questions of great moment to the South, and when new hands tried to force the Courier into a new and untried position it could not bear the shock and—died. A good deal of local history is bound up in an old newspaper called The Friend of the Laics and Journal du Soir, which was printed in English and French. The first copy now to be found bears date September 2, 1816, being a part of volume seven and number 1,281. On the twentieth of September, 1822, the name was altered to The Louisianian and Friend of the Laws. At first it was a small four-column folio, and was early published as a daily. At the period named it was published by Michel De Armas and J. B. Maurian. On the fifteenth of April, 1824, the paper then being owned and published by Manuel Crozat, ceased to appear under the name of The Louisianian, but four days later, that is, on the nineteenth of April, it made its re-appearance under the name of The Argus. The type and material were the same as used in the previous issue, the advertisements were the same, and to all intents and purposes it was the same journal. The paper was a small folio of five columns, printed in English and French, and served to subscribers at $10 per year. On the seventh of August. 1834, the New Orleans Argus became the Louisiana Whig, being Whig in politics, and was issued from No. 70 Chartres street. During the year the paper was enlarged to a six-column folio. On the first of March, 1835, the name of The Whig was changed to The Bee. This paper is still published and is tbe organ of the French and Creole population of Louisiana. By Rowell & Co.'s "American Newspaper Directory "it will be seen that the proprietors of the Bee set down the date of the establishment of their jonrnal as 1827. The Bee is the continuation of the old Friend of the Laws, and consequently it may justly claim to be the oldest newspaper in Louisiana, for the first number of the Friend of the Laws could not have been issued later than 1809. These old newspapers will illustrate the growth of journalism in New Orleans. At first the papers were mere advertising sheets, containing little if any news. The development of newspapers in other cities naturally moved our conservative editors to do something worthy of consideration in their field.

Probably the most noteworthy journalist of the old school was J. C. De Romes, who was the editor of the Courier for a period of thirty years, and who retired from the editorial career on the twelfth of April, 1843, having disposed of the paper to Jerome Bayon. De Romes was not a great writer nor a remarkable manager, but he so conducted his paper as to retain the goodwill of the people he catered to, and after nearly a third of a century of hard work, he retired to enjoy in his old age the fruits of his long continued industry. The two decades just previous to the war saw the successful establishment of a number of journals that justly took rank with the chief newspapers of the world.

During the Mexican war Lumsden and Kendall often surprised the whole country by the rapidity with which they collected the news about the war, and presented the details of the several battles to readers everywhere through the agency of their paper. The telegraph wire was extended to New Orleans in 1848, and that event put a stop to the pony express, by which the editors often got news from twenty-four to forty-eight hours ahead of the mails. The "gold fever," as the rush to California was called, in 1849, helped the newspapers wonderfully, and the Delta and Crescent sold enormous editions containing news from the gold fields. The late war injured all the newspaper property of the city that it did not destroy, and it is only now, after all these years, that the New Orleans daily papers have been able to regain the ground that was so suddenly and so unexpectedly lost. In a sketch of this sort it is impossible to mention all the Timeses, Posts, Suns, Advertisers, Journals, Tribunes, Heralds, Newses, Standards and Gazettes that have flourished for a longer or shorter period. Many of them were excellent papers while they lasted, but, as a rule they died with the political party or set to whom they owed their existence.

The Times-Democrat, Picayune, Daily States, City Item, Bee (French), Stoats Zeilung (German), and Price Current constitute to-day the press of New Orleans. Their foundation, together with their trials and tribulations during the political contests incident to the reconstruction times, from 1864 to 1874, would fill a volume.




To follow through its intricate changes the long white staple bursting from its s^ell of fairy make in some Louisiana field, to see it torn from the boll, rushed through the relentless gin, crowded into almost nothingness in the press, and then hurried forward to the mart, is to watch the birth and generation of one potent source of the city's commercial wealth.

Soft and well-nigh intangible as it seems, each cobweb fibre draws with delicate but irresistible tension upon the great driving-wheel of trade, moving the merchant navy across the Atlantic, pulling at the pistons of thousands of factory engines, and dragging onward to higher stages of civilization the destinies of commonwealths and peoples.

We are all more or less acquainted with the rude outline of the process of transferring cotton from the field to the factory, but there are few outside the business who have more than the crudest knowledge of the varied manipulations through which a bale passes before it is ready for shipment to the looms of Europe or the North.

Let us, then, to gain a more exact acquaintance with the subject, take the product of some fertile patch of ground—say in Ouachita parish—and follow it currente calairw to the side of a vessel in our port.

A thrifty young planter, after overcoming all the threatening calamities of overflow, worms, wet weather and dry, has at last, with pardonable pride, had his few acres of cotton picked, and in piles of almost transparent whiteness the result lies on his gin-house floor. The shirr of the gin-saw is next heard, and basketful after basketful disappears within the capacious maw of the gin, to come out in the lint-room beyond in a snow storm of feathery flakes.

From the lint-room it is but a step to the packing-room, where through the center of the floor protrudes the upper portion of a press box. Here the cotton is thrown into the box, whose horizontal size is that of the future bale. A stout negro tramps it down as solidly as he can, and when the box contains enough, the screw is revolved and the platen descends. Kule or steam power is applied, and with seemingly irresistible force the platen descends until the contents of the box are pressed into a hard, compact mass. The bagging is drawn up, the ends and sides sewed, and the iron bands tightened and fastened, and until they are loosened at the factory that bale has an entity and individuality. The scattered cotton of the patch has become a commercial unit. In company with a number of its like it is rolled out to the river bank or railroad station, there to await transportation to New Orleans.

No guard or watch is placed over the bales. Too large to handle conveniently, they protect themselves. A passing steamer of the regular line of boats in the trade on her downward trip rounds to, and our bale is taken on board. No receipt is left, or given the planter, for he knows the character of those engaged in the carrying business, and he trusts them implicitly. The carriers know to whom the planter consigns his cotton should there be no mark on the bale to indicate to whom it is sent.

The bale has always on one end what is known as the planter's mark, which may be his initials, or any other convenient sign, as "J. A. B."

If the bale was raised by one of the hands on the place and is his individual property, and he desires it shipped with the planter's cotton, it has the planter's mark, " J. A. B.," and beneath, or on the other end, a special or counter-mark, as "L.," to show it is not of the planter's own crop.

On a trip down to New Orleans, a manifest, containing the number of bales and the

names of their consignees, is made out by the clerk of the boat and hung conspiculously in the cabin.

Up to this time the factor to whom the cotton has been shipped knows nothing of the consignment. "When the boat arrives at New Orleans a discharging clerk takes charge of the unloading of the cargo, and here begins an interesting operation. The same modes obtain where cotton is shipped by rail. Steamboat transportation is taken as an illustration only because of its simplicity.

If it is in the height of the season, the steamer is piled up to the hurricane roof with tiers of bales, and presents to the eye nothing but a floating wall of cotton, with smokestacks rising above.

Before she has rounded to, a large gathering of negroes on the wharf takes place near the spot where she will make a landing, all eager to go to work rolling and trucking the cotton out.

A negro forman in the employ of the discharging clerk stands on a truck or any elevation, and is immediately surrounded by the laborers, clamoring for work tickets. The foreman selects the requisite number, sometimes as many as 200, and gives them their tickets. By this time the boat has landed, and after considerable labor, stages are placed from the cotton tiers to the wharf. Then begins the discharging. The clerk stands at the lower end of the stage ready to place the cargo in lots on the wharf, according to the shipments, each consignee having his lot to himself.

This labor would require a very great expense of time were it done in the ordinary way of examining marks, etc., and ordering the laborers to truck Mr. Smith's bale to Mr. Smith's lot The ignorant negroes would inevitably make confusion in the arrangement. But their knowledge of ordinary objects is utilized, and flags with familiar emblems are used. The discharging clerk, who has thoroughly engraved on his memory the names of every consignee, orders a bale out, and on it is placed on an iron rod a flag with a white ball on a black ground. That marks the place for every bale of that consignee. Another bale of another consignee is marked with a red diamond flag. These the negroes understand. The work then commences in earnest, and the bales go by the discharging clerk almost as fast as he can call out, " Blue Anchor !" " Black Cross !" "White Flag !" "Red Ball!" and so on. He must at a glance take in the mark on the bale and remember what flag denotes this consignee's lot, a work of the memory which is remarkable, especially when sometimes there are sixty flags flying on different lots.

The moment the cotton touches the landing, and even during the process of landing, it comes under the protecting aegis of the Cotton Exchange of New Orleans. Its levee inspectors protect it from theft, see that it is covered from the weather, not rolled in the mud, and otherwise overlook it that no damage may accrue to it. A chief levee inspector and his assistants look to this, making careful reports to the Exchange. By these means both planter and factor are secure.

Nowhere in the world is freight handled so expeditiously as on the levee at New Orleans, and the manner in which the cotton is discharged from boats reads as remarkable to those unacquainted with this rapid mode of taking off freight. As a sample, the steamer "J.M. White " arrived in port a little after 6 o'clock one morning with 6,000 bales of cotton and 4,000 sacks of cotton seed on board. At 11.45 this immense cargo was discharged, and that evening at 5 o'clock the magnificent steamer was on her way up the river with another load.

But to return to our bale of Ouachita cotton. With a number of its brothers, it was trucked out on the shelled levee to a lot, over which fluttered a blue diamond flag, marking the consignment of the house of , cotton factors here.

A drayman drove up and it was rolled on his float, to be transported to one of the city presses. Here a little digression is necessary to fully illustrate this disposition of our bale.

Each cotton factor in New Orleans has his favorite cotton press., to which all consignments

are carried on arrival. Each of these presses has its boss drayman, who is acquainted thoroughly with the cotton houses storing the staple in his press. The boss draymen have, some twenty, some ten, floats engaged in the business, and in the city there are nearly 350 floats employed solely in handling cotton.

The drayman of a press, on the arrival of a steamboat, inspects her manifest hanging up in the cabin and sees exactly how many bales are in the cargo belonging to the constituents of his press. These draymen are all men of integrity, and implicit confidence is placed in them, both by the boat and the press.

As soon as he sees that in the cargo there are, say, 300 bales consigned to houses storing at liis press, he directs the drivers under him to go to the different flags marking the consignees' lots and haul the bales to the press.

A receipt is given to the discharging clerk by the drayman for the cotton. The drayman is known to represent the press and his drivers load up, and our bale after a jolting over the stones of Tchoupitoulas street reaches the cotton press. The clerk of the boss drayman has by this time made out a list of the cotton bound for his press and sends it up to the yard clerk, so that he will know what he is receiving.

Alot, amongst which is our bale, arrives at the press, and is taken in charge by the yard clerk employed there.

If the lot is a large one he gives it over to two or three gangs of yard men, who are employed to handle and care for the cotton while it is in the charge of the press. If the lot is a small one it is divided up among the gangs, so as to divide the labor equally, giving to each a certain set of marks. For instance, one gang may be given to handle all the cotton marked " A. B., L. C. & S. T.," and another all marked " P. S., J. G. & M. K."

A cotton-yard gang consists of three men—a chief and two subordinates. In the press the space between the posts supporting the roof is called a store, each store holding between 80 and 100 bales, and to each man in a gang is given one of these " stores " or piles. No one but himself, assisted by his gang, can touch a bale in his pile. He knows exactly what cotton is in his " store," and when a certain bale is wanted gets it out.

On arrival at the press each lot is separated to itself by the yardmen and ranged in rows for convenience. The sampler, who is employed by the factor, now appears upon the scene, and making a cut in the bale, withdraws therefrom a six-ounce sample of the cotton, taking care that it fairly represents the contents of the bale. This sample, with the marks of the bale on its paper wrapper, is now sent down to the factor's office, and this is the receipt of the press to the factor.

When the sample of our bale reaches the factor's office it is spread out on his sales-table for inspection.

Cotton buyers here are represented by their brokers in making purchases, The broker, after examining the sample and being satisfied with the factor's price, accepts it.

To complete the transaction another trip is necessary, however. The purchasing broker sends up to the press his weigher to reweigh the cotton, so as to verify the weight, and also his classer, who resamples it and classes it according to recognized standards as ordinary, good ordinary, low middling, etc. The seller's weigher is present when the reweighing takes place, and performs the act of reweighing. Everything being satisfactory, the bale is then " ship-marked " or marked for the vessel, which marks may be the initials of buyer, consignee, or any other sign, and with this, a number, either of some series or arbitrary, as markings through which the bale has passed, should it be found at the spinners' in Europe to contain foreign substances, such as iron, it can be immediately traced to the plantation whence it came.

In the first place the " ship-mark " would identify the bale as having been part of a lot shipped from New Orleans on such a steamer, the number indicating the bale. On inquiry at this port the planter's mark would show that it arrived on the steamer " J. M. White," on what

E. E. O. I B y t ^ ie sei "i es °*

when it is opened

102 i rocks, wood or

plantation or place it was raised, and if counter-marked whether it was the planter's oWti raising, or raised by some one on his place, or purchased. Thus by this system, the identification of the bale is perfect.

Thus from Manchester to Ouachita parish could be traced this bale of cotton, and the charges laid directly at the door of the guilty party.

Our bale, which had been but ordinarily pressed at the gin-house, is entirely too bulky to take on shipboard in that form In order to afford as much storage room as possible on board ship it is necessary to reduce its size, and here the mammoth steam compresses step in to do the work, which is for the benefit and at the expense of the ship. Our bale, having been " ship-marked," is trucked up to the press-room proper, where a gang of men stands ready to receive it. Two or three rolls and it is resting on the low platen or lower jaw of a gigantic monster that, at the movement of a lever, closes his mouth upon it, squeezing the bale until it has been diminished from three feet in thickness to about eight inches.

Iron bands are tightened, new ones are put on when necessary, and when, with a snort, this Titan loosens his jaw, a flat, uninteresting mass of solid cotton has taken the place of our formerly symmetrical bale.

With a jerk by cotton hooks the bale is sent out of the door to the drays waiting to carry it to the slip. The drayman is given a receipt by the shipping clerk for the mate or the representative of the vessel to sign on its delivery, and our bale is driven off to the wharf, where the steamer awaits it.

The Cotton Exchange never relaxes its vigilant watch over a bale of cotton from the time it arrives, until it is in the ship's hold.

On its arrival, in the press, and on the wharf, where it is to be taken by the ship's tackle, it is protected and watched.

Where, in old days, Tchoupitoulas street was white with loose cotton that had dropped from bales in transit, now not a flake can be seen. In the presses, like scrupulous care is taken.

A chief supervisor is chosen by the Board of Directors of the Exchange, and with him the necessary number of assistants. The chief visits all the presses to see that the work of supervision is properly carried on. The assistants see that all loose cotton is gathered up and weighed; all samples taken from the bales by the factors' samplers and brokers' classers are also weighed and a record kept of the same.

When, after compression, the cotton is sent to the ship, it comes under the charge of the chief levee inspector and his assistants.

