LETTER XLI.
New Orleans, La.
My Dear Mr. —:
The impressions which are made upon one's mind
and memory on first going into a large city, are indellible.
I shall never forget mine on approaching the city
in our carriage, about three hours after leaving Chateau
de Clery.
New Orleans is wholly unlike any other American
metropolis. Its aspect is foreign, and French decidedly.
When within six miles, we entered the pretty suburbs of
Carrolton, where the road is a continuous street until
lost in the labyrinth of the city avenues.
Instead of continuing along this road we alighted at
the railway depot, leaving our carriages to return home
with the coachmen, our intention being to go back by
the river. The cars run to the city every half hour, and
our party had no sooner got seated than we were off like
an eagle shrieking as he flies. Oh, what dreadful noises
those horrid steam whistles make! So shrill and loud
and terrific, that I did not wonder to see cows, horses,
mules, dogs, ducks, geese, and chickens turn, scamper,
fly, trot, gallop, and scatter to the right and left in consternation.
There were three Indians in the next car, one of
whom, in an old scarlet frock coat, fancifully fringed,
placed his hands to his mouth in rapid succession, and
echoed the cry of the engine whistle almost as shrilly.
We all looked into the car to see what it was. He stood
up and repeated the cry, saying with an air of tipsy
satisfaction—
“War-whoop! Me war-whoop—he war-whoop.”
What more he might have said was abruptly cut off
by the conductor pushing him by the shoulder, and
thrusting him with a huge oath roughly into a car still
farther forward; and driving two patient-looking Indian
women laden with baskets after him. Ah, for the poor
Indian!
* * * “Where once he trod,
Lord of the earth and free as air,
He now creeps cowering like a cur,
Cursed of the white man, and not where
To lay his head where once he reigned a king.”
The Indian is every where the same from Maine to
Louisiana. They look alike, their pursuits are alike,
their degradation equal. These were wandering remnants
of the Choctaw tribe; for many linger about the
scenes of their father's deeds and resting places of their
bones, and support their precarious existence by fishing
and basket-making. I have seen many of them in the
city since, going about selling little bundles of sassafras
root or herbs gathered in the woods. The women never
smile, look sickly and suffering; while the men are gaily
dressed and keep in a state of lordly drunkenness, the
only affinity to “nobility” left to these poor lords of the
forest.
I fear America has much sin lying at her door for her
neglect of her Indian children.
Our car contained a strange medley. Directly in front
of me sat a handsome yellow “lady,” her head surmounted
by an orange and scarlet plaid handkerchief,
bound about it Turkish-turban fashion; a style that prevails
here among the Creole servants. She had in her
ears a pair of gold ear-rings, as large as a half-dollar,
plain and massive; she wore a necklace of gold beads,
hanging from which was a cornelian cross, the most
beautiful thing I ever saw; upon her neck was a richly-worked
black lace scarf; her dress was plain colored
silk, made in the costliest manner. Her olive hands,
which had very tapering fingers and remarkably oval
nails, were covered with rings, chiefly plain gold ones.
In one hand she held a handsome parasol, and the other
fondled a snow-white French poodle upon her lap, said
poodle having the tips of its ears tied with knots of pink
ribbon, and a collar of pink silk quilled, and made like
a ruff, while the end of its tail was adorned with a bow
of blue ribbon, in the tastiest style; and, as if his poodleship
were not sufficiently decorated to be taken to the
city to visit its town cousins, it had a nice bow of red
satin ribbon tied about each of its four ancles. This
luxurious little fellow took it quite in high dudgeon
that I should scan him so closely, and putting his little
pink feet upon her shoulder, he shot fire out of his deepset
black eyes, and began to yelp at me most outrageously.
“A bas, Fidele, fi done!” exclaimed his mistress, in
certainly one of the most musical voices in the world; and
gently patting the ferocious little aristocrat on the
shoulder, she tried to quell its expressions of hostility
towards me. Finding that it would not be pacified, she,
turning round, and fixing upon me a pair of magnificent
eyes, and a face of surprising and unlooked-for beauty
—a strange and indescribable sort of beauty—she said:
“Pardon, Ma'mselle! La béte s'est mal comporté
envers vous. Tranquilliez vous, Fidele! Ne vous inquietez
pas!”
Here she kissed her spiteful little favorite, and gradually
soothed its irascibility; but it would occasionally,
nevertheless, glance at me suspiciously, and utter a petite
growl in its little white fleecy throat. The seat on my left
contained a French gentleman, aged and thin, with a
huge gray moustache overshadowing his large mouth.
He wore a long nankin blouse (a sort of loose frock-coat)
and a yellow vest with bright buttons, gray trowsers and
drab gaiters—altogether a peculiar costume, especially
with his hat, which had a brim so narrow that two flies
could not walk arm-in-arm around it, while the gray,
weather-worn crown rose upward into the air above him
like a rusty stove-pipe. The intense gravity of his countenance
attracted my attention. He was as grave and
dignified as a whole bench of supreme judges; yet he
carried in a little paste-board box, with slits cut at intervals
therein, a little, half-fledged mocking-bird; carried
it as tenderly as a little child would have done;
watched and guarded it against the jolts of the cars, the
sunshine in the window, and the draught of air when the
door was left open by the conductor. His whole heart
seemed to be wrapped up in that miserable little bird,
which sat trembling in the cage so pitifully, that I felt
like asking him to let me take it out and nestle it between
the palms of my hands. But hear him talk to it!
“Pauvre petite! Ah, bonne, bonnette! Vous avez
bon voyage. Voyez vous les arbres? Voyez vous les
jolis champs? Voyez vous les jolis oiseaux?”
He would then hold the little wretch up at the window
and point out the trees, and fields, and flying birds to it,
exactly as if it could understand every word he said, and
vastly enjoyed the “bon voyage” and the sight from the
window.
The cage had evidently been made by him, impromptu,
with his penknife, and was a very ingenious affair; and
in the top of it was stuck a small rose-bud and sprig of
thistle. The little bird was evidently his pride and joy.
He had perhaps caught it in the fields, and was taking it
home to his grand-children, or had purchased it for some
favorite.
It was an interesting sight to see a tall, warlike, mustachioed
man thus giving his whole mind to such a little
thing as the poor, chirping, crying young one in the cage;
but it was beautiful to contemplate the scene. It showed
a good heart and kind; that he was affectionate and domestic,
and must love children and all others of God's
creatures that are helpless. I regarded him with respect.
Finding the little bird did not seem to enjoy the
scenery, he took a piece of cake from his pocket and
began to tempt it to eat a crumb from the end of his
finger, which he thrust into the cage. “Mangez, petite!
Mangez le bon gateau!”
In a few minutes the cars stopped at his place, and he
arose, and covering the cage carefully with his handkerchief,
left the cars with it; and, as we started on, I saw
him approach the gate of a pretty Creole cottage, half
hidden in grape vines. Several children and their youthful
mother came to meet him. “Voyez, voyez!” he cried,
with great glee, holding up the cage. “Voila l'oiseau,
mes enfants. Nous chantons comme les anges!” and,
opening the little cage, he was showing them his prize,
when the prisoner made a spring from between his thumb
and finger, and fluttering its little winglets, went sailing
through the air four feet from the ground, and threatening
to knock itself against it every minute.
One general outcry escaped the confounded group,
one double deep base mingled with altissimos; and as
the cars were whirling us beyond view, I saw the whole
party, headed by the tall, gray-headed French grandpa,
start in full cry after the hopping and flying truant.
But I reserve the rest of the ride into the city for my
next. Till then, faithfully
