an be starved by drainage, and
atmospheric disturbances of storm and tornado, no doubt, do more good
than harm in the long run.

It was well on in the night when we got into New Orleans, but we
enjoyed the quiet of the Sunday, even on our speeding train. We felt
the beauty of the great level stretches of flat land, mingled
constantly with the gleaming waters of lake and bayou and morass, all
looking more and more mysterious as the light faded away into the
night.

IV

New Orleans.--Surviving Traces of Spanish and French Occupation.--
Jackson Square.--Cathedral of St. Louis.--The Cemeteries.--
Melancholy Perspectives.--Audubon Park.--Graves for Sale.--The
French Market.-- Mobile and New Orleans as Seen Nearly Thirty
Years Ago.--St. Charles Hotel.--A Dinner at Dr. Mercer's.

The train moved along leisurely over bridges and trestle work, and
through flowery forests, until, we scarcely knew how, we found
ourselves at our temporary destination.

One could see very little of New Orleans in the short space of our
stay, but we made the most of it. The city itself, in its historic and
social aspects, is one of the most interesting in America and the least
American. It has on it yet the traces of former Spanish and French
ownership and occupation, but the equestrian statue of Old Hickory in
Jackson Square, still known by its ancient name, the Place d'Armes,
crowns all the past with the American idea. The monument of General
Jackson is directly in front of the Cathedral of St. Louis of France.
We entered this edifice and noted the reredos back of the high altar,
emblazoned with the arms of St. Louis and the record of his virtues.

While we were there, a large class of boys were being catechized, in
the French tongue; again and again the answers would come in loud
monotone. We noted, also, with interest, the unmistakable Gallic type,
in head and eyes and hair, of the restless young scholars upon the
benches.

Some of our party took carriage drives, and some preferred the
ubiquitous street cars. In various ways we each sought our pleasure. We
went to the cemeteries, with their overground, oven-like tombs,
necessitated by the water-soaked condition of the soil. The French
burial places had that sombre effect which straight lines and extended
alleys ever produce. Why this disposition of line should so impress the
mind is very curious, but I have always found it so. One feels it at
Versailles, as well as in the most u