These protect it from weather and depredations, and prevent its being placed on board in a damaged condition without the knowledge of the master; and when the vessel clears at the Custom-House the chief levee inspector draws up a certificate setting forth the condition in which the cargo was taken on board.

When our bale arrives at the wharf the drayman's receipt is signed, the bale rolled off the float, and the stevedore's men take hold of it and in a moment it is in the hold. Here a gang of screwmen, with their powerful jackscrews, in spite of all its solidity, force it into a remarkably small space between other bales, and there it rests until the cargo is broken in Liverpool or Havre.

It may return in French calico or bobbinet mosquito bars. It may turn up as lawn, for dainty dresses for the spring wear of society belles, or as Balbriggan half-hose for the sterner side of humanity.

Its identity is lost, however, and the fleecy fibres that grew together in the patch on the banks of the Ouachita may be distributed from the harem of the Shah to the jungles of the Amazon.




The monuments of New Orleans are numerous and handsome. While the founder of the city is without one. if we may except a bas relief in the central room of the Customhouse ; while, indeed, not one of the many of the native Creoles who have obtained high positions in the world of literature and art has received recognition, the city has raised memorials to more than a dozen persons.

Another case of neglect, fully as great as that shown Bienville, is the decayed condition of the monument erected in honor of the battle of New Orleans.

The Jackson monument, as this is called, on the plains of Chalmette, named in honor of the old bachelor planter who owned the grounds—Chalmette—is situated about a mile below the slaughter-house. You reach it via the Levee & Barracks cars and a walk along the levee.

The monument is in a very dilapidated and forlorn condition. The base is of brick, supporting a shaft of brick, faced with marble. The steps within are of iron, but many of them are gone. The roof, of wood, is very nearly fallen in, rain-stained and sun-scorched. Time, wind and rain have played havoc with it, and there is really very little roof left, and what there is, is in a shaky condition and liable to be blown down in the first heavy storm. Over all the walls are scratched the names of venturous souls who hope to make their names also immortal.

The monument was begun between 1830 and 1840, the Legislature making appropriations sufficient to cover the first expense. The appropriation, however, was not renewed, and the monument was left in its present neglected condition.

On the other hand. New Orleans can claim some credit for raising the only monument to a woman ever erected in the United States. In a little grassy plot of ground at the intersection of Camp and Prytania streets, stands the white marble figure of a woman, inscribed with the simple name, " Margaret." Seated in a chair with a shawl around her shoulders and one arm thrown around the neck of a child, is the figure of the deceased Margaret Haughery, " the orphans' friend." The location is well selected, for it faces the Female Orphan Asylum, toward the establishment of which Margaret did so much. The woman whom it is intended to honor, was unable either to read or write, but by her energy acquired a considerable fortune, all the income from which was given to the various orphan asylums of New Orleans, without regard to sect; and at her death a few years ago, the whole of her fortune was bequeathed for their support.

Clay Statue on Canal street where Royal and St. Charles meet, is the official centre of the city, all the distances being computed from that point. The corner stone was laid by the Clay Statue Association on April 12th, 1856. The inauguration, which called out one of the grandest and largest public gatherings that ever took place in New Orleans, was on the 12th of April, 1860. On that occasion Col. J. B. Walton acted as Grand Marshal and Col. J. O. Nixon as First Assistant-Marshal. Joel T. Hart, of Kentucky, the artist who gave form and proportions to the Clay Statue, was present at the inauguration, and Wm. H. Hunt, Esq., was the orator of the day.

A circle of fifty feet in diameter, surmounted with an iron railing, and a flight of hexagon shape granite steps, each one smaller than the one on which it rests, forms the foundation on which the pedestal and statue rest. The pedestal, like the foundation, is of granite.

The statue itself is a perfect likeness of the illustrious statesman. Its height is about fifteen feet. This, with the foundation circle, steps and oedestal, makes it stand some forty feet high.

The marble statue of Franklin in the centre of Lafayette square is connected with the story of the great American sculptor, Hiram Powers, the author of the "Greek Slave.*' When Powers first went to Italy to study art, a number of New Orleans people, in order to assist him, ordered from him a statue of Benjamin, for which they paid five thousand dollars in advance ; while the State of Louisiana gave him fifteen thousand for a statue of Washington. This was in 1844, before Powers had won the reputation he afterwards enjoyed. The statue, however, was not completed, and the war intervening, the original gift to Powers was forgotten, until 1869, when the matter was brought up again. Powers then agreed to complete the statue, which was dor.c in 1871, and it was given to the city upon the condition that a granite base should be erected A series of contretemps followed. The statue arrived, but by some mistake was advertised for sale; the granite for the pedestal was shipped from Boston, but lost at sea ; a second lot was never heard of, and it was not until 1873 that the statue was finally erected on its present location.

The statue of General Robert E. Lee, in Lee circle, at the intersection of St. Charles avenue and Delord street, was unveiled during the carnival of 1883, in the presence of an immense multitude, and while a severe rain and wind storm was raging. The statue stands on a pillar, which rises in the center of a large mound. The pillar, which is 100 feet high, is hollow, and a stairway in the center gives access to a small chamber at the top immediately under the statue, from which a view of the city can be obtained. The statue is a colossal of bronze representing Lee with folded arms surveying the scene of battle.

The Jackson monument, in Jackson square, is the first equestrian statue ever produced representing the horse in the act of rearing. This peculiar attitude was the invention of Clark Mills, who designed the statue, and is rendered possible by making the fore part of the animal hollow, while the remainder is solid.

The monument was erected in 1851, the money for this purpose being raised by popular subscription, the largest contribution coming from Madame Pontalba, who owned the rows of buildings opposite, and who placed the square, the old Place d'Armes, in which the statue stands, in its present condition. At the cemeteries are a number of statues memorial of the war, which have been described in a previous chapter.



The topographical features of New Orleans are peculiar to lower Louisiana. The land is highest on the immediate bank of the rivers and bayous, and consequently the rain-water flows from the river to the swamp, as the low back-lands are styled before they are cleared and drained.

New Orleans was laid out and settled in 1718. The plan showed a front of eleven blocks (from Custom House to Barrack streets) on the Mississippi River, by a depth of only five blocks from the river to Burgundy street.

Small ditches led the rain-fall into the swamp. The swamp drained slowly into Lake Pontchartrain, by the Bayou St. John and some smaller bayous.

This rough natural drainage existed many years without change (except a few private canals), until Louisiana was purchased by the United States in 1803. New Orleans began to increase, as appears by the petition of the City Council on the 20th July, 1805, to the Governor, asking to have the fortifications demolished and the ditches filled up.

Up to the 19th March, 1835, the street gutters were gradually extended into the swamp, and a few draining canals had been made, viz.: The Melpomene, from St. Charles to Willow streets, the Canal Gravier, on Poydras from Baronne street to a branch of Bayou St. John, Canal street from Claiborne street to a branch of Bayou St. John, and Orleans street from Claiborne street to Bayou St. John; St. Bernard from St. Claude street to Bayou St. John, and the old Marigny canal from Elysian Fields street, via Marigny avenue, to the Bayou St. John; in Claiborne, from Canal Carondelet to Ursulines street.

A draining machine was built by the city at Bayou St. John, at the junction of the draining canal on Orleans street, about 1830.

The upper suburbs drained into New Orleans canal, which had cut off the drainage of Bayou St. John.

By an act of the Legislature, approved 19th March, 1835, a draining: company was organized to "drain, fill up, and improve the territory from the river to Lake Pontchartrain, between Harmony street above, and the Fishermen's canal, below the city;" and went to work as required, by cutting down the forest between the city and the Metairie Ridge, and digging several draining canals, viz.: Claiborne, Galvez, Broad, Hagan, Carrollton.

By an act of the Legislature of 20th March, 1839, a special district for drainage was formed between Claiborne street, Carondelet Canal, Metairie (2) Ridge, Bayou (1) St. John, and N. O. Canal.

By Act 18th March, 1858, three draining districts were created, each with a separate administration, viz.:

Fikst District— All lands within the river, Julia street, N. O. Canal, Lake Pontchartrain, Bayou St. John, Carondelet Canal, and St. Peter street.

Second District— All lands within the river, Julia street, N. O. Canal, the Lake, Jefferson & Lake Pontchartrain Railroad, to the river-bank.

Third District— All lands within the river, St. Peter street, Carondelet Canal, Bayou St. John, the Lake, Lafayette avenue, to the river-bank.

Fourth District— River, Florida avenue, Lafayette avenue, and Fishermen's CanaL

Under these different acts, the whole of the territory, from the upper line of Carrollton to Lafayette avenue, has received more or less improvements in its drainage.

In 1871 further improvements were made and seven draining machines constructed, with a capacity of 3,000,000 gallons per hour for each wheel, at a lift of seven feet.

In the year 1804, when the city extended only from ahout Canal street to Esplanade and from the river to about Burgundy street, there were no sidewalks or gutters, but only ordinary ditches ■ the city was irrigated by means of wooden pipes laid through the levee at the head of each and every street perpendicular to the river, and which flushed the ditches only during high water, say for about four months, from April to the beginning of August.

Later, the city being more densely populated, the necessity of a larger supply of water was felt; wooden curbs and gutters having been laid, the City Council, in 1813, contracted with a French civil engineer named Latrobe, to construct and erect a "pompe a feu " (steam pump) at the corner of Old Levee (now Decatur) and Ursulines streets, and to lay the necessary pipes (wooden) on said Decatur, from Esplanade to Canal streets. The site of the " pompe a feu " is where the fish market now stands. The "pompe a feu " within a few months, was completed and set to work. The wooden pipe being found of insufficient size and capacity was, in 1815, taken up, and a twelve-inch cast-iron pipe substituted. This pipe is still in existence, but, no doubt, in very bad condition. The " pompe a feu " was in constant daily use from the time of its erection to about 1840 or 1841, when it was abolished for the erection of the fish market.

In 1844 the necessity of flushing the gutters as an important factor in the sanitation of the city being more and more keenly felt, the council of the first municipality, through its surveyor, had a steam pump erected on the site of the present fruit market, using the old twelve-inch iron pipe, which had been laid years before. Said pipe, from its insufficient strength, bursting in innumerable places, the steam-pump was abandoned and the fruit market erected on its site.

Again, in 1858, the indispensable necessity of flushing the gutters asserting itself, many reports made by the city surveyor on this all-important question brought the council to the decision of having the proper pipes laid and the necessary building and steam-pumps erected. The work was immediately begun, and contracts were entered into for furnishing the necessary outfit, etc. A thirty-inch pipe was laid on Delta, from Canal to Claiborne streets, an iron building to contain the steam-pumps erected at the head of Canal street, and the contract for furnishing and erecting the pumps entered into with a St. Louis firm. The war broke out at that time, and the project was, perforce, abandoned.

But despite these canals, draining machines, levees, etc., New Orleans is often the victim of overflow. It can be flooded in three ways :

By a heavy rainfall, peculiar to tropical countries, and which is too great for the gutters and canals to carry off ; by Lake Pontchartrain, when the level of the lake is raised by contrary winds, its waters flooding the rear of the city, and by the Mississippi river, from crevasses or breaks in the levees.

In 1718, the year after the selection of the site of the city of New Orleans, there was an extraordinary rise of the Mississippi, which greatly discouraged the new settlers. A great flood occurred in 1735, which inundated the city. The flood of 1735 was continuous for an unusual length of time, from late in December to iate in June, and the succeeding low water was remarkably low. The records of the flood years from 1735 to 1770 are wanting, but in the latter year a great flood occurred, with its usual inundations. In 1782 there was a flood which it was said exceeded any remembered by the oldest inhabitants. Great floods occurred in 1785, 1796 and 1799, and during each of these years New Orleans was inundated.

The noted overflow of 1816 commenced on the sixth of May and subsided in twenty-five days. The suburbs and rear portions of the city were submerged from three to five feet. One could travel in a skiff from the corner of Chartres and Canal streets to Dauphine, down Dauphine to Bienville, down Bienville to Burgundy, thus to St. Louis street, and from St. Louis to Rampart and throughout the rear suburbs. No increase of disease was referred to that overflow.

In 1831, the waters of an iuundation reached the line of Dauphine street, the fifth from the

river front, the result of a violent storm in Lake Pontchartrain. A similar event occurred in 1837. In 1844, a storm backed the lake waters up to Burgundy street, sixth from the river front, and the same disaster happened again in 1846. The overflow of 1849, following the Sauve crevasse, of the third of May, has been regarded as the most serious overflow with which New Orleans has ever suffered.

The water reached its highest stage on the thirtieth of May. The line of the flood ran along Bacchus (Baronne) street, sometimes reached to Carondelet, from che upper limits of Lafayette to Canal street, covei-ed that street, between Carondelet and St. Charles street, and thence to the Old Basin. About 220 inhabited squares were flooded, more than 2,000 tenements surrounded by water etc., a population of 12,000 souls either driven from their homes, or leading a life of privations and suffering.

During the high water of 1884, Algiers, Gretna, and all the western suburbs of New Orleans were badly flooded from the Davis' crevasse, which occurred some miles above the city in St. Charles. A visit to the overflowed portion of town revealed a scene of great devastation.

As far as the eye coald penetrate there extended one vast sheet of water, swallowing up all the small farms upon which New Orleans largely depended for its supply of vegetables. Acres of corn-fields were ruined; the houses were tipping from side to side; an occasional face looked out at a broken window as if beseeching bread and meat; on every hand were marks of suffering and sorrow. One deserted house toppling about in the slow sweeping current had left, as the last vestige of its former habitation, a flower-pot holding a geranium plant upon the pig-pen which still bobbed about in the back yard.

A small stern-wheel craft was for several weeks used as a hearse, and was seen moored against a tall board fence.

The graveyard was entirely submerged, except a few rows of the top vaults. Potter's Field was invisible. The colored graveyards, St. John and St. Mary, were both under water.

On the race-track in the rear of Gretna the water was about six feet deep, and the old Brooklyn stock-yard was completely submerged. Two solitary trees and a lonely grave gone adrift, still surrounded by its palings, were all that indicated that terra firma existed in the locality.

On the line of the Morgan road was found an old house and saw-mill, crowded with negroes. In one room there were a woman and six children ; in another a mother with a family of four ; altogether there were twenty human beings in the one old rookery. They were completely surrounded by water, and without means to procure provisions. They had been living on crawfish for two days. Their little patches of garden " sass " and vegetable truck had disappeared forever.

In the rear of Algiers it was the same story, gardens flooded and houses ruined or washed away altogether from the foundations.

At the graveyards, where seven-foot pickets formed a fence, but about seven inches appeared above the water.

St. Joseph's Catholic Cemetery was all submerged, and coffins were seen floating away in various directions.

In many houses people were living and cooking in the garrets such food as they could procure.




The Cotton Exchange, at the corner of Carondelet and Gravier streets, is considered by many the handsomest and most graceful building in the city. The building is of the ornate Italian style of architecture, elaborately carved and ornamented.

