University of Virginia Library

16. XVI.

In a preceding letter, I have alluded to an intended
visit to the rail-way; near which, on my way
thither, my last letter left me, in company with B.,
after having paid a visit to the Ursuline convent.
On leaving Ursuline-street, which terminates at the
river, we proceeded a short distance to the rail-road,
along the Levée, which was lined with ships, bearing
the flags of nearly all the nations of the earth.
The length of this rail-way is about five miles, terminating
at Lake Pontchartrain. Its advantages to
New-Orleans are incalculable. It has been to the
city literally “an avenue of wealth” already. The
trade carried on through this medium, bears no mean
proportion to the river commerce. Ports, heretofore
unknown to Orleans, as associated with traffic,
carry on, now, a regular and important branch of
trade with her. By it, a great trade is carried on
with Mobile and other places along the Florida
coast, and by the same means, the mails are transported
with safety and rapidity. The country between
New-Orleans and the nearest shore of the
lake, is low, flat, marshy, and covered with a half-drowned

and stunted forest. The lake, though near
the city, formerly was inaccessible. Vessels laden
with their valuable cargoes might arrive at the termination
of the lake within sight of the city, but
the broad marsh extending between them and the
far-off towers of the wished-for mart, might as well
have been the cloud-capped Jura, for any means of
communication it could afford. But the rail-way
has overcome this obstacle: coasting vessels, which
traverse the lake in great numbers, can now receive
and discharge their cargoes at the foot of the
rail-way, upon a long pier extending far out into the
lake. The discharged cargoes are piled upon the
cars and in twenty minutes are added to the thousand
shiploads, heaped upon the Levée; or, placed
upon drays, are trundling to every part of the city.

When we arrived at the rail-way, the cars for
passengers, eight or ten in number, were standing
in a line under a long roof, which covers the end
of the rail-way. A long train of baggage or cargo-cars
were in the rear of these, all heavily laden.
The steam-car, puffing and blowing like a bustling
little man in a crowd, seemed impatient to dart forward
upon the track. We perceived that all was
ready for a start; and barely had time to hasten to
the ticket-office, throw down our six “bits” for two
tickets, and spring into the only vacant seats in one
of the cars, before the first bell rang out the signal
for starting.

All the cars were full; including two or three
behind, appropriated to coloured gentlemen and ladies.
Again the bell gave the final signal; and

obedient thereto, our fiery leader moved forward,
smoking like a race-horse, slowly and steadily at
first—then, faster and faster, till we flew along the
track with breathless rapidity. The rail-road, commencing
at the Levée, runs for the first half mile
through the centre of a broad street, with low detached
houses on either side. A mile from the Levée
we had left the city and all dwellings behind us,
and were flying through the fenceless, uninhabited
marshes, where nothing meets the eye but dwarf
trees, rank, luxuriant undergrowth, tall, coarse grass,
and vines, twisting and winding their long, serpentine
folds around the trunks of the trees like huge,
loathsome water-snakes. By the watch, we passed
a mile-stone every three minutes and a half; and
in less than nineteen minutes, arrived at the lake.
Here, quite a village of handsome, white-painted
hotels, cafés, dwellings, store-houses, and bathing
rooms, burst at once upon our view; running past
them, we gradually lessened our speed, and finally
came to a full stop on the pier, where the rail-road
terminates. Here we left the cars, which came
thumping against each other successively, as they
stopped; but the points of contact being padded,
prevented any very violent shock to the occupants.
The pier, constructed of piles and firmly planked
over, was lined with sloops and schooners, which
were taking in and discharging cargo, giving quite
a bustling, business-like air to this infant port.
Boys, ragged negroes, and gentlemen amateurs,
were fishing in great numbers farther out in the
lake; others were engaged in the delicate amusement
of cray-fishing, while on the right the water
was alive with bathers, who, disdaining the confined
limits enclosed by the long white bathing-houses,
which stretched along the south side of the pier,
and yielding to the promptings of a watery ambition,
were boldly striking out into the sluggish depths.
To the east, the waters of the lake and sky met,
presenting an ocean horizon to the untravelled citizens,
who can have no other conception of the reality
without taking a trip to the Balize. Light
craft were skimming its waveless surface, under the
influence of a gentle breeze, in all directions. A
steamer, bearing the United States mail from Mobile,
was seen in the distance, rolling out clouds
of black smoke, and ploughing and dashing on her
rapid way to the pier.

Retracing our steps to the head of the pier, we
entered a very handsome café, or hotel, crowded
with men. The eternal dominos were rattling on
every table, glasses were ringing against glasses,
and voices were heard, in high-toned conversation,
in all languages, with mingled oaths and laughter;
the noise and confusion were sufficient, without a
miracle, to make a deaf man hear. All these persons,
probably, were from the city, and had come
down to the lake to amuse themselves, or kill an
hour. The opposite café was equally crowded;
while the billiard-rooms adjoining were filled with
spectators and players. Clouds of tobacco-smoke
enveloped the multitude, and the rooms rung with
“Sacre bleu!” “Mon Dieu!” “Diable!” and blunt
English oaths of equal force and import.

The first bell for the return had rung, and the passengers
rushed to the cars, which were soon filled; the
signal for starting was given, and the locomotive
again led the van, with as much apparent importance
as that with which the redoubtable and twice immortal
Major Downing might be supposed to precede his
gallant “rigiment of down easters.” We had passed
two-thirds of the distance when we were alarmed by
a sudden and tremendous shouting from the forward
car. The cry was echoed involuntarily along the
whole train, and every head was instantly darted
from the windows. The cause of the alarm was
instantly perceptible. Less than a quarter of a
mile ahead, a cow was lying very quietly and composedly,
directly in the track of the flying cars. The
shouts of the frightened passengers on discovering
her, either petrified her with utter fear—for such
yellings and whoopings were never heard before on
this side Hades—or did not reach her, for she kept
her position with the most complacent nonchalance.
The engineer instantly stopped the locomotive, but
though our momentum was diminished, it was too
late to effect his object; in thirty seconds from the
first discovery of the cow, the engine passed over
the now terrified animal, with a jump—jump—and
a grinding crash, and with so violent a shock as
nearly to throw the car from the track; the next,
and the next car followed—and the poor animal, the
next instant, was left far behind, so completely severed,
that the rear cars passed over her without
any perceptible shock.

In a few minutes afterward, we arrived at the city,

having been one minute longer in returning than in
going to the lake. The rail-way has become, if not
a very fashionable, at least a very general resort, for
a great portion of the inhabitants of New-Orleans,
particularly on Sabbaths and holydays. Lake Pontchartrain,
the destination of all who visit the rail
road for an excursion of pleasure, is, to New-Orleans,
what Gray's Ferry was in the olden time to
the good citizens of Philadelphia; or Jamaica pond
is, at present, to the most worthy citizens of the
emporium of notions; or what “Broad's” is to the
gay citizens of Portland.[6] When we alighted from
the car, the omnibus was at its stand at the head of
the rail-way; so, jumping into it, with twenty others,
the horn was blown with an emphasis, the whip was
cracked with a series of inimitable flourishes, and
in fifteen minutes after leaving the car, we were
safely deposited near our hotel. If our jolting ride
home, through the rough, deep-guttered streets, did
not increase our appetite for the good things awaiting
us at the table d'hote, it at least demonstrated to
us the superiority of rail-ways over unpaved streets,
which every now and then are intersected, for the sake
of variety, with a gutter of no particular width, and
a foot and a half deep, more or less, by the “lead.”