trouble, does not find relief in disclosing those troubles
to an old confidential person in whom he can confide, and who gives
him good advice? Are not the cases somewhat similar?

I watched and listened attentively to see or hear the settlement
between the father and sinner, but I made no discoveries and heard no
money jingle. All classes unite here in the services, and as you cast
your eye over this devout assembly, the elegant young lady may be seen
kneeling on the hard stone floor, beside the negro or mulatto. And
still further on, the well-attired gentleman prostrates himself with
the ragged beggar in worshipping the same common and universal God!
All appear to be deeply engaged, and in no church can there be found
so much profound silence, awe and veneration. The three altars are so
far distant that the fathers are seldom heard, and the worshippers are
governed in their devotions by the ringing of bells. There is nothing
very imposing in the interior, some very fine paintings representing
incidents in the Bible, hang around the walls.

In regard to the public buildings, "there is probably no city in the
United States that has so many benevolent institutions as New Orleans,
in proportion to its population. Certainly it has not an equal in
those voluntary contributions which are sometimes required to answer
the immediate calls of distress. Here assembled a mixed multitude,
composed of almost every nation and tongue, from the frozen to the
torrid zone, and whether it be the sympathy of strangers, or the
influence of the "sunny south," their purses open and their hearts
respond like those of brothers, to the demands of charity."[A]

[Footnote A: "Norman's New Orleans and Environs."]

The Female Orphan Asylum is a fine building on the corner of Camp and
Prytania streets, and the visitor who has never seen any thing of the
kind will be well repaid by an examination. He will be met at the door
by one of the Sisters of Charity, (known as Nuns,) a lady about forty
years old, rather stooping, but mild and holy, dressed in black, with
a hood of the same, partly covering her head. Her dress is gathered
around her waist by a black belt made of bombazine, to which is
attached some keys and Catholic relics. She beckons you in the house,
and proceeds on before you with a gait as noiseless and nimble as a
cat. The first room you enter is the school for small girls, numbering
about fifty, who all rise simultaneously on your ent