The Exchange Room proper is situated on the ground floor of the building, and extends from Carondelet street back to Varieties alley, a distance of 100 feet, with a width of 50 feet. There is, perhaps, no room on this side the Atlantic on the embellishment of which so much time and pains have been expended.

On first entering, the visitor is surprised at the wealth of decoration, and the eye is for the moment dazed with elaborate design and prodigality of fresco. The interior is of the Renaissance style, throughout, and is one of the most gorgeous illustrations of Lienard's school.

Entering from Carondelet street, the ceiling is ornamented with three medallions in gold. In the rear of these, and bordering the four beautiful oil paintings, are medallions of most delicate tracery. The colors are of the rarest shades, from vermillion to pale lilac, and the figures wrought in these panels are exquisite.

Surrounding a beautiful centre-piece, gold, crimson and lilac, are four paintings, representing De Soto's first view of the Mississippi, a view of the jetties at South Pass, with steamers passing up, La Salle taking possession of Louisiana, and a cotton field with the cotton ready for picking.

To describe the ornamentation of the walls would be difficult. Panels with griffins' heads and ornate borders; rich friezes and rosettes with gold predominating; fruit and flowers, wreaths and festoons, everywhere meet the dazzled eye.

Supporting the ceiling four double columns, resting on pedestals, rise in beautiful symmetry in the perfection of the Renaissance style. The lower third of the columns is adorned with rosettes of a rich pattern, and give to these shafts an Indian type, although the style is French.

Near the entrance on Varieties alley is, perhaps, the chef d'ceuvre of art in the building. It is a young Triton blowing a conch shell, and stands in the centre of the fountain's bowl. The figure is of a bronze color, and the attitude is full of life.

Around the walls there are set in large slabs of slate, on which the quotations of the market and movements of cotton will be noted. These slabs are of unusual size, and were quarried for the Exchange.

As a recess from the large Exchange room, is the space devoted to the officers of the institution. Here all that taste could suggest has been done to make it par excellence the model business office of the city. An artistic rail and screen separates it from the main room, and the work is handsomely finished in oil.

The building is four stories high, and an elevator near the rear entrance transports passengers to the upper story, from which a stairway of easy ascent leads to the roof. This is inclosed by a handsome iron railing, so that parties can walk around with perfect safety. From this lofty altitude a view of the city and its surroundings can be had, scarcely to be obtained from any accessible building in the city. In clear weather Lake Pontchartrain can be distinctly seen, and the windings of the Mississippi for miles, both above and below the city. On this roof are hung the large bells, which strike both quarters and hours.


The Sugar Exchange Hall proper is of magnificent proportions, being 60x110 feet and 54 feet high from floor to skylight. It is lit on three sides by plate-glass windows, 13x24 feet, and a skylight 23 feet square. The wing building is 120x33 feet, and is two stories high. On the first floor there is a public vestibule, telegraph offices, offices of the Exchange, stair-hall, lavatory and water-closets, and a board room. On the second floor a library, 12x19, reading-room and museum, 77x20, lavatory, etc., and two committee rooms. The ventilation is through the cornice of the skylight, and the acoustics perfect. The entrances to the hall are covered by porches, and a Schillinger pavement has been laid on three sides, and on the yard in the rear as well.

Great taste has been employed by the architect in both the exterior and interior finish. Freehand ornamentation has been judiciously applied wherever practicable. Between the Exchange and the sugar sheds was formerly a triangular islet of city property used as a general dumping ground for worn-out machinery, lumber and trash. This islet the Council set aside for a public park, and appointed its commissioners from the members of the Sugar Exchange. On it trees and shrubs have been planted, the surface sodded and walks laid out, and the whole surrounded by a high dressed curb, with a Schillinger banquette at the Bienville street side, the base of the triangle.


Thirty years ago, the First Municipality of New Orleans offered the United States its choice of several squares, to be conveyed in fee simple, provided a Custom-house, worthy of the growing commerce of the city, would be erected on the ground chosen. The United States accepting the proposition, the Secretary of the Treasury selected the " Custom-house Square " as the most eligible of those offered, and in a short time thereafter the plans of A. T. Wood were adopted, November 22d, 1847, and the work commenced October 23d, 1848. The work was carried on with greater or less expedition, according to the means at disposal, till the war, when, for a time, it was entirely suspended. After the war, work was begun again, and is still going on. In the centre of the Custom-house is the finest business room in the world. The size of the entire room is 125x95 feet; the height -from floor to glass dome or ceiling—fifty-four feet. Fourteen lofty columns are placed so as to give the central part of the room, a space of 45 x 65 feet, for the use of the general public, and outside of that for the accommodation of the officers and clerks. The columns are of the Corinthian order with Attic bases ; the lower portion of the shafts plain and polished ; the capitals varied to allow designs indicative of the purposes of the room. At the top of each capital is a basso-rilievo of Juno, and another of Mercury, and designs of cotton and tobacco plants. These are so arranged that each faces its opposite on every column, and by looking at four capitals from any position, all the designs can be comprehended at a glance. The floor is laid out, in pattern, of black and white marble, in tiles, each two feet square, with borders in black marble from column to column. Sixteen light holes are cut in the floor, four feet six inches in diameter, floored with glass one inch thick, cast on a hammered surface to break the rays of light, and ground to a smooth surface, presenting the appearance of green marble. Each plate is the centre of a star, handsomely inlaid with black marble. The room is heated by steam, the steam coils being suspended in the floor from the arches, and shielded by hexagon pedestals with marble tops. In this hall is to be seen a marble figure in basso-rilievo of Bienville, the only monument of its founder, the city possesses ; one of Jackson and of some others connected with the history of New Orleans.


The Louisiana Jockey Club was chartered May 15, 1871, for the purpose of establishing a racecourse for the advancement of racing and improving the breed of horses, and the erection or the purchase and equipment of a club house for the social enjoyment of the members. The stock of the Association was fixed at $100,000 in 1,000 shares. By agreement with the Fair Grounds

Association, the Club was given the exclusive use of the racecourse, for four weeks before and during each Spring and Fall meeting, for the period of twenty years, upon condition of erecting upon the grounds a Public Stand of the value of $20,000, which is to revert to the Association at the end of the period of the lease, without incumbrance.

The Club bought the property adjoining the Fair grounds, which was once the residence of Mr. Luling, for $60,000. It has a front of 500 feet on Esplanade street, by 2,500 deep, with an area of nearly 30 acres, situated on the Metairie Ridge and exempt from overflow. The grounds are well arranged and thickly set with choice shrubbery. The family mansion has been converted into a club house. It is a substantial and handsome three-story brick edifice, with a gallery extending entirely around it at each story. The lofty, wide and airy rooms are employed for reception and dining rooms, parlors, library, reading and billiard rooms, restaurants, etc., all very handsomely and liberally furnished, most of the oaken furniture being elaborately carved by hand. The other buildings on the premises are in keeping with the main house, consisting of bowling alley, pavillion, kitchen, and ten costly stables, with ample room for a hundred horses.

The flower garden contains an extensive collection of indigenous and exotic plants and flowers comprising all the rarer varieties to be found in the temperate zone or within the tropics. The adjoining Park has a great number of forest trees of every kind, and orchards of orange, peach and apple trees, and grapevines, all bearing plentifully in their proper seasons. In the centre of the Park is a lake of pure fresh water surrounding a small island. Here the Club gives during the summer and fall, its fanious promenade concerts where are collected each night several thousand of the leading people in New Orleans.


The highest building in New Orleans is the Shot Tower, situated on the corner of St. Joseph and Foucher streets. A visit to its summit will give one the best idea of New Orleans topography, and decidedly the best view obtainable of the city.

A wonderful readjuster of one's topography is this shot tower. Old canals known from childhood, when looked down upon from above, insist upon running in tangents to their supposed course. Streets curl up and decline in almost semicircles that were hitherto regarded as the most strict and straight-laced thoroughfares, and the river itself, weary with its long run from the Rockies down to our cane fields, staggers about in loops and curves like those of an unrolled ribbon on a careless milliner's counter.

An elevator capable of carrying three or even four persons, jogs along heavenward, without perceptible vibration, and the higher one goes the more comforting the thought that if the steel rope breaks the fall will not be more than three-quarters of an inch.

Speaking of this elevator recalls the remark made by the gentleman in charge of the works relative to the behavior of those who take the trip. He said that ladies show, by far, the most nerve in going up. There is no danger, of course, but some of the sterner sex feel that there is, and get up a shaky feeling on the subject, while the ladies get on the elevator and ascend without apparent concern. One able-bodied, blustering fellow said his life was too valuable to trust it to a little steel rope like that.

Several gentlemen have weakened after going up a floor or two, while the ladies " enlist for the war " and go through it bravely.

At an easy pace one passes up through the floor of the polishing and sacking room, up by the caldrons for the larger shot, which require but a short distance to fall, on up through a long vacant space until, at last, the topmost room is reached, 214 feet from the starting point. In the brisk southeast wind one fancies he feels a little vibration to the tower, but this fancy soon passes away, and the immediate surroundings are forgotten in the broad level landscape that stretches away to the deep green rim of the cypress-fringed horizon.

The Crescent City lies at our feet, but no more a city of the crescent. It stretches o\\%

rather "with a duplicate horn," and in the winding sweep of the river has a double crescent, one with the concave and the other with the convex side toward this shore—a long irregular letter S with the top at Carrollton and the last curling at the Slaughter-House. The Mississippi, diminished by the elevation, looks reduced to one-quarter its size, while the New Canal, running lakewards, modestly contracts into a good-sized ditch. Streets become narrow alleys, and broad avenues, like Canal, Claiborne, Kampart, and Esplanade, sink into long lines of green-mere borders of box growing between slated house-tops.

The Oriental eye would find no pleasure in looking down upon our roofs. Instead of the tropical level terraces, the flat tiling and afternoon resorts, there stretches away in broken surfaces as irregular as the lava beds one monotone of slate. Stiff and inartistic chimneys crop out like bits of basalt all over the picture, and leveeward tall smoke-stacks of sugar refineries and factories cover the Second district with a sombre veil of coal black. Lee Statue and its circle is a pretty little picture, the mound and walks shining out, delicate arabesque engraving on the emerald of the grass.

Annunciation and Prytania streets lead directly away from the observer, and one can watch the lazy street cars, white-backed little beetles, struggling along the two metal webs of track out into the distance.

The Custom-House is a parallelogram of gray ; the Hotel Royal a deeper strip, from which the dome, balloon-like, seems to be rising.

One of the most noticeable features of the city landscape is the prevalence everywhere of foliage. In preambulating the streets of New Orleans one sees quite a number of trees, it is true, but then there appear long stretches where not a leaf is seen from the sidewalks. Not so, however, when aloft. There every backyard gives its contribution, and trees unseen from the street stand out in soft relief. There is green everywhere, and not a section of the city but what has its quota of waving branches. From Carrollton away off to the westward, up in a bend of the river, down to the Second district, and thence to the Barracks, every square seems to possess a sylva of its own, all adding much to the restfulness of the picture.

Knowing that one goes lakewards by way of Canal street, the eye naturally seeks a view of Lake Pontchartrain by following out that avenue. In vain are the dark cypresses in that direction scanned for a glint of the water. Miles of tree tops meet the eye, but no lake. The mind is puzzled until a glance is taken in the direction straight down Magazine street, following this line up to the horizon. Then the broad surface of the lake opens upon the vision. One forgets that it lies directly north of the city in taking the cars, and its discovery away over to the northward is a surprise. Looking over the Hotel Royal, the shores and the far distant Point aux-Herbes are seen jutting out. Milneburg and Spanish Fort can be barely distinguished through the noisome smoke of the factories that are making a Pittsburg of the Second district.

A step upon the elevator, a pull on a rope, a sinking as it were into the earth, and a rising upwards of the tower, and soon the earth comes up to meet us, and we are once more upon solid ground. Sublunary things seem to have gone on about as usual since we left terra finna, and one gets a severe shock to his egotism to see how well the world got along without him for the past hour.


Academy op Music— St. Charles, opposite Perdido.

Annunciation Square —Annunciation, between Race and Orange.

Bible House Building —163 Camp.

Brown's Hall— 130 Melpomene.

Carroll Hall —Elysian Fields, corner of Dauphine.

Chamber of Commerce —120 Common.

City Hall— St. Charles, opposite Lafayette Square,

City Park— Metairie road, between Canal and Bayou St. John.

City Workhouse— Perilliat, opposite Locust.

Claiborne Hall —Adams, between Hampson and Second, 7th District.

Claiborne Market— Claiborne, between Common and Gasquet.

Clay Square— Between Chippewa and Annunciation, Second and Third.

Coliseum Hall— 51 Bienville.

Coliseum Place— Camp, between Melpomene and Felicity.

Congo Square— North Kampart, between St. Peter and St. Ann.

Court House— Chartres, between St. Peter and St. Ann.

Crescent Hall —Canal, s. corner of St. Charles.

Custom House— Canal, between Decatur and Peters.

Des Francs Amis Hall— X. Robertson, between St. Anthony and Bourbon.

Douglas Square— Between Howard and Freret, Third and Washington avenue.

Dryades Market— Dryades, spanning Melpomene.

Eagle Eall— Prytania, corner of Felicity.

Economy Hall— 218 Ursulines.

Fair Grounds— Gentilly road, east of Esplanade street.

Fillmore Square— Between Howard and Freret, Third and Fifth.

Franklin Temperance Hall— N. Rampart, corner of Spain.

French Market— N. Peters and Decatur, from St. Ann to Ursulines.

Germania Masonic Hall— 316 St. Louis.

Grunewald Hall— Baronne, between Canal and Common.

Heptasoph Hall— Corner of Bienville and Exchange alley.

Hermitage Hall —Tchoupitoulas, near Jackson.

Immaculate Conception Hall— 194 St. Anthony.

Jackson Square— Between Decatur and Chartres, St. Peter and St. Ann.

Jefferson City Market— N. Magazine, between Napoleon avenue and Berlin.

Lafayette Square— Between Camp and St. Charles, North and South.

Lawrence Square —Between Magazine and Camp, Napoleon avenue and Berlin.

Lusitanian Portuguese Bbnevolent Society's Hall— 203 Bayou road.

Lutheran Hall— S. Gravier, between Howard and Freret.

Magazine Market— Between Camp and Magazine, St. Andrew and St, Mary.

Masonic Hall— St. Charles, opposite Commercial place.

Masonic Temple —St. Peter, corner of St. Claude.

McCarthy Square— Between Burgundy and N. Rampart, Pauline and Jeanne.

Minerva Hall— 138 Clio.

New Opera House— Bourbon, corner of Toulouse.

Ninth Street Market —Magazine, between Ninth and Harmony.

Odd Fellows' Hall— Camp, between Lafayette and Poydras.

Parish Prison— Orleans, between N. Liberty and Marais.

Perfect Union Hall— N. Rampart, between Dumaine and St. Philip.

