the twenty-seven years succeeding its beginning, this institution had augmented its class from eleven students to a number which elevated it to the third in numerical rank among the colleges of the United States. This result was in a large part due to the learning, marked capacity and wide-spread reputation of those members of the faculty, who, from the foundation of the college, gave their zealous labor for many consecutive years to its prosperity. It is rare, indeed, to find a faculty consisting of men of so much ability, and permitted to prosecute their duties conjointly and uninterruptedly for so long a series of years as was given to its faculty.

The following list shows the noted gentlemen who have been elected deans and professors, and the duration of their connection with the faculty :

Prof. Tbomas Hunt, 1835 to 1867.

Prof. Edward H. Barton, 1835 to 1840.

Prof. Augustus H. Cenas, 1835 to 18C6.

Prof. Charles A. Luzenberg, 1835 to 1837.

Prof. John Hoffman Harrison, 1835 to 1849.

Prof. James Jones, 1836 to. 1866.

Prof. Gustavus Adolphus Nott, 1839 to 1867.

Prof. William M. Carpenter, 1842 to 1848.

Prof. A. J. vredderburn, 1842 to 1856.

Prof. Tobias Gibson Richardson, 1858 to 1865.

Encouraged by the success of the Medical College, the Law Department of the University of Louisiana was organized in May, 1847. The late Judge Isaac T. Preston, as chairman of the committee of administrators, reported a plan of organization, and the first Law Faculty was constituted in the following manner: First law professor, Judge Henry A. Bullard ; second, Richard Henry Wilde ; third, Judge Theodore H. McCaleb ; fourth, Randell Hunt."

For many years the lectures of this department were delivered annually by the four professors in the United States District court-room, and until the Medical Faculty had repaired and extended the buildings formerly occupied by it, thus providing sufficiently for their own and the Law Department, which in 1867 took possession of the present building, known as Law Department of the U/niversity.

The course of lectures given by the able members of the Law Faculty have embraced the civil law, common law and equity, admiralty, commercial, international and constitutional law, and the jurisprudence of the United States. The large number of students who have received the degrees of Bachelor of Laws, and the graduates of this department constitute a considerable proportion of the most prominent and distinguished members of the bar of the State. Several have reached high public honor, and have filled the offices of district attorney, attorney-general, judges of District Courts, justices of the Supreme Court of Louisiana, and members of Congress.


In the Art Gallery of the Southern Art Union, the lower walls of which are covered with shelves well filled with choice books, there are ov^r 3,600 volumes, -Until recently it has supplied over ^o roarer* with helpful literature free of cost. In order fco. m&X§ thu branch.

self-supporting tne executive committee of the Southern Art Union determined to loan books only to those paying an annual subscription of sixty cents.

The saion of this library is open Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., during which hours it is free to visitors, who have the privilege of perusing not only the books, but the numerous magazines with which the tables are supplied.

The Fisk Library is a free library for the use of visitors. Its rooms are lefty, airy, and well lighted. The librarian receives his guests from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Here the public have free access to ail the most important periodicals of the day, the latest dictionaries and encyclopedias, and the works of many of the standard authors. This library is growing at the rate of 500 volumes a year. The books added are selected by the faculty of the academical department of the Tulane University.

The State Library contains 40,000 volumes, about 5,000 of which are in foreign languages. Lawyers, physicians and students have special privileges in this library; no others are permitted to take books from the rooms. It is open daily, Sundays excepted, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.

The Y. M. C. A. Library and Free Reading-Room is the only public library in the city, free to everybody, where the daily papers of all the important cities of the United States are kept on file. Its tables are well supplied with popular periodicals ; in its book-cases are to be found many valuable works. The rooms are open from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m.

The City Library is located in a large room in the City Hall. There are to be found a well-classified selection of valuable books. Possibly no library in the city is more valuable for references as to ancient matters than this. The library is open daily, Sundays excepted, from 9 a.m. to 3 P.M.




In glancing over the early papers published in the city of New Orleans, one is likely to have a train of interesting thought awakened in bis mind as he is carried back to the consideration of events of bygone times ; and he is apt to regard with a smile many trivial matters that at one time were the cause of deepest concern in the breasts of our good ancestors. Half a century ago, journalism, as it is now understood, was an unknown profession. The brief chroniclers of the time conducted gazettes, which were the forerunners of journals. The gazette noticed the movements of crowned heads, the arrival and departure of armies, and gave some attention to the utterances of statesmen. When it attempted to discuss a public question, which was not often, it was apt to be one-sided and inclined to support the rich and powerful against the existing demands of a growing democracy. The gazette man of the olden time was thought to be doing his duty if he gave news that was six months old, or went to press with nothing more important in his readable columns than complimentary allusions to those persons who were at the time making use of his advertising space. Some of the old correspondents fully equaled, if they did not surpass, the letter-writers of the present day in graphic power. But on the whole the letters in the public prints were dull, and impersonalism was pushed to a degree that leaves us, who read the old papers, in utter ignorance as to the persons alluded to. Any letter written by an American sea-captain while in a foreign port, when received was freely accorded the post of honor under the editorial head, though it related to events one or two years old. This dull form of letter usually related to the sailing of vessels, the discharging of cargoes, or other trite subjects of no interest to any one but ship-owners. If the editor, after making his rounds, weekly or semi-weekly, and visiting the merchants of the city, failed to find " a letter from abroad," he was not averse to clipping one from the last New York or London gazette at hand. To sit down with a judicial mind and examine and write out a valuable opinion on any pressing public question ; to mark out the course on which right actions ought to proceed; or make a careful, well-written record of the events of the day, he must have considered occupation unworthy of his attention. As to the local news, which is of so much importance to the newspaper of the present day, he must have thought it an utter waste of time to print local items that every city reader could knew all about by simply inquiring at the nearest coffee-house. Nothing short of a sweeping conflagration or other calamity seemed sufficient to impel the pen of the local chronicler.

