durable protection from the floods of the river.
It commences at Fort Plaquemines, and extends to Baton Rouge, the
distance of one hundred and sixty-three miles, on the east side of
the river; on the west side it extends as high up as Arkansas. It will
average four feet high and fifteen feet wide, and follows the river in
its winding course. A visitor, seeing no ditch from which the earth
is taken to erect this artificial dyke, is at first at a loss to
know where soil was obtained to make it. On the margin of the river a
continual deposit is forming called "batture;" this is drawn back from
the river and makes the levee. It soon becomes soil, and has given
rise to much litigation, for ownership is exercised over it when
formed. The levee has not given way in a long time, to do any
extensive damage. Near this place, in 1816, the river rising to an
unprecedented height, broke through and inundated much of Orleans; but
governor Claiborne had a vessel sunk in the crevasse, which stopped
it.

CHAPTER IX.

ORLEANS AT NIGHT.--THE COMMERCE OF THE PLACE.--THE TWENTY-SECOND OF
FEBRUARY.

When the sun sheds his last rays behind the hills of peaceful Alabama,
then it is that the farmer whistles a note over his last furrow, and
thanks himself that the toils of day are nearly over; then the hunter
checks his horse, blows his last horn and turns for home; then the
lazy angler rises from the green bank, strings his silvery fish, winds
up his lines and quits the quiet stream; then the children cease
to "gambol o'er the plain," and night soon shrouds all objects in
darkness and repose.

Not so with Orleans. Over her massive buildings and pretty streets,
the veil of night is cast in vain! Anon a soft and yellow light issues
from a thousand lamps, and tells that untiring man is still abroad.
Has the merchant pored over his books the whole day, he at this happy
hour sups his tea, and thinks in anticipation of Monsieur Malet's
delightful party. Has the lawyer attended upon the courts and given
audience to clients, he now forms plans for this night's amusement.
Has the laborious editor written "copy" by the long hour until
exhausted and fatigued, he now kicks the exchange papers under the
table, throws aside his pen, and recals with delight the Orleans
Theatre and the sweet music of Norma. Has the gay matron visited and
shopped, and shopped and visited for the last eight hours, she now
once more attires herself for the splendid