Perseverance Masonic Hall— Dumaine, corner of St. Claude.

Philharmonia Hall— Patterson, between Olivier and Verret, 5th dist. (Algiers).

Pilie Market— Poydras, between S. Rampart and S. Basin.

Pontalba Buildings— St. Peter and St. Ann, between Decatur and Chartres.

Polar Star Hall— N. Rampart, corner of Kerlerec.

Port Market— N. Peters, between Marigny and Elysian Fields.

Poydras Market— Poydras, between Baronne and S. Rampart.

Second Street Market— Second, corner of Dryades.

Soraparu Market— Soraparu, between Tchoupitoulas and Rosseau.

St. Anthony Place— Royal, between St. Ann and St. Peter.

St. Bebnard Market— St. Bernard avenue, corner of N. Claiborne.

St. Charles Theatre— St. Charles, between Commercial place and Poydras.

St. Mary's Hall— Short, corner of Hampson, 7th dist. (Carrollton).

St. Stephen's Hall— Napoleon avenue, corner of Chestnut.

Stonewall Jackson Hall— 27 Elysian Fields.

Temperance Hall— 67 Josephine, 4th dist.

Teutonia Hall— 23 Exchange alley.

Treme Market— Orleans, between Marais and N. Robertson.

Union Hall —5 Commercial place, corner of Camp.

United States Barracks— South of city limits.

United States Branch Mint and Sub-Treasury— Esplanade, corner of N. Peters.

United States Custom-House— Canal, between Decatur and N. Peters.

University Buildings— Common, between Baronne and Dryades.

Washington Market— Chartres, corner of Louisa.

Washington Square— Between Royal and Dauphine, Frenchmen and Elysian Fields.


The following is a list of the Mayors of New Orleans who have occupied the office since the acquisition of Louisiana by the United States in the year 1803. Previously the office corresponding to that of mayor was held under appointment by the French government, and it was by the first Legislature that met in 1804, that the office of mayor was created.

Pitot, James, — Mayor from 10th of June, 1804 to 1806.

Watkins, John from 1806 to 1807.

Mather, Jos '. " 1807 to 1812.

Girod, N ' ; 1812 to 1815.

McCarthy, Aug., " 1815 to 1820.

Rouffignac, J., " 1820 to 1828.

Prieur, Denis, •' 1828 to 1838.

Genois, C, " 1838 to 1840.

Freret, Wm " 1840 to 1844.

Montegut, E., " 1844 to 1846.

Crossman, A. D " 1846 to 1854.

Lewis, John L, " 1854 to 1856.

Waterman, Chas. M " 1856 to 1858.

Stith, Gerard, " 1858 to 1860.

Monroe, John T " 1860 to 1862.

Shepley, G. F., (acting military), May, 1862.

Weitzel, G., " '■ July, 1862.

French, Jonas H., " " August, 1862.

Deming, H. C, " " Sept'ber, 1862.

Miller, Jas. F., " " Nov'ber, 1862.

Hoyt, Stephen, " " July, 1864.

Quincy, S. M., " " May, 1865.

Kennedy, H., " from 1865 to 1866.

Monroe. J. T " 1866 to 1866.

Heath, E., military appointee, 1866.

Conway, J. R " 1866 to 1868.

Flanders, B. F., •' 1868 to 1872.

Wiltz, L. A " 1872 to 1874.

Leeds, C. J., ,. ,,,---,,,,.,, " 1874 to 1876.

Pation, Isaac from 1876 to 1878.

" 1878 to 1880.

Shakspeare, Jos., " 1880 to 1882.

Behan, W. J.. " 1882 to 1884.

Guilotte, J. V., " 1884.


Argentine Republic— Wallace Ogden, consul, 179 Common.

Austria-Hungary— Baron Meysenbug, consul, 71 Carondelet.

Bolivia— Joseph P. Macheca, consul, 7 S. Front.

Brazil— Allain Eustis, vice-consul, 53 N. Rampart.

Costa Rica —J. A. Quintero, consul, 66 Camp.

Denmark— H. F. Klumpp, consul, 42 Union, 1st dist.

France— Paul d'Abzac, consul, 92 Royal.

German Empire— John Kruttschnitt, consul, 63 Carondelet.

Great Britain— A. de G. de Fonblanque, consul, 13 Carondelet.

Greece— N. M. Benachi, consul, 44 Perdido.

Guatemala— E. Martinez, consul, 256 Customhouse.

Honduras —L. M. Avendano, consul, 155 Common.

Italy— A. Greppi, consul, 69 Bourbon.

Mexico —J. Francisco de Zamacona, consul, room 1, 28 Natchez.

Netherlands— Adolph Schreiber, consul, 31 Perdido.

Norway and Sweden— George Gerdes, vice-consul, 173 Common.

Russia— J. F. Schroder, consul, 62 Baronne.

Spain— Jose Sanchez-Bazan, consul.

Switzerland— X. Weissenbach, consul, 169 Gravier.

United States of Columbia— Em. Martinez, consul, 256 Customhouse.

Venezuela— Em. Martinez, consul, 256 Customhouse.



The little town over the river, formerly known as Algiers, now incorporated as a part of the city of New Orleans under the title of the Fifth distinct, has a history, and an interesting one.

Many are the queries as to when, why and by whom the peculiar name came to be given to the little burg. All sorts of answers and explanations have been offered, some even asserting that Lafitte and his pirate followers, having, in the very teeth of the authorities, made the town an occassional rendezvous, it was likened to the whilom resort of pirates and corsairs on the African coast of the Mediterranean, and, accordingly, dubbed Algiers. However plausible this stoiy may appear, no authenticity is attached to it, but it has been definitely settled that the baptism was as novel as the name.

It appears that somewhat over fifty years ago there was in the employ of a worthy and venerable townsman, Captain Peter Marcy, at that time largely interested in shipyards and docks, a young carpenter known to every one simply by his Christian name of Philip. Originally from New York, he was usually a light-hearted, jolly, good-natured fellow, fonder of his cups than of his tools. Philip would occassionally take "a drop too much," get on " a tear," and have a good time generally. While on one of these occasional sprees, after returning from the city one evening in a very alcoholic, irascible, combative mood, he began by inveighing against the village and its people, and wound up by applying the epithet of Algerines to the latter, intimating that they were no better than the piratical inhabitants of the African Algiers.

From that day to this the appellation has clung with the tenacity of Algiers mud, and the place has been popularly known by its outlandish name. Not even the recent incorporation and legal change of name was sufficiently effective to obliterate the old name, and it will probably be called Algiers for generations to come. Poor Philip was one of the many victims of the first of the two terribly destructive cholera epidemics of 1832, said to have been brought down from up the river on the steamboat "Constitution." He died unmourned and unsung, but lives in history as the Father of Algiers !

The corporate limits of Algiers, as the Fifth district of New Orleans, extend lengthwise from McDonoghville, now Gouldsboro, at the upper line of Orleans parish, right bank, inclusive of half of the village, down to the lower limit of the parish, including the suburb of Tunisburg, or Leesburg, a distance of about twelve miles, and from the river back to the swamp, a distance of about three miles. The population is computed to be about 10,000 inhabitants. i The site of Algiers was originally that of the Duverje sugar plantation, and in the infantile years of the settlement it was known as Bourg Duverje or Duverjeville. The plantation extended from the point at which Verret street is now located to the present site of McDonoghville, a distance of 1-1 arpents front on the river. The first titles show that this tract of land was originally granted to one Louis Borepo, on February 3, 1770, by the Spanish government, under the regime of the celebrated Celtic Spaniard. Don Alexander O'Reilly. On December 12 of the same year Borepo sold the entire grant to one Jacques Rixner, who, on October 31, 1777, again sold it to one P. Burgaud. The latter left it by will, dated February 6, 1786, to one Martial Lebeuf. On August 9, 1805, the plantation was purchased from Lebeuf for $18,000 by Barthelemi Duverje, the grandfather of the brothers Numu and Charles Olivier, who are the present heads of the family, On the 14th of the game month in whi.^h the final purchase was made, Duverje

sold the upper four arpents front, adjoiuing the site of McDonoghville, to oue Toussaint Mossy.

The land comprised between what is now Verret and Vallette streets was the property of a Mme. Gosselin, who, about the year 1834, sold the upper half, extending from Verret to Olivier streets, to Mr. J. B. Olivier, son-in-law of Mr. Duverje and father of Messrs. Nurna and Charles. The lower half, from Olivia to Gosselin (now Vallette) street, was purchased from Mme. Gosselin. in the same year, by a company of capitalists. Through courtesy to Mr. Francois Vallette. one of these capitalists, the name of Gosselin street was changed to that of Vallette.

All of the section from Vallette street down to the Algiers slaughter-house was then a sugar plantation, owned by the widow of Barthelemi Duverje and M. Furcy Verret. Upon the deat t of Mme. Duverje the property was divided, Mi\ Verret taking the central portion and the hci:* receiving the upper and lower ends. The heirs afterward sold a small section of the upper portion, including the site of the present Vallette dry-dock yard, to Messrs. Francois Vallette and Mark Thomas, and, a short while after, an adjoining section, about 400 feet front, extending back about a mile, to the Belleville Iron Works Company, J. P. Whitney, president, for $25,0,0. one-half in company's stock. The name of Belleville was given to the suburb. Of the portion of the plantation owned by Mr. Verret the space from the lower line of the Belleville Iron Works property to where the Morgan Railroad depot now stands was sold by him for 880,000 to the company of capitalists above mentioned, who erected warehouses along the entire river front, principally for the storage of salt. This suburb was called Brooklyn, and the warehouses known as the Brooklyn warehouses, one of which is still standing, in comparatively good preservation, immediately above the Morgan ferry landing.

Next to the Brooklyn purchase, about 400 feet frontage of the land was purchased from Mr. Verret by the Opelousas Railroad Company, for $2-5,000, one-half in shares of the company. Of the 400 feet remaining of the Verret portion, the entire river front, extending back to the public road, was sold by his heirs to the Morgan Company for $20,000, upon which have since been erected the steamship wharves and cotton-press of the company.

The Verret Canal was sold for $20,000 to the same company of capitalists who purchased the Gosselin and Brooklyn tracts. The canal, now dry and long disused, had been excavated by Mr. Verret for the purpose of draining the sugar plantation jointly owned by him and Mme. Duverje. It was connected with the Mississippi river by a flood gate in the levee long since closed.

Next to the Verret Canal was the portion, one arpent front, of Mrs. Franklin Wharton, nee Duverje, who also sold it to the purchasers of the Verret Canal for $20,000. Next was the residence and grounds, one arpent front, of Mme. Barthelemi Duverje, sold at the same time for $8,000 to Mme. Mace, a well-known fashionable modiste of the olden time. Her richly furnished establishment was located at the corner of Chartres and Customhouse streets, and she was considered the Mme. Olympe of those days, the latter having been a graduate^of Mme. Mace's establishment.

Right below the Verret estate was the property of Mr. J. B. Olivier, occupying three and two-thirds arpents frontage by a depth of 35 arpents. Fronting on the public road was Mr. Olivier's fine summer residence, his family spending the winters at his mansion on Esplanade street and the summers in Algiers. At the breaking out of the war the Algiers mansion was taken possession of by the Federal government and used as a contraband or negro hospital. The house had been completely furnished with all comforts and conveniences, and when the hospital was discontinued and the property returned to the owner, it was found that everything had been taken away and the grounds and out-houses completely ruined. Not even a fence was left and the woods in the rear of the estate had been burnt down. The land in the rear of the residence had been used as a burying ground, and when the remains were tranferred to Chalmette after the war. it was found that 1,500 negro soldiers had been buried there.

The large, imposing briek building on Villere, between Seguin and Barthelemy streets, a short distance from the Canal street ferry landing, and now used as the Court House and eighth.

precinct police station, was built in 1812 by Mr. Barthelemi Duver.je, the founder of Algiers, and occupied as a residence until his death in 1820. His widow, some years afterward removed to the residence below Verret's Canal, afterward sold to Mme. Mace. The mansion was built with the strength of a fortress, and will last for centuries. From Algiers, the entire distance down to Tunisburg is lined with beautiful residences, delightfully situated, amid orange and peach orchards, flowers and shrubbery.

Although the highest point along the river south of Baton Rouge—this is so of the land from the Planter's Oil Works to the Third District Levee—Algiers has been badly flooded at times, particularly by the Bell crevasse of 1856, and the Davis crevasse of 1884, which submerged the entire rear portion of town and compelled the building of a protection levee several squares back from the river to prevent the front portion being flooded.

Near the line of Jefferson parish is an historical building, whose site has rarely been visited even by New Orleans people.

We refer to the residence of the late John McDonogh, wherein millions of dollars were saved and accumulated by that eccentric, but strangely large-hearted old miser. He was a miser, but his will proved him to have been a man of wide philanthropic views, which he left to others to execute after his death.

The old McDonogh house was submerged by an inundation on the twenty-third of December, 1861, The cause of the crevasse was, that a few days previous, the house, used as a powder magazine by the Confederate troops, was shaken to its very foundations by an explosion, brought about in some mysterious way. The concussion shook the building terribly and weakened the levee in front of it.

In this antiquated building, on the 29th of December, 1838, was written that famous will of John McDonogh,the meaning of which all the lawyers and courts of Louisiana failed to understand. The will had to be sent to the "Courde Cassation" at Paris to be interpreted. Coin-Delisle. Delangly Giraud, Morcade, and other famous French jurists, wrestled with that will, and finally made a report on it to the " Cour de Cassation." The funds were eventually divided between Baltimore and New Orleans, and the manner in which the interest on the money was administered can now be seen in the half-score of magnificent schoolhouses built with the McDonogh fund.

Within a half mile from the McDonogh mansion is the tomb of McDonogh. Therein his body lay for some time, until its removal to Baltimore. He died on the 29th of October, 1850, leaving the most valuable succession ever administered in the State of Louisiana. His tomb is inscribed all over with maxims, especially Franklin's maxims, which can still be deciphered. One of McDonogh's requests in his will was that every year children should come to scatter flowers and hang garlands over his grave. Has this simple provision been carried out by those who have handled his ducats ? No ; few know where McDonogh's tomb is, or that his remains have been carried to Baltimore. But his tomb is still there, in Algiers, and surely some one should see that annually the children, those for whom McDonogh has done so much, should scatter flowers and hang garlands over his grave.

One mile below Algiers is a sugar-house erected by the Spaniards in the time of O'Reilly. It is still there, on the Camus plantation, and its solidity, massiveness and durability can well be compared to the pyramids of Egypt,

About one mile below, on the Camus place, is the hamlet of Tunisburg, and there stands an old-fashioned mansion, surrounded by a grove of cedar trees, a mansion wherein Jefferson Davis lived for a time. He bought the place from his father-in-law, William B. Howell, Esq., then an officer in the Custom House, on the 3d of January, 1853. This property was seized by the United States] authorities and sold under the Confiscation Act, by Cuthbert Bullitt, then United States marshal, in May, 1865. It was bought by Jos. Cazanbon for a nominal sum. The sale only annulled the life interest of Jefferson Davis in the property, but did not touch his heirs; therefore, when later, Cazanbon, for a consideration, obtained a title of "quitclaim" from Jefferson Davis, he acted wisely and intelligently.

The ship-yards and dry-dock-; of Algiers have always constituted its chief industries, and at least three-fourths of the population depend upon them for their daily bread. The first ship-yard, with ways, was established, in 1819, by Andre Seguin, a native of Havre, France, on the bend of the river, nearly opposite the French Market, and at the head of the street since named after him. The ground was purchased from the heirs of Barthelemi Duverje, and was the first piece of property sold by them. The Seguin ship-yard was afterward operated by Francois Vallette as a ship and spar-yard. This was about the year 1837. After passing out of his hands it was occupied for a long time by James Bass as a saw-mill. At the close of the war Messrs. Vail & Follette operated the yard, and erected steam marine ways, the ruins of which still remain. The marine ways passed into the hands of Olsen & Lawson, and from them to Cothrell, Brady & McLellan. Since they have given up possession the site has been only occasionally used as a ship-yard.

Several attempts have been made to establish a navy-yard in Algiers. It is not generally known ; but such is the actual fact that the site for a yard has long since been located and purchased by the United States Government. In 1856 a resolution was presented in Congress asking for an appropriation to establish a navy-yard and dry-docks in Algiers. The appropriation was granted and, in the same year, a tract of land, about half a mile below the present Morgan depot, with a front of two arpents and a depth of fifteen arpents, was purchased from Mr. Bienaime Dupeire. But the ground has never been used for its original purpose, and it is now occupied by negroes, who, in consideration of a small rental, use it for the raising of vegetables for market.

Toward the end of the war seven or eight United States monitors were moored in front of this property and lay there until about six or seven years ago, when the guns, ammunition, etc., were taken to the Pensacola navy-yard, and the hulls and machinery sold at public auction. Among these hulls, those of the "Kickapoo," "Cherokee " and "Winnebago" were used by their purchasers as hulls for the steamboats "Henry Frank," "Charles P. Chouteau" and "Carondelet."

The first dry dock in Algiers was the Paducah dock, so called because it was built at Paducah, Ky., in 1837 or 1838, and brought to Algiers in the same year. It was owned by Messrs. Matthews, Gregory, Burns, Brown, Richardson and others, constituting the New Orleans Floating Dry-Dock Company, with a capital of $200,000. The dock was very small, and intended for steamboats only.

Toward the latter part of 1839, Messrs. Bailey & Marcy constructed at Pearlington, on Pearl river, Miss., the second dock brought to Algiers, and the first that could accomodate steamships as well as steamboats. The dock was towed to the mouth of the Mississippi, and up the river to Algiers. It was called the Suffolk dock, because the first ship taken in bore that name. It was considerably larger than the Paducah dock. The two docks were moored at the bend of the river, near Seguhrs ship-yard. In 1850 Mr. Bailey sold out his interest to Capt. Salter, an old resident, the firm becoming Marcy & Salter. Capt. Salter had previously established a shipyard near Seguin's and retired from business. Messrs. Hyde & Mackie, having bought out the interest of Capt. Marcy in 1852, the Suffolk dock was towed up to Gretna, where the business was carried on for awhile. Capt. Marcy had, in 1842, built and launched, on the batture at the point, the first dock ever constructed in Algiers. The Marcy dock was larger than either the Paducah or Suffolk dock, the yard having 600 feet front on Patterson street.

The tract of land called Belleville, where the Belleville Iron-Works were afterward located, was originally bought, in the early part of 1846, by the Louisiana Dry-Dock Company, to locate the first Louisiana dry-dock.

The Louisiana dock No. 1 was the largest constructed before the war, and was accidentally sunk in 1849. The wreck still lies close in to shore just below the present Vallette dry-dock yard. It was what was called a balance dock, after a New York patent. In 1848 and 1852 ths company built the Louisiana docks Nos. 2 and 3, on the same patent. These were smaller than

the parent dock, and were sunk during the war on the approach of the Federal fleet in 1861, Louisiana No. 3 carrying down with her the frame of a 1,000-ton ship in course of construction. The Crescent dry-dock, another large dock, built in 1855 for the Crescent Dry-Dock Company, was among those sunk during the war. It was at this dock, in the spring of 1861, that the merchant steamer "Havana," running between this port and the island of Cuba, was altered into the famous Confederate cruiser " Sumter," for the Southern naval hero, Admiral Raphael Semmes, who commanded her so bravely and brilliantly. About the same time Messrs. John Hughes. & Cc altered the staamer Miramon into the Confederate gunboat "McRae." In the previous summer they had built the famous Confederate ram " Manassas," which successfully ran the blockade of the Federal vessels, several of them fleeing before the strange-looking cigai-shaped vessel, with all sail and a full head of steam far out into the Gulf.

The Gulf Line dock, a small one of 200 feet in length over all, was built in 1857, and managed by them for the Gulf Line Dock Company. The management afterward passed into the hands of Messrs. Follette, Vallette & Gerard. At Gretna, in the following year, Mr. John F. Follette, senior member of the firm, superintended the building of the largest dock ever constructed in Louisiana. It was built for a dock company in Havana, and was 300 feet long over all, 90 feet wide in the clear, 18 feet draught, 14 feet depth between working floor and the bottom, and cost $450,000. The dock was taken to Havana, where it has been in continuous use ever since, and said to be in almost as sound condition as when built.

At the beginning of the war the Confederate government purchased the Gulf Line dock and another small dock called the Atlantic, to be converted into floating batteries. The Gulf Line was fitted up for the purpose by Mr. Octave Vallette, one of her former owners, and the Atlantic by her former owner, James Martin. Another dock in existence before the war was the Pelican, a large sectional dock ; it was sunk at the commencement of the war.

The approach of the Federal fleet in the latter part of April, 1862, caused intense excitement among all classes of people throughout the city and suburbs. About the very first thing suggested by over-zealous patriots was the destruction of the dry docks of Algiers, so that the Federal fleet should be deprived of the advantages offered by them. The sequel, however, showed that this line of policy was suicidal in the extreme, superinducing widespread misery among the large numbers of poor people directly interested in the maintenance of the industry. At the time there were in operation four large docks, the Louisiana No. 3, the Crescent, the Pelican and the New Orleans. At about 9 o'clock on the night of April 23, 1862, the approach of the Federal fleet having been announced during the day, a committee of citizens composed of Messrs. James Martin, James T. Anderson and T. G. Mackie, owners and managers of dry docks; John Mahoney, the well-known yacht-builder—all residents of Algiers, and the secretary of the Confederate naval commander at this port, acting under orders of Gen. Lovell, commanding the department, notified the managers of the docks that they had been ordered to sink the docks at once. In spite of the vigorous protest of the managers of the Louisiana docks, and other parties, the committee, beginning with Louisiana dock No. 3, lying furthest down the river, sank them in succession as they proceeded up the stream. On the day after the arrival of the Federal fleet the managers of the Louisiana and Crescent docks made an effort to raise them, and the Crescent dock had very nearly been raised, when the managers were quietly informed that if they valued their lives they had better desist—and they did. Several attempts have since been made to remove the wrecks, which still lie beneath the water along the shore all the way from below the Third district ferry landing to the vicinity of the Planter's Oil Works. An attempt was made to blow them up, but the concussions on shore were so great that it had to be given up.

Toward the end of the war a dock, brought to Algiers from up river, was located in the vicinity of the Belleville Ironworks, now the Planters' Oil Works. It was called the Southern dock, and about 1867 was accidentally sunk. Immediately after the war Mr. William Kelke constructed the Star dock out of the hull of an old steamboat, called the "Illinois," plying

between St. Louis and New Orleans. The Star was a small dock, intended only for small vessels, and was used for a long while as a pontoon at the head of Canal street.

Soon after the building of the Star dock, Mr. Thomas G. Mackie constructed what is known as the Ocean dry-dock, from a hull bought in the West. It was then located at ths head of Barthelemi street, near the Second district ferry-landing and above the present site of the Marine dry-dock, but has since been removed to a point immediately above the Third district ferry landing, between Olivier and Yerret streets.

The next oldest dock is the Good Intent dry-dock, located one square above the Canal street ferry landing. It was built near Madisonville, on the Tchefunecta river, in 1865, by Julius Lang, one of the original incorporators of the Good Intent Dry-Dock Company, and completed in May, 1866. The dock is now owned and operated jointly by the Red River and Coast lines.

Next in chronological succession comes the largest dock on the right bank, the Vallette dry dock. In 1866 the Valette dry-dock company was organized, with a capital stock of $200,000.

The Marine dry-dock, situated at the head of Lavergne street was built in 1871, at a cost of about $75,000, for the Marine Dry-Dock Company.

The last dock constructed in Algiers was the Louisiana dry-dock, built in 1872. This dock was one of the finest and most important in its day, all the work of the LTnited States Lighthouse and Engineers departments having been done there. The dock was a sectional one, arranged in such a way that two sections could be submerged, while the other two were kept afloat. In April. 1881, the dock was accidentally sunk, and the yards are now occupied by the Ocean dry-dock.




When I first viewed New Orleans from the deck of the great steamboat that had carried me from gray northwestern mists into the tepid and orange-scented air of the South, my impressions of the city, drowsing under the violet and gold of a November morning, were oddly connected with memories of " Jean-ah Poquelin." That strange little tale had appeared previously in the Century; and its exotic picturesqueuess had considerably influenced my anticipations of the Southern metropolis, and prepared me to idealize everything peculiar and semi-tropical that I might see. Even before I had left the steamboat my imagination had already flown beyond the wilderness of cotton-bales, the sierra-shaped roofs of the sugar-sheds, the massive fronts of refineries and store-houses, to wander in search of the old slave-trader's mansion, or at least of something resembling it-"built of heavy cypress, lifted up on pillars, grim, solid, and spiritless." I did not even abandon my search for the house after I had learned that Tchoupitoulas "Road" was now a great business street, fringed not by villas but by warehouses ; that the river had receded from it considerably since the period of the story ; and that where marsh lands used to swelter under the sun, pavements of block-stone had been laid, enduring as Roman causeways, though they will tremble a little under the passing of cotton-floats. At one time, I tried to connect the narrative with a peculiar residence near the Bayou road—a silent wooden mansion with vast verandas, surrounded by shrubbery which had become fantastic by long neglect. Indeed, there are several old houses in the more ancient quarters of the city which might have served as models for the description of " Jean-ah Poquelin's " dwelling, but none of them is situated in his original neighborhood—old plantation homes whose broad lands have long since been cut up and devoured by the growing streets. In reconstructing the New Orleans of 1810, Mr. Cable might have selected any of these to draw from, and I may have found his model without knowing it. Not, however, until the Century appeared, with its curious article upon the "Great South Gate," did I learn that in the early years of the nineteenth century such a house existed precisely in the location described by Mr. Cable. Readers of " The Great South Gate" must have been impressed by the description therein given of "Doctor" Gravier's home, upon the bank of the long-vanished Poydras canal—a picture of desolation more than justified by the testimony of early municipal chronicles; and the true history of that eccentric " Doctor " Gravier no doubt inspired the creator of " Jean-ah Poquelin." An ancient city map informs us that the deserted indigo fields, with their wriggling amphibious population, extended a few blocks north of the present Charity hospital; and that the plantation house itself must have stood near the juncture of Poydras and Freret streets—a region now very closely built and very thickly peopled.

The sharp originality of Mr. Cable's description should have convinced the readers of " Old Creole Days " that the scenes]of his stories are in no sense fanciful; and the strict perfection of his Creole architecture is readily recognized by all who have resided in New Orleans. Each one of those charming pictures of places—veritable pastels—was painted after some carefully-selected model of French or Franco-Spanish origin, typifying fashions of building which prevailed in colonial days. Greatly as the city has changed since the eras in which Mr. Cable's stories are laid, the old Creole quarter still contains antiquities enough to enable the artist to restore almost all that has vanished. Through those narrow, multicolored and dilapidated streets one may still wander at random with the certainty of encountering eccentric facades and suggestive Latin appellations at every turn; and the author of " Madame Delphine " must

have made many a pilgrimage into the quaint district, to study the wrinkled faces of the houses, or perhaps to read the queer names upon the signs—as Balzac loved to do in old-fashioned Paris. Exceptionally rich in curiosities is the Rue Royale, and it best represents, no doubt, the genera^ physiognomy of the colonial city. It appears to be Mr. Cable's favorite street, as there are lew of his stories which do not contain references to it; even the scenery of incidents laid elsewhere has occasionally been borrowed from that " region of architectural decrepitude," which is yet peopled by an "ancient and foreign-seeming domestic life." For Louisiana dreamers, Mr. Cable has peopled it also with many delightful phantoms; and the ghosts of Madame Delicieuse, of Delphine Carraze, of 'Sieur George, will surely continue to haunt it until of all the dear old buildings there shall not be left a stone upon a stone.

From the corner of Canal street at Royal—ever perfumed by the baskets of the flower-sellers—to the junction of Eoyal with Bienville, one observes with regret numerous evidences of modernization. American life is invading the thoroughfare—uprearing concert-halls, with insufferably pompous names, multiplying flashy saloons and cheap restaurants, cigar-stores and oyster-rooms. Gambling indeed survives, but only through metamorphosis —it is certainly not of that aristocratic kind wherein Colonel De Charleu, owner of "Belles Demoiselles Plantation," could have been wont to indulge. Already a line of electric lights mocks the rusty superannuation of those long- disused wrought-iron lamp frames set into the walls of various Creole buildings. But from the corner of Conti street—where Jules St. Ange idled one summer morning "some seventy years ago"— Rue RoycUe begins to display a picturesqueness almost unadulterated by innovation, and opens a perspective of roof lines astonishingly irregular, that jag and cut into the blue strip of intervening sky at every conceivable angle, with gables, eaves, dormers, triangular peaks of slate, projecting corners of balconies or verandas-overtopping or jutting out from houses of every imaginable tint: canary, chocolate, slate-blue, speckled gray, ultramarine, cinnamon red, and even pale rose. All have sap-green batten shutters ; most possess balconies balustraded with elegant arabesque work in wrought iron-graceful tendrils and curling leaves of metal, framing some monogram of which the meaning is forgotten. Much lattice-work also will be observed about verandas, or veiling the ends of galleries, or suspended like green cage-work at the angle formed by a window-balcony with some lofty court-wall. And far down the street, the erratic superimposition of wire-hung signs, advertising the presence of many quiet, shadowy little shops that hide their faces from the sun behind slanting canvas awnings, makes a spidery confusion of lines and angles in the very centre of the vista.

I think that only by a series of instantaneous photographs, tinted after the manner of Goupil, could the physiognomy of the street be accurately reproduced, such is the confusion of projecting show-windows, the kaleidoscopic medley of color, the jumble of infinitesimal stores. The characteristics of almost any American street may usually be taken in at one glance; but you might traverse this Creole thoroughfare a hundred times without being able to ordinate the puzzling details of its perspective.