The first newspaper was issued in New Orleans in 1794, being entitled La Moniteur de (a Louisiane, and was printed in the French language. Some of the early volumes are still preserved in the city archives, and can be seen by persons who are curious concerning such mat ters. It was started by a refugee from San Domingo.

Another old newspaper, whose early volumes may still be consulted, is the Louisiana Gazette, begun by John Mowry, July 27, 1804, and issued in the English language twice a week. It was badly printed on a folio sheet, say 10x16 inches. The chief business of most writers appeared to be to abuse Napoleon, who so unfeelingly disturbed what was called the balance of power in Europe. The statesmen of the early days of our republic received some attention, but not much. General Wilkinson, Daniel Clarke (the father of Myra Clarke Gaines), Aaron Burr, and others, attracted local attention, and were greatly praised or blamed for the part they took in public affairs. They were represented as sending everything to ruin; but the ruin did not come in \fyfi\l time or by them.

The Louisiana Gazette had a checkered existence, but a good deal of vitality. It was first printed in the house of C. Norwood, No. 36 Bienyille street. Its motto, for a long time, was "American Commerce and Freedom." When it was several years old the sub-title of New Orleans Mercantile Advertiser was added. The paper was published in the centre of the business part of the town. At one time it issued from 21 Conti street; later it was moved to No. 96 on the same thoroughfare. In 1812 the publication office was moved to 51 Chartres street; in 1818 it was removed to Conti; in 1823 to 31 Custom-house ; and next year a permanent home was thought to have been found for it at 22 Bienville street. On the fifteenth of April, 1817, the paper was first printed in French and English. The same year it was enlarged, and again increased in size the following year, when it became a six-column folio. The proprietor made many vigorous attempts to establish a daily paper in the Crescent City. The first daily edition was issued April 3, 1810. At that time Mr. Mowry sold an interest in his paper, and promised to give the latest intelligence. In 1814 the paper was issued tri-weekly by David McKeehan, who had bought out the former proprietor. Later the paper passed into the hands of G. B. Cotten, who, in January, 1816, sold it to William Burner. In 1817 Burner was joined by Charles W. Duhy, who later on became a conspicuous figure in New Orleans journalism. Burner withdrew from the paper, and in July, 1820, Mr. Duhy was, as sole proprietor, engaged in issuing the paper in an enlarged form as a daily. By 1824 the paper began to assume the appearance of a modern newspaper. Mr. Duhy had retired, and Mr. R. D. Richardson was the owner and publisher. In November of that year James McKaraher became the proprietor of the paper, In May, 1825, R. D. Richardson and A. T. Penniman (a printer from Boston) purchased the paper and also the material of the defunct Orleans Gazette, and announced themselves as the proprietors of a very large job office, having four hand-presses. The subscription price of the paper was $10.00 a year.

The Louisiana Advertiser was issued as early as 1820. In 1825 the Advefrtiser was published by James Beerdslee at No. 37 Bienville street. It was a six-column folio of small size and furnished at §10 a year. He was followed in the ownership by John Penrice in 1830, who in turn sold out to Stroud & Jones.

James Beerdslee, February 14,1824, started a new paper which he called the Louisiana Weekly Advertiser. On December 23,1833, John Gibson, "the faithful and bold, "who did so much towards developing journalism in New Orleans, became its proprietor and editor. In 1835 the name of the paper was changed to The True American, which ran into the forties. Gibson made the American a very lively paper, and paid attention to local news and politics. He left the old-time newspapers so far behind that they died out, for the most part, one after another, and gave place to journals of a higher grade like the Picayune, Crescent and Delta. Gibson was opposed to " nullification in all its shapes." He exposed abuses in the administration of local affairs. He backed James H. Caldwell in his attempt to introduce local improvements. Caldwell, not satisfied with building the St. Charles theatre and sustaining it in the grand style of a European theatre and opera-house, labored to beautify and adorn the city. He it was who gave the streets in the upper districts their mythological and classical names.

The Daily Tropic was begun October 1, 1842, by Alden S. Merrifield, and was issued from No. 44 St. Charles street. It was a bright, well-printed six-column folio paper, and advocated Whig principles, and, of course, sustained Henry Clay. It was probably the successor of the True American. The Tropic was very well written and showed a marked improvement over the papers that had gone before it. P. Besancon, B. F. Flanders and others were connected with it in an editorial capacity.

Another old newspaper still remembered with pleasure was the Courier. This journal, after an active and useful life of half a century, came to its death by natural causes, May 29, 1859. Commenced in the early days of journalism, it had been improved from year to year by its successive managers till it became one of the best papers In the country. It represented the conservative sentiments of the Democratic party in Louisiana. The party became divided on