But when the curious pilgrim reaches the corner of Royal and St. Peter streets (Rue Saint Pie7Te), he finds himself confronted by an edifice whose oddity and massiveness compel special examination—a four-story brick tenement house, with walls deep as those of a mediaeval abbey, and with large square windows having singular balconies, the ironwork of which is wrought into scrollstand initials. Unlike any other building in the quarter, its form is that of an irregular pentagon, the smallest side of which looks down Royal and up St. Peter streets at once, and commands through its windows, in a single view, three street angles. This is the house where 'Sieur George so long dwelt. It is said to have been the first four-story building erected in New Orleans; and it certainly affords a singular example of the fact that some very old buildings obstinately rebel against innovations of fashion, just as many old men do. Despite a desperate effort recently made to compel its acceptance of a new suit of paint and whitewash, the venerable structure persisted in remaining almost precisely as Mr. Cable first described it. The

cornices are still dropping plaster ; the stucco has not ceased to peel off: the rotten staircases, " hugging the sides of the court," still seem " trying to climb up out of the rubbish "; the court itself is always "hung with many lines of wet clothes "'; and th^ rooms are now, as ever, occupied by folk "who dwell there simply for lack of activity to find better and cheaper quarters elsewhere." Cheaper it would surely be easy to find, inasmuch as 'Sieur George's single-windowed room reuts unfurnished at ten dollars per month. There is something unique in the spectacle of this ponderous, dilapidated edifice, with its host of petty shops on the rez-de-chaussee —something which recalls an engraving I once saw in some archaeological folio, picturing a swarm of Italian fruit-booths seeking shelter under the crumbling arches of a Roman theatre.

Upon the east side of Rue Royale, half a square farther up, the eye is refreshed by a delicious burst of bright green—a garden inclosed on three sides by spiked railings, above which bananas fling out the watered-satin of their splendid leaves, and bounded at its eastern extremity by the broad, blanched, sloping-shouldered silhouette of the Cathedral. Here linger memories of Padre Antonio de Sedella (Pere Antoine), first sent to Louisiana as a commissary of the Holy Inquisition, immediately shipped home again by sensible Governor Miro. But Padre Antonio returned to Louisiana, not as an inquisitor, but as a secular priest, to win the affection of the whole Creole population, by whom he was venerated as a saint even before his death. Somewhere near this little garden, the padre used to live in a curious wooden hut; and the narrow, flagged alley on the southern side of the Cathedral and its garden still bears the appellation, Passage Saint Antoine, in honor of the o'.d priest's patron. The name is legibly inscribed above the show-windows of the Roman Catholic shop on the corner, where porcelain angels appear to be perpetually ascending and descending a Jacob's-ladderformed of long communion candles. The " Peres Jeromes " of our own day reside in the dismal brick houses bordering the alley farther toward Chartres street—buildings which protrude, above the heads of passers-by, a line of jealous-looking balconies, screened with lattice-work, in which wicket lookouts have been contrived. On the northern side of garden and Cathedral runs another flagged alley, which affects to be a continuation of Orleans street. Like its companion passage, it opens into Chartres street; but on the way it forks into a grotesque fissure in the St. Peter street block—into a marvelous mediaeval-looking by-way, craggy with balconies and peaked with dormers. As this picturesque opening is still called Exchange alley, we must suppose it to have once formed part of the much more familiar passage of that name, though now widely separated therefrom by architectural reforms effected in Rue Saint Louis and other streets intervening. The northern side-entrance of the cathedral commands it—a tall, dark, ecclesiastically severe archway, in whose shadowed recess Madame Delphine might safely have intrusted her anxieties to " God's own banker ;" and Catholic quadroon women on their daily morning way to market habitually enter it with their baskets, to murmer a prayer in patois before the shrine of Notre Dame de Lourdes. Jackson square, with its rococo flower-beds and clipped shrubbery, might be reached in a moment by either of the flagged alleys above described ; but it retains none of its colonial features, and has rightly been deprived of the military titles it once bore: Place d" 1 Amies, or Plata de Armas.

There stands, at the corner of St. Anne and Royal streets, a one-story structure with Spanish tile roof, a building that has become absolutely shapeless with age, and may be torn away at any moment. It is now a mere hollow carcass—a shattered brick skeleton to which plaster and laths cling in patches only, like shrunken hide upon the bones of some creature left to die and to mummify under the sun. An obsolete directory, printed in 1845, assures us that the construction was considered immemorially old even then ; but a remarkable engraving of it, which accompanies the above remark, shows it to have at that time possessed distinct Spanish features and two neat entrances with semicircular stone steps. In 1835 it was Cafe des Refugies, frequented by fugitives from the Antilles, West Indian strangers, filibusters, revolutionnaIres— all that singular class of Latin-Americans so strongly portrayed in Mr. Cable's " Cafe des Exiles."

At the next block, if you turn down Dumaine street from Royal, you will notice, about half-

way toward Chartres, a very peculiar house, half brick, half timber. It creates the impression that its builder commenced it with the intention of erecting a three-story brick, but changed his mind before the first story had been completed, and finished the edifice with second-hand lumber—supporting the gallery with wooden posts that resemble monstrous balusters. This is the house bequeathed by "Mr. John," of the Good Children's Social Club, to the beautiful quadroon Zalli and her more beautiful reputed daughter, 'Tite Poulette. As Mr. Cable tells us, and as one glance can verify, it has now become " a den of Italians, v.*ho sell fuel by day, and by night are up to no telling what extent of deviltry.'' On the same side of Dumaine, but on the western side of Royal street, is another remarkable building, more imposing, larger—"whose big, round-arched windows in the second story were walled up, to have smaller windows let into them again with odd little latticed peep-holes in their batten shutters." It. was to this house that Zalli and "Tite Poulette removed their worldly goods, after the failure of the bank ; and it was from the most westerly of those curious windows in the second story that Kristian Koppig saw the row of cigar-boxes empty their load of earth and flowers upon the head of the manager of the Salle Conde. Right opposite you may see the good Dutchman's one-story Creole cottage. The resemblance of 'TitePoulette's second dwelling-place to the old Spanish barracks in architectural peculiarity has been prettily commented upon by Mr. Cable; and, in fact, those barracks, which could shelter six thousand troops in O'Reilly's time, and must, therefore, have covered a considerable area, were situated not very far from this spot. But the only fragments of the barrack buildings that are still positively recognizable are the arched structures at Nos. 270 and 272 Royal street, occppied now, alas ! by a prosaic seltzer factory. The spacious cavalry stables now shelter vulgar mules, and factory wagons protrude their shafts from the mouths of low, broad archways under which once glimmered the brazen artillery of the King of Spain.

A square west of Royal, at the corner of Bourbon and St. Philip streets, formerlv stood the famed smithy of the brothers Lafitte ; but it were now useless to seek for a vestige of that workshop, whose chimes of iron were rung by African muscle. Passing St. Philip street, therefore, the visitor who follows the east side of Royal might notice upon the opposite side an elegant and lofty red brick mansion, with a deep archway piercing its rez-de-chaussee to the courtyard, which offers a glimpse of rich foliage whenever the porte cochere is left ajar. This is No. 253 Royal street, the residence of "Madame Delicieuse "; and worthy of that honor, it seems, with its superb tiara of green verandas. A minute two-story cottage squats down beside it—a min iature shop having tiny show-windows that project like eyes. The cottage is a modern affair ; but it covers the site of Dr. Mossy's office, which, you know, was a lemon-yellow Creole construction, roofed with red tiles. What used to be ths " Cafe de Poesie" on the corner, is now a hat store. Further on, at the intersection of Royal and Hospital streets {.Rue d'Hopital, famous in Creole ballads), one cannot fail to admire a dwelling solid and elegant as a Venetian palazzo. It has already been celebrated in one foreign novel ; and did I not feel confident that Mr. Cable will tell us all about it one of these days, I should be tempted to delay the reader on this corner, although Madame Delphine's residence is already within sight.

No one can readily forget Mr. Cable's description of " the small, low, brick house of a story and a half, set out upon the sidewalk, as weather-beaten and mute as an aged beggar fallen asleep." It stands near Barracks street, on Royal; the number, I think, is 294. Still are its solid wooden shutters "shut with a grip that makes one's nails and knuckles feel lacerated" ; and its coat of decaying plaster, patched with all varieties of neutral tints, still suggests the raggedness of mendicancy. Even the condition of the garden gate, through which Monsieur Vignevielle first caught a glimpse of Olive's maiden beauty, might be perceived to-day as readily as ever by " an eye that had been in the blacksmithing business." But since the accompanying sketch was drawn, the picturesqueness of the upper part of the cottage has been greatly diminished by architectural additions made with a view to render the building habitable. Over the way may still be seen that once pretentious three-story residence "from whose front door hard times have removed all vestiges of paint," a door shaped like old European hall doors, and furnished with an iron

knocker. It has not been repainted since Mr. Cable wrote his story, nor does it seem likely to be.

Only a few paces farther on yawns the dreamy magnificence of aristocratic Esplanade street, with its broad, central band of grass all shadow-flecked by double lines of trees. There Royal street terminates, Esplanade forming the southern boundary line of the old French quarter.

If the reader could now follow me westwardly along one of the narrow ways leading to the great Rue des Remparts, he would soon find himself in that quadroon quarter, whose denizens still " drag their chairs down to the narrow gateways of their close-fenced gardens, and stare shriukingly at you as you pass, like a nest of yellow kittens." He would be at once charmed and astonished by the irregularity of the perspective and the eccentricity of the houses: houses whose foreheads are fantastically encircled by wooden parapets, striped like the foulards of the negresses; houses yellow-faced and sphinx-featured, like certain mulatto women ; houses which present their profiles to the fence, so that as you approach they seem to turn away their faces with studied prudery like young Creole girls ; houses that appear felinely watchful, in spite of closed windows and doors, gazing sleepily at the passer-by through the chinks of their green shutters, as through vertical pupils. Five minutes' walk over banquettes of disjointed brick-work, through which knots of tough grass are fighting their upward way, brings one to Rampart street, where Mr. Cable found the model for his " Cafe des Exiles." It was situated on the west side, No. 219, and the artist has sketched it under a summersglow that brought out every odd detail in strong relief. But hereafter, alas ! the visitor to New Orleans must vainly look for the window of Pauline, "well up in the angle of the broad side-gable, shaded by its rude awning of clapboards, as the eyes of an old dame are shaded by her wrinkled hand." Scarcely a week ago, from the time at which I write, the antiquated .'cottage that used to * 4 squat right down upon the sidewalk, as do those Choctaw squaws who sell bay and sassafras and life-everlasting," was ruthlessly torn away, together with its oleanders, and palmettoes, and pomegranates, to make room, no doubt, for some modern architectural platitude.

A minute's walk from the vacant site of the Cafe des Exiles will bring you to Congo square, the last green remnant of those famous Congo plains, where the negro slaves once held their bamboulas. Until within a few years ago, the strange African dances were still danced, and the African songs still suug by negroes and negresses who had been slaves. Every Sunday afternoon the bamboula dancers were summoned to a wood-yard on Dumaine street by a sort of drum-roll, made by rattling the ends of two great bones upon the the head of an empty cask; and I remember that the male dancers fastened bits of tinkling metal or tin rattles about their ankles, like those strings of copper gris-gris worn by the negroes of the Soudan. Those whom I saw taking part in those curious and convulsive performances—subsequently suppressed by the police—were either old or beyond middle age. The veritable Congo dance, with its extraordinary rhythmic chant, will soon have become as completely forgotten in Louisiana as the signification of those African words which formed the hieratic vocabulary of the Voudoos.

It was where Congo square now extends that Bras-Coupe was lassoed while taking part in such a dance ; it was in the same neighborhood that Captain Jean Grandissime, of the Attaka-pas, lay hiding—secure in his white man's skin " as if cased in steel"—to foil the witchcraft of Clemence; and it was there, also, that a crowd of rowdy American flatboatmen, headed by "Posson Jone'," of Bethesdy Church, stormed the circus and slew the tiger and the buffalo. Now, " Cayetano's circus " was not a fiction of Mr. Cable's imagining, f-'uch a show actually visited New Orleans in 1816 or thereabouts, and remained a popular "fixture" for several seasons. The Creole-speaking negroes of that day celebrated its arrival in one of their singular ditties.* And whosoever cares to consult certain musty newspaper files which are treasured up

* Some years ago, when I was endeavoring to make a collection of patois songs and other curiosities of the oral literature of the Louisiana colored folk, Mr, Cable kindly lent me his own collection, with permission to make selections for my private use, and I copied therefrom this Qhansov, Creole;

among the city archives may find therein the quaint advertisement of Senor Gaetano'a circus and the story of its violent disruption.

But Congo square has been wholly transformed within a twelvemonth. The high railings and gateways have been removed ; the weeds that used to climb over the moldering benches have been plucked up ; new-graveled walks have been made; the grass, mown smooth, is now refreshing to look at; the trunks of the shade-trees are freshly whitewashed: and, before long, a great fountain will murmur in the midst. Two blocks westward, the sombre, sinister, Spanish facade of the Parish Prison towers above a huddling flock of dingy frame dwellings, and exhales far around it theTieavy, sickly, musky scent that betrays the presence of innumerable bats. At sundown, they circle in immense flocks above it. and squeak like ghosts about its naked sentry towers. I have been told that this grim building will soon be numbered among those antiquities of New Orleans forming the scenery of Mr. Cable's romances.

The scene of, perhaps, the most singular tale in "Old Creole Days"—"Belles Demoiselles Plantation"—remains to be visited; but if the reader recollects the observation made in the very first paragraph of the story, that "the old Creoles never forgive a public mention," he will doubtless pardon me for leaving the precise location of "Belles Demoiselles" a mystery, authentic though it is, and for keeping secrst its real and ancient name. I can only tell him that to reach it, he must journey far from the Creole faubourg and beyond the limits of New Orleans to a certain unfamiliar point on the river's bank, whence a ferryman, swarthy and silent as Charon, will row him to the farther side of the Mississippi, and aid him to land upon

C'est Michie Cayetane

Qui sorti la Havane

Avec so chouals et so macacs ! Li gagnin ein homme qui danse dans sac ; Li gagnin qui danse si ye la main : Li gagnin zaut' a choual qui boi' di vin : Li gasrnin oussi ein zeine zolie mamzelle Qui monte' choual sans bride et sans selle ;— Pou di tou' ca mo pas capabe,— Mais mo souvien ein qui vale sab'. Ye n'en oussi tout sort betail: Ye pas montre pou' la negrail Qui ya pou' dochans—dos-brules Qui fe tapaze—et pou' birle Ces gros mesdames et gros michies Qui menein la tous p'tis ye

'Oir Michie Cayetane

Qui vive la Havane

Avec so chouals et so macacs.

"'Tis Monsieur Gaetano

Who comes out from Havana

With his horses and his monkeys ! He has a man who dances in a sack ; He has one who dances on his hands : He has another who drinks wine on horseback ; He has also a pretty young lady Who rides a horse without bridle or saddle : To tell you all about it I am not able,— But I remember one who swallowed a sword. There are all sorts of animals, too;— They did not show to nigger-folk

What they showed to the trash—the burnt-backs (poo>- whites'' Who make so much noise—nor what they had to amuse All those fine ladies and gentlemen. Who take all their little children along with them

To see Monsieur Gaetano

Who lives in Havana

With his horses and his monkeys

• a crumbling levee erected to prevent the very catastrophe anticipated in Mr. Cable's tale. Parallel with this levee curves a wagon-road whose farther side is bounded by a narrow and weed-masked ditch, where all kinds of marvelous wild things are growing, and where one may feel assured that serpents hide. Beyond this little ditch is a wooden fence, now overgrown and rendered superfluous by a grand natural barrier of trees and shrubs, all chained together by interlacements of wild vines and thorny creepers. This forms the boundary of the private grounds surrounding the "Belles Demoiselles" residence; and the breeze comes to you heavily sweet with blossom-scents, and shrill with vibrant music of cicadas and of birds. Fancy the wreck of a vast garden created by princely expenditure—a garden once filled with all varieties of exotic trees, with all species of fantastic shrubs, with the rarest floral products of both hemispheres, but left utterly uncared for during: a generation, so that the groves have been made weird with hanging moss, and the costly vines have degenerated into parasites, and richly cultured plants returned to their primitive wild forms. The alley-walks are soft and sable with dead leaves ; and all is so profoundly beshadowed by huge trees that a strange twilight prevails there even under a noonday sun. The lofty hedge is becrimsoned with savage roses, in whose degenerate petals still linger traces of former high cultivation. By a little gate set into that hedge, you can enter the opulent wilderness within, and pursue a winding path between mighty trunks that lean at a multitude of angles, like columns of a decaying cathedral about to fall. Crackling of twigs under foot, leaf whispers, calls of birds and cries of tree-frogs are the only sounds ; the soft gloom deepens as you advance under the swaying moss and snaky festoons of creepers ; there is a dimness and calm, as of a place consecrated to prayer. But for their tropical and elfish drapery, one might dream those oaks were of Dodona. And even with the passing of the fancy, lo! at a sudden turn of the narrow way, in a grand glow of light, even the Temple appears, with splendid peripteral of fluted columns rising boldly from the soil. Four pillared facades—east, west, north, and south—four superb porches, with tiers of galleries suspended in their recesses; and two sides of the antique vision ivory-tinted by the sun. Impossible to verbally describe the effect of this matchless relic of Louisiana's feudal splendors, that seems trying to hide itself from the new era amid its neglected gardens and groves. It creates such astonishment as some learned traveler might feei, were he suddenly to come upon the unknown ruins of a Greek temple in the very heart of an equatorial forest; it is so grand, so strangely at variance with its surroundings ! True, the four ranks of columns are not of chiseled marble, and the stucco has broken away from them in places, and the severe laws of architecture have not been strictly obeyed ; but these things are forgotten in admiration of the building's majesty. I suspect it to be the noblest old plantation-house in Louisiana; I am sure there is none more quaintly beautiful. When I last beheld the grand old mansion, the evening sun was resting upon it in a Turneresque column of yellow glory, and the oaks reaching out to it their vast arms through ragged sleeves of moss, and beyond, upon either side, the crepuscular dimness of the woods, with rare golden luminosities spattering down through the serpent knot-work of lianas, and the heavy mourning of mosses, and the great drooping and clinging of multitudinous disheveled things. And all this subsists only because the old Creole estate has never changed hands, because no speculating utilitarian could buy up the plantation to remove or remodel its proud homestead and condemn its odorous groves to the saw-mill. The river is the sole enemy to be dreaded, but a terrible one : it is ever gnawing the levee to get at the fat cane-fields : it is devouring the roadway ; it is burrowing nearer and nearer to the groves and the gardens ; and while gazing at its ravages, I could not encourage myself to doubt that, although his romantic anticipation may not be realized for years to come, Ifr, Cable has rightly predicted the ghastly destiqy of " Belles Demoiselles Plantation."

^-WcAPiQ Hearn. in the " Century,"




One of the most extraordinary women of New Orleans was Madame la Baronne Pontalba, whose name is identified with so many important events in the city's history.

Her maiden name was Michaela de Almonaster y Roxas, and after her marriage to young. Xavier Delfair, Baron de Pontalba, she was always known and styled, in this, her native State, as Madame de Pontalba. In France she received and enjoyed the title of Baroness.

In the old Cathedral her father lies buried with this tablet above him :

Here lie the remains of DON ANDRES ALMONASTER y ROXAS, a native of Mayrena, in the Kingdom of Andalusia. He died in the city of New Orleans on the 26th day of April, 1798, Being 73 years of age. A Knight of the Royal and Distinguished Order of Charles III, Colonel of the Militia of this Department, Alderman and Royal Lieutenant of this Corporation, Founder and Donor of this Holy Cathedral, Founder of the Royal Hospital of St. Charles and of its Church, Founder of the Hospital for Lepers, Founder of the Ursuline Convent, Founder of the School for the Education of Girls, Founder of the Court House-All of which he had built at his own expense in this city. Fequiescat in Pace.

Old Almonaster was an Andalusian, who came to Louisiana when it was a Spanish colony, and managed by thrift, industry and enterprise to accumulate a large estate. Called to the highest positions, chiefly then relating to the administration of the revenues of the colony, he discharged all the trusts confided to him with great integrity, but at the same time, to the great augmentation of his estate, so that at his death, in 1798, he was by far the richest man in the colony. A few years before his death he had married a Creole lady, by whom he had a single daughter, who became the heiress of his large possessions.

Michaela Almonaster was raised with great care, but before she had completed her education, leaving the convent of the Ursulines to fulfill a sort of family arrangement, she married the son-of an old ex-officer of the Spanish army, who was also very wealthy, of the name of Pontalba.

This marriage was a great eve«t in the colony. No man was ever held in as great reverence and affection in this colony as the good old Don Andres, whose piety, benevolence and raunifi-

oence are so eloquently set forth in the foregoing epitaph, and for the repose of whose soul prayers have never ceased to he offered up on every Saturday in the old Cathedral of St. Louis.

The young people departed from the colony immediately after the marriage ceremony, and reaching Paris, established themselves in that city. They were both young, handsome and exceedingly rich. It could not be expected that a couple thus marrying in haste, especially in the then condition of Parisian society, would escape all the breakers which so often interrupt the peaceful voyage of matrimony. After some years of comparatively harmonious domestic life, dissensions arose between them, and the husband and wife separated, each resuming the possession and enjoyment of his and her estate. The father of the young Pontalba had followed his son and daughter-in-law to France, and had established himself in a chateau near the city. Here he led the life of a morose, ascetic, proud, old aristocrat, having but little sympathy or interest in the affairs of the outside world. It appears that the separation of his son from his wife had produced great chagrin and indignation in the heart of the old man. He visited his wrath upon the daughter-in-law, and regarded her conduct as the source of all his infelicity and of the humiliation of his son and of his family pride. Hence the startling tragedy which followed.

There were three or four children of the marriage of Miss Almonaster to young Pontalba. After the separation these children remained in charge of the mother, with the obligation on her part to consult their grandfather in the direction of their education.

Visiting the elder Pontalba at his chateau, on a certain occasion, for the purpose of obtaining his views in regard to the management of the children, Madame was invited into the cabinet of the old Baron. After her entrance the door was locked. No one was present. All that could ever be learned by the servants in the chateau, of what then occurred, was that loud and angry voices were heard proceeding from the cabinet. These were interrupted by the loud report of a pistol, followed by a wild shriek of a female voice, then by another report of a pistol, and then there was profound and ominous silence.

The servants rushed to the cabinet and found it locked. No answer was given to their cry to open the door. A bar and axe were obtained and the door was forced open. The room revealed a ghastly spectacle. Within a few feet of each other lay the bleeding bodies of Mme. Pontalba and of the grandfather of her children. He was beyond all doubt, dead. The pistol, which he still clutched in his hand, had discharged a large bullet through his head, scattering his brains over the fine Brussels carpet. The lady still breathed ; she had swooned, but her wound was a dreadful one. The ball had entered her breast, passing through her hand, which had been raised for the defence of her heart, and severing one of her fingers. She lay in a pool of blood. Surgical attendance was quickly called in, the lady was removed, and everything done for her which art and wealth could command. After a long and lingering illness, she recovered from the wound, and resumed her duties as a mother and lady. But nothing ever transpired as to the cause and circumstances of the tragedy. These have been reserved as family secrets. The public interpretation of the affair ascribed the murderous action df Pontalba to a monomania, arising from imaginary wrongs and indignity to his family pride and name. Madame Pontalba was not a woman to yield her just rights or summit to the dictation and control of others. She was of an imperious temper, self-reliant and dominating. Her refusal to make concessions to the morose old father-in-law fired him to the madness which produced this tragedy.

Purchasing a square in the most aristocratic faubourg of Paris, Madame Pontalba invested her large income from New Orleans in the construction of one of the most costly of the splendid hotels which engage so much of the admiration and interest of strangers who visit that metropolis of the arts and fashions. Her ambition was to surpass in grandeur and luxury the hotels of the pretentious aristocracy of the ancien regime, and even of royalty. Here, in this elegant establishment, she collected all the most costly productions of art and vertu, and here she dispensed a most generous hospitality. The education of her children was not neg-

lected. They grew up intelligent and accomplished young persons. The daughter married a native of New Orleans, and a member of one of the best families of this State, The sons are now middle-aged and solid men. But Madame Pontalba always maintained her control over her property, and managed her affairs in her own way. Her agents and attorneys were held to a strict accountability, and were frequently changed. She was a terror to the lawyers, whose bills she always disputed. She had no fears of lawsuits, and always exacted what she considered her legal rights, and resisted most sturdily any demand she regarded unreasonable. She had two sets of politics—one for France, and one for this country. Here she was a bitter Democrat; in France, a strong Legitimist. "Don't talk Democracy to my son," we once heard her say, "for he is a Frenchman, and Frenchmen are no more prepared for Democracy than so many monkeys. Talk Democracy to me, for I am a Jackson Democrat."

In the revolution of 1848 Madame Pontalba deemed it prudent to leave Paris. She was alarmed by trie Socialistic demonstrations of that epoch, and thought it a good opportunity to visit her native city and look after her large property there. She accordingly came there with her whole family, rented a villa at Pascagoula and kept rooms in the city. It was then she started the scheme of improving the old Place d'Armes by cutting down the ancient elms which had stood there ever since her father donated the square to the city. There was great opposition to this proposal. Quite an earnest protest was made by the newspapers against any such barbarous and unsentimental act. This was about the time Russell's song of " Woodman, spare that Tree " was the rage. The sentiment it inspired revolted at the vandalism of cutting down the most venerable land-marks of the city, in the shade of which had passed all the great political events in the history of Louisiana—which had witnessed all the changes of her nationality. But it was a great folly to oppose Mme. Pontalba in any of her projects. She carried her object. The Council granted her petition. She would improve the square on her own plan and at her own expense. She would tear down the rows of old Spanish buildings fronting the square and erect expensive modern three and four-story buildings in their stead if the Council would exempt her property from taxation for a certain period. Her proposal was accepted and she faithfully executed her obligations. The square was improved on her plan. The rows of brick buildings were erected at a cost of several hundred thousand dollars. Shortly after this change in the old square, she contrived to have an act of the Legislature passed substituting the name of Jackson for the unmeaning one of Place d'Armes; subscribed liberally to the fund to obtain the bronze equestrian statue of Jackson by Clark Mills, and from the balcony of the central edifice of her splendid row of new buildings witnessed the grand ceremony of the unveiling and dedi cation of that statue.

Shortly afterwards, when Jenny Lind visited the city and there prevailed so extraordinary a furor on her account, Mme. Pontalba had the central building of the row on St. Peter street gorgeously furnished, and tendered it for Miss Lind's use and residence whilst fulfilling her brilliant engagement at the St. Charles. The Swedish Nightingale was a very exacting woman in regard to her domestic comforts and habits of exclusiveness, and greatly relished and enjoyed the comfort and luxury which were thus afforded her by the liberality of Mine. Pontalba. To increase this enjoyment and to satisfy one of the most importunate of the exactions of the great songstress, the services of the renowned Boudro were obtained to supervise her cuisine. When the gustative Jenny was about to leave the city, she declared that the two persons whom she would always remember with the warmest gratitude and the most pleasant associations were Mme. Pontalba and Boudro, the cook.

After arranging her affairs in this city, and when the accession of Louis Napoleou had given an aspect of permanent order and peace to France, Madame Pontalba returned to Paris, and resided at her splendid hotel in that city, surrounded by a large family of children and grandchildren. Her hospitality and beneficence were on a scale of great liberality and magnificence, worthy of the heir of the venerable Don Andres Almonaster. Like her father, too, she was a most vigilant and successful administrator of her large estate. Her investments in Paris proved

very profitable, and her property in that city exceeded in value that which she held in New Orleans, where she had been for many years regarded as the proprietor of the largest area of ground in the city.


John McDonogh was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in the year 1778, of highly respectable parents of Scotch descent. He received a good education, was quick and apt at acquiring knowledge, and possessed an extraordinarily retentive memory, whieh seldom or never failed him. Exhibiting a turn for commercial pursuits, he was placed at an early age in a mercantile house in Baltimore, doing an extensive business both in this country and Europe. He was affable and pleasing in his manners; strictly correct in all transactions. He gained the unlimited confidence of his employers, who, in 1800, sent him as supercargo in one of their ships to Liverpool, with instructions to load her with merchandise suitable for the Louisiana market, and to proceed without delay to New Orleans. He obeyed his instructions, sailed from Liverpool, arriving at the Balize in the latter part of September, 1800. His ship sailed up the river as fast as winds would permit, and when about twenty miles below the city he came ashore, hired a horse, and entered the city on the evening of the third of October, 1800. The next day presenting himself to his consignees, ere the ship reached port he had disposed of the largest portion of the cargo. Renting a store, he stored the balance of the cargo, which w r as also disposed of in a very short time. He loaded the vessel for Baltimore and sailed, and on his arrival was complimented by his employers for the success attendant upon this venture.

Shortly after, in 1804, another venture was made, giving McDonogh an interest therein, and he met with far better success. He determined upon making New Orleans his future home. He soon became intimately acquainted with all the city and government officers, merchants and citizens generally, entering into contracts with the Spanish officials to furnish goods for all that part of the country east of the Mississippi and the Floridas, and giving general satisfaction to all.

After the treaty of cession, a fellow clerk and intimate friend, Shepherd Brown, arrived from Baltimore. Aided by their former employers, they formed a co-partnership, and did an extensive business as John McDonogh, Jr., & Co. After the battle of New Orleans Brown died ; McDonogh attended to the settlement of the affairs of the firm, and carried on the business in his own name.

McDonogh being fond of gaiety and parties and of ladies' society, in 1809 opened a large house, at the northwest corner of Chartres and Toulouse streets, furnished it magnificently; had his coaches and horses ; gave balls, parties and dinner parties, which were attended by the notabilities of the city. Micaela Leonarda, daughter of Don Almcnaster, and afterwards Madame Pontalba, was the belle, her handsome face and money attracting many suitors, amongst others John McDonogh, who in 1810 demanded her in marriage. Her friends, however, declined the honor unless McDonogh would become a Roman Catholic. McDonogh of course retired, and did not renew the demand.

The Baron de Pontalba sought Micasla and in 1811 was accepted. The marriage contract was drawn by Philippe Pedesclaux, in July, 1811, with the strictest clauses inserted therein. The contract was signed, the marriage consummated and the Baron and Baroness left for Paris, to participate in the festivities and splendor of the nobility. The marriage proved unhappy ; the causes need not be repeated here, but Mica?la was divorced by a decree of "La Cour de Cassation," and she was once more free. She visited New Orleans in 1846 in relation to the projected buildings on St. Peter and St. Ann streets. The Council of the First Municipality refused to donate to her the banquette in front of her property, and her plan would fail could she not obtain the number of feet needed from the property in the rear. McDonogh owned the largest portion on Chai-tres and on Jefferson streets. She at once thought of McDonogh, and meeting him as if by chance in the Louisiana State Bank, approached him ; "How are you, McDonogh:

Have you forgotten me ? I am Micsela." McDonogh professed to remember her, and a conversation followed, during which she made advances to him, seeming to indicate that a proposal of marriage from him would not be unacceptable. McDonogh manifested a willingness on his part, but they separated, and McDonogh saw her no more. Believing that she had by this manoeuvre secured McDonogh's good favor, she ordered her builder, Samuel Stewart, to take possession and tear down some 15 or 16 feet of the property of McDonogh. She had caused an act t.o be drawn up, which she believed McDonogh would sign, by which he abandoned to her this amount of property. McDonogh, hearing of the projected tearing down of his property, at once applied to the Fifth District Court of New Orleans, Judge A. M. Buchanan presiding, and obtained an injunction, which resulted in Mme. de Pontalba having to pay damages and costs, besides repairing the walls which she had already pulled down. Thus ended his love, if it can be so called, for Mme. de Pontalba.

In 1814, there resided in New Orleans a Mr. Johnson and family, from Maryland. His daughter was then just entering into womanhood, beautiful, intellectual and witty, far surpassing Micsela Almonaster in everything but money. McDonogh paid his address to this young lady, and was accepted by her, but the father's consent was to be had. McDonogh made the "demande en mariage" in due form and according to etiquette. The Johnson family were strict E^man Catholics, and McDonogh a Protestant. Miss Johnson made no objection to McDonogh on the score of religion. Not so the father, who acknowledging the honor done to his daughter by McDonogh, of which he was proud, refused consent, unless McDonogh would join the Catholic church. McDonogh declined doing this, stated that no objection was made by the daughter, and he would wait some time when, perhaps, Mr. Johnson might change his views. Miss Johnson was satisfied with this, hoping, also, that her father would relent.

New Orleans was invaded. McDonogh joined Captain Beale's company of rifles, and was at the battle of the 8th of January, 1815. After proclamation of peace McDonogh again renewed Ids application to the father, with the same result. Miss Johnson then announced that if she were not McDonogh's wife, she would become a nun, and some time after she took the veil, in the Ursuline Church, on Ursuline street.

Nearly thirty-five years after. Miss Johnson became the head of one of the religious institutions she had joined. McDonogh, hearing of this, and being made aware that her then position permitted her to receive visitors, respectfully requested permission to pay his respects to her, simply as an old friend. She assented, and McDonogh paid the visit, which was most interesting to both, although no allusion was made to the love of former days. And annually, up to the time of his death in 1850, McDonogh, between the 1st and 6th of January, would make his " visite dc bonne annee," the New Year's call. McDonogh died in 1850, and in his armoir, carefully preserved, was found a memento of Miss Johnson, in the shape of a pair of beautiful gold embroidered slippers.

From 1819 to 1850 McDonogh never was idle ; early and late he was at work. His business called him daily to the city. He had his rents to collect, his notes to pay. He att nded the , auction sales, and bought real estate, and to attend to this business he would cross the Mississippi in a skiff manned by one of his slaves. Prior to 1835 there were no steam ferries plying between New Orleans and the opposite side. The planters and the largest portion of the inhabitants had their own skiffs, and even after the establishment of steam ferries none landed within a half-mile of his residence. No weather, however threatening or tempestuous, would prevent him from crossing in this skiff, to fulfill any engagement which he had made. He was always punctual to the hour and minute. After completing his business in the city he would recross, and he was never known after his removal across the river to have passed a night in the city.

McDonogh corresponded with many of the eminent men of the day, such as Henry Clay, Paniel Webster. John M. Clayton, Wm M, Meredith, Judges Story and McLean, and many

others, besides corresponding with the various departments, both of the United States and of the State, in regard to land and other claims in which he was interested. He frequently wrote articles upon the important questions of the day, which were published in the newspapers here, and republished in the leading papers throughout the country.

John McDonogh was no miser. His whole career, his will, refute the idea that he was a miser. He declined giving money for frivolous purposes. He refused to have his biography written, as it was money the writer wanted. He declined being interviewed, as it is now called, for money was at the bottom of it. Hence he was called a miser. Whatever may have been his views in regard to the disposition of his property, and the apparently ridiculous mode he prescribed for tarrying them out, it was his hobby ; he was entitled to it. He was no " miser." He hoarded no moneys. At the time of his death he owed $160,000, payable in January and February, 1851,' ilOO,0J0 of which was due the Citizens' .Bank of Louisiana, the balance, $60,000, for several properties which he had purchased from Destrehan's estate and other parties.

He had but $10,500 cash in bank to meet this amount due. His property he left to the cities of Baltimore and New Orleans. Baltimore has profited by this legacy and reveres his name. New Orleans received a similar legacy.

McDonogh died at his home on the evening of the 25th of October, 1850 (Saturday), and was buried on Sunday evening, the 26th of October, 1850, in the burial ground which he had projected.

His will was opened and probated in the Fifth District Court of New Orleans, Judge A. M. Buchanan presiding. The contest by the heirs in the Federal courts lasted up to 1855, when the cities took possession. Some time after this a codicil, in the shape of a note for $100,000, in favor of Francis Pena, payable four years after his death, was presented. This was a surprise. On examination it was found to be wholly written, signed, and dated by McDonoerh. It was not creasy nor unintelligible; it was in his bold handwriting. It had been in the possession, for years prior, of that highly respected fellow-citizen, R^zin D. Shepherd, who held it for safe keeping, to be handed Pena at the proper time.

The large amount of money that McDonogh left to the city of New Orleans for educational purposes was quarreled over for many years, and badly managed. Of late, however, it has been paying the city a handsome income, and no less than nineteen magnificent school-houses costing from $20,000 to $60,000 each, have been erected out of the interest produced by it.



Touro started out in the world with a broken heart, having been rejected by the family of the lady to whom he had been promised. He went from his home as supercargo to the Mediterranean seas. He did but little there, and returned to Boston. He next went to Havana, having a capital of only $100 in his pocket, which was stolen from him, leaving him penniless. He managed to make enough to secure passage to New Orleans. Here he started in general business—Yankee notions—and as a commission merchant took consignments from Boston About the time of the breaking out of the British war he had amassed an independent fortune. He lay eighteen months in bed on account of the wound he received at the battle of New Orleans, and from 1815 to 1844 he never went out on the streets except to and from his office.

At the time he reached New Orleans, in 1801, he was considered a beau among the ladies, but he was very bashful. He once said that he would have given one-half of what he possessed if, at a ball, a lady sitting right in front of him would have got up, so that he could have moved from where he was sitting. He desired to leave the place, and he was too modest to ask her to move. During the time that he himself was confined to his office or house, from 1815 to 1844, he knew of everything that was going on in society and business circles. He had about a dozen friends to call on him daily, who would make reports of everything going on.

In 1832 Mr. Touro had a store on Chartres street, near where the St. Louis Hotel now

stands ; at that period the hotei was not in existence. He afterwards removed to the cornel* of Canal and Royal, He finally moved his business next to Christ Church which was then on. the corner of Bourbon and Canal. He bought the church, tore it down and erected a synagogue, "the Dispersed of Judah,"now generally known as the Touro Synagogue, and which was afterwards removed to its present site on Carondelet street, near Julia.

Touro gave away over $400,000 in charity. He gave $20,000 to the Bunker Hill Monument; $40,00C to put the Jewish Cemetery at Newport, R. I., in good condition, and various other sums to other charities.

At a great expense he purchased the burial-ground on Canal street for the Congregation Dispersed of Judah and had it put in order ; also, the Touro Infirmary, which alone cost hirn £40,000. The church on Bourbon and Canal streets, which was built for the Congregation Dispersed of Judah he had built himself, and the ground alone cost him between $60,000 and $70,000.

He was very close in so far as his personal wants were concerned. His clerk once bought him a frock coat, and on the same day his friend Nathan bought one $2 cheaper. He made the clerk return the coat, but on the same day gave $5,000 to the sufferers of the Mobile fire, Without any demand or call upon him.

A notable event in the life of Mr. Touro occurred just two weeks before his death. One of the newspapers printed a lengthy editorial which went on to say that Mr. R. D. Shepherd bad saved the life of Mr. Judah Touro The consequence of this was that a contemplated Will which had been made, but not signed, was altered, and his entire property amounting to considerably over a million was bequeathed to Shepherd,

Judah Touro was a temperate man and never drank anything but water. He never drank wines, although he frequently tasted them, and was an excellent connoisseur. He would smell and taste them and give his opinion, but never driuk them.


Samuel J. Peters was one of the most remarkable men who ever engaged in public and commercial affairs in this city, or indeed in this nation. He was a native of Canada, born of a distinguished Puritan lineage. His family had removed from Connecticut during the Revolutionary War. The blood of Hugh Peters and of Cromwell's famous butcher, General Harrison, mingled in his veins, and the energetic, self-reliant, bold, defiant and somewhat domineering spirit of his regicidal ancestors had been transmitted to their remote descendant, who emigrated to this city about fifty years ago, and engaged as a clerk in a store. The great talents and strong will of Peters secured him rapid advancement in mercantile life. He became a prosperous merchant, and the head of the largest wholesale grocery in the South. But his ambition and intellectual activity could not be limited to even the large scope of a great commercial establishment. He engaged in public affairs, became a member of the City Council, and afterwards of the Council of the Second Municipality, where he quickly took the lead in every important measure, and by his admirable organizing and administrative powers, infused great vigor and system into every department of the municipal government.

Finally, he became practically the autocrat of the wealthiest and most prosperous of the three municipalities, and for years swayed its destinies and controlled its whole organization with absolute power.and extraordinary ability. He communicated his spirit and energy to the whole population ; introduced every new improvement which had proved successful in other cities ; organized the police on a new plan, and a fire department; introduced a system of public schools equal to the best in New England ; established a large library, built the present City Hall, raised the credit of the municipality to par, and accomplished innumerable other public measures and improvements, which contributed to render the Second Municipality as

complete and thoroughly organized a city within itself as there existed in the Union. And during the whole period of nis long service in the city government, for which he received not a dollar of remuneration, he was president of a large and nourishing hank, was a director in many other corporations, and for a short time filled the office of Collector of Customs under the Federal Government. Few men in any community ever crowded so much of public service into the same period as Mr. Peters. And yet, during all that time, he continued his connection with the house which he had founded. Finally, borne down by his great labors and cares, his physical powers yielded, and a paralytic attack brought his career to a close before he had reached old age. And now was realized the heavy penalty which is paid in New Orleans by all who engage in public life and enterprises.

Though abstaining from all speculation and enjoying a large income from his prosperous and extensive commercial business, he left barely enough to give his children a good education, whilst his partner, who died a few years after, and who had never been known outside of his store, had never performed any public labor in any public sense, or promoted any public enterprise, left a princely estate.

The differences between the two estates represented the sacrifice which Mr. Peters had made by his devotion to the interests and advancement of the community, and the consequent neglect of his own personal'affairs.


afforded the next striking example of the risk and loss of engaging in enterprises and public works in this city. Mr. Caldwell, more than even Mr. Peters, embarked his whole fortune and energies in such enterprises. He was indeed the architect of the fortunes of the Second Municipality. There was no undertaking that could be proposed—and he was the author of most of those—in which he did not co-operate and lead, The Nashville Railroad, which anticipated the present Great Northern & Jackson by more than twenty years, was conceived, organized and prosecuted by him. But for the great financial crash of 1836-37, it would have been a brilliant success. The New Canal, the Waterworks, the St. Charles and the Veranda Hotels, were all worked out on his plans, and chiefly through his energy. The splendid and capacious old St. Charles Theatre was designed and constructed entirely with his own means at a cost of $350,000. He had previously built the Camp Street Theatre. He first introduced gas into the city, and founded the present wealthy corporation which furnishes that great comfort of urban life. He was the author of the plan of square-stone pavements, and imported the blocks from abroad, and laid down the pavement at his own expense to demonstrate its superiority.

It would require pages to detail all the exploits of the wonderful enterprise and public spirit of this most useful citizen. Suffice it to say that, although all these enterprises proved eminently practical and successful, and contributed vastly to the growth of the municipality, they involved Mr. Caldwell in such pecuniary losses that he was driven back to the stage to resume his old pursuit as an actor and manager, and was for some years a virtual bankrupt. The indulgence of his creditors and his own energies, and a fortunate investment in gas property in other cities, finally rescued him from complete insolvency. But he had lost all his large investments in the gas works which he established in New Orleans. That property passed into other hands, and enriched all who acquired any portion of it. Its founder was impoverished by the very success of his enterprise.


Adah Isaacs Menken was not a Jewess by birth. She was born at Milneburg, on Lake Pont-chartrain, and a part of New Orleans, June 15, 1835, and christened Adelaide McCord. In 1859

she married Alexander Isaacs Menken, and out of las name she formed the cognomen hy which she became celebrated. She had a sister, Josephine, and a brother, who was a compositor at Cincinnati. Her father died when she was only seven years old, and her mother married Dr. J. C. Campbell, an army surgeon. Then this stepfather also died, and Adelaide and Josephine went upon the stage as dancers, at the French Opera House, New Orleans. But Adelaide was ambitious, studied tragedy in her leisure hours, and in 1858 made her debut at the Varieties Theatre, New Orleans, as Bianca, in " Fazio.'* Then she became a leading lady at the Memphis and Nashville theatres. A divorce quickly followed her marriage to